Book Shame Novels & Stories

"That bitch! How dare she humiliate you like that!" I opened my phone and went to our pack's internal social media platform. Pinned to the top of the feed was a photo of me, wearing the humiliating brand. The photo was crystal clear, capturing my shame from every angle. The caption was even more vicious: "Look at our 'noble princess'! Turns out pure-blood Alphas aren't so special after all. Can't even take a little joke. What a delicate little doll. But what can you expect from a pretty face with no sense of humor?"

I went to the second floor and made a stop in my bedroom to change the shoes, then went to his office. I gently knocked on the door, but there was silence on the other side of the door. I opened the door slowly, thinking that there was no one inside but there he was. His gaze was focused on the glass of whiskey that was on the table. His index finger was circling the edge of the glass. I closed the door behind me, but his gaze didn’t shift. The white shirt that he was wearing was halfway buttoned up, revealing his perfect chest. I cleared my throat to get his attention, but it didn’t work.

He was the worst— out of them. ~•~•~•~•~ Saumya Tripathi | Different shades of him. Copyrights © 2024 by Saumya Tripathi. All rights reserved. The author neither promotes nor supports the actions mentioned in this story. It is purely fictional and should be taken as such. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without my prior written permission. Note that this is an ongoing story, and therefore subject to change. All copies published are the party of Saumya Tripathi.

Friendly overtures, attempts to prove she was not a crazy sex fiend. She had nothing to be ashamed of, she told herself. Just because her relationship did not look like most everyone else’s did not make it bad. Compared to some so-called normal relationships, hers was far healthier for everyone involved. But stuck in her head was the image from a movie she had once seen where a crowd of scandalized people had hissed and pointed at the heroine: Shame! Shame on you! Shame! “Why are we stopping?” Alexei was immediately alert, sliding along the seats to the driver’s window and pulling it open. “What is up?”

Her face flushes red as she quickly closes the book and clumsily tries to fit it back on the shelf. “No, no,” she says in a flustered manner. “I was just looking.” “Ah, but it’s such a wonderful book,” the shopkeeper persisted kindly. “I could sell it to you at a discount—” “I don’t have any money,” she says, her voice barely audible even to my enhanced hearing. The shame in her tone hits me like a physical blow through our connection. Fury burns through my veins. She could buy the whole fucking bookshop if she wanted to. She never has to worry about money again.

Shame clings longer than blood. Blood dries. You can scrub it off your skin, hide the stains beneath sleeves, wash it from the floorboards. But shame…it seeps into your bones. Warms your cheeks. You relive it in crowded rooms, in mirrors, in laughter that feels too loud. People forget the mess, but they never forget what you let happen. What you didn’t say. What you didn’t stop. What you became just to survive. That’s the first thought that strikes me as the bathroom door shuts behind him.

When he saw such a scene, he felt a little heartbroken: “Boss, it's not the way to always feel uncomfortable when you take medicine like this.” Shane rinsed his mouth, and when he swallowed, a bitter taste remained in his mouth. His mouth was bitter, and his heart was even more bitter, only when he thought of Bertha's beautiful face, he felt a little sweet. He sat back in his office chair, sighing softly. “Do you still have cigarettes?” Liam was stunned. “Miss Bertha has forbidden you to smoke.” Shane said nothing, holding out his palm towards Liam. Liam took out a box of cigarettes from his pocket that he just bought this morning. It was extremely expensive, so expensive that even he smoked

"There's something in there that can prove my innocence." Edmund hesitated for a moment, then reached into my pocket and pulled out a tissue. When he saw what was written on it, his expression changed instantly.

At nine o’clock the same night, I watched Isabel's live stream on my phone. She was flaunting her million-dollar Patek Philippe watch. "I tattooed the word ‘old spinster’ on that freeloading old hag. She’s thirty years old, but her skin is already all crusty. I made sure to use darker color ink so it wouldn’t come off!" The viewers in the livestream applauded what she did, which inspired her to gloat again.

I am going with the book by the way," Shirley said to Amelia. "Sure you can, I was never into books and i wouldn't start now, a stupid human boy got it for me as a gift, I didn't want to reject it so I wouldn't appear to be rude. "Who in hades get a book for a lady as a gift in this present day? Out of everything to give to me, he got me a book, can you imagine? So he didn't see any jewelry or dress to give to me but a fucking book, do I lolk like a studious type? We met in a goddamn club and not a fucking library, shouldn't that have been enough clue? Thinking about it now is making my blood boil," Amelia said to no one in particular. Shirley nodded her head in disbelief and said to her, "y