Books About Love Lost Novels & Stories

Not frequently—maybe five times in total—but each time, it left me more broken than the last. He would never love me. He would never claim me. Jake soaked up every ounce of what I gave but never once offered real love in return. And still, he was kind. The kind that listens to your rants, that shows up when you’re crying, that helps without asking for anything back. He did everything—except love me. I wanted to be his. That dream kept me trapped. But by second semester of third year, I started trying to break free. Jake had this habit—he’d vanish without a word, then reappear, sweet and thoughtful, like no time had passed. And every time, I let myself get caught again.

It has an ornate metal clasp on the front which locks the pages giving the illusion of it being a box. I run my fingers over the clasp and it clicks open. I feel my wolf push to the front of my mind but I'm so engrossed in the book I hardly even notice. I open the cover carefully and look at it. On the inscription page is some writing and a hand drawn picture of a wolf in black ink. I read the inscription out loud. 'Journal of Lycius 1800AD' "Where does it say that?" Hunter says looking over my shoulder.

I burst into a deafening cry that echoed in every corner of the room after saying those words. "You're angry with me! Everyone is angry with me! Is there really no one who loves me?" From crying, I suddenly laughed again. "Love? Is there even such a thing?" I said, sounding crazy. "Hahaha! There's no such thing! No one loves me!" If someone else were watching me now, they would surely think I was really crazy, which is true because I've been crazy for three years now.

"We're done. For good." He slapped it out of my hand, and I, running on empty, stumbled to the floor. He just looked down like I was trash. "What's with the attitude? I missed Millie's birthday—she'll have plenty more." My throat tightened. While he'd been off with his lover, Millie was in the ICU, tangled in tubes. And while they held each other, she'd slipped away, leaving nothing but ashes. "There won't be any more birthdays," I said, barely holding back tears.

No! The ache in my heart intensifies until I can barely breathe; in this dizzy state of denial and confusion, the rest of her words continue to penetrate my foggy mind. "You may like him because he's lost, but do you know what happens to people who love lost boys? They become lost themselves... I just hope a part of you is still there" * * Hurting is what makes love real, but sometimes there's a hidden voice within you secretly hoping that it will be different, something better.

Stanley couldn't believe he had lost a considerate, smart, and beautiful wife who had loved him wholeheartedly. He was desperate to win her back. He wanted her back by his side and back in their home. He sat in his car gripping the steering wheel, pondering how to regain Iris' affection. He remembered that she loved reading, particularly the works of the author named R. There was a rare book by R that Iris had always wanted but could never find. He had always known this, but he had never tried to help her look for it because, well, it's just a book.

“He loved another! Yes, that same woman you thought he was just having a mere fling with—your darling betrothed loved her and never once stopped looking for her. You may have cleared her flight history so well, but when he finds her, your little secret will be out in the open!” “I’m not scared, Vivian. Not in the slightest, because if he loved her, he wouldn’t let her go just because you returned,” Signoral replied. Vivian stared and nodded before turning to leave. “Maybe you don’t know that we value things as humans, mostly after we lose them. I can say that I learned that the hardest way.” “You’ve been settled, Viv, darling. Leave the low life and take care of that child,” Signoral respond

One more love lost. . . . __________________

Suddenly he remembered what he had said to Camila three months earlier: Love hurts more than people might think. Loving is the only way to discover the worst sides of a whole. Without love, we are nothing. With it, we can lose everything we considered essential. The only way to avoid a tragedy is by forgetting its faith, and finding a way to cross the sentimental labyrinth that drives the hearts of lovers. Pain teaches, and there is nothing more painful than loving someone who will not have time to return such affection.

I’m never like this, I don’t care about others then why her? When we arrived at the cemetery, I was stunned, I didn’t expect her to come to the cemetery. Was that the reason why she was whimpering? And with the way she looked at me today, the tears and pain I saw in her eyes made me wonder if that’s how it feels when you lose someone you love. I have never loved before so I don’t know how it feels. I canceled my plans and drove back to the cemetery, I can’t leave her alone at least not when she’s all sad. When I got there, I saw her seated in front of a grave that says ‘AMELIA IAN SINCLAIR