Bound By The Past Novels & Stories

Against all reason, I turned back. “I just wanted to say something, sir.” He didn’t answer, so I went on. “I’m sorry for the other day. My mum is in the hospital. They called me—it was an emergency. The driver wasn’t involved. I dragged him into my mess. Please… forgive me.” His lips curved into a humorless chuckle, hands sliding into his pockets. “You must not know anything about me.” I stayed silent, fingers twisting nervously together. “I don’t forgive,” he said, his voice low and measured. “You walk around like my rules don’t apply to you. Like you’re untouchable. Indestructible.”

"You'll never be able to start writing a new chapter in your life's tale if you're stuck in the past, no matter how hard you try to forget. Each page has to be flipped over." “The past serves as my boundary and fence, Black.” "Yet, this is not a box made of silver that will remain forever. The fence is only made of steel, which is brittle and can be broken easily, and it very certainly has a key,” before Black withdrew in my mind, he left his last words, "Find the place where you are intended to be right now. What exactly are you meant to be doing?" I lowered my head and shut my eyes. As I did so, a picture of Veronica carrying Morgan emerged in my mind.

“Better chained than gone.” I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her she’d just made things worse. But even thinking about letting go of her again made my body seize in phantom pain. We were bound now. Not by choice. Not by magic alone. But by something far older. And as the night wind shifted, I felt it again—like a storm still far out at sea, gathering force. It wasn’t done with us. Not yet.

She tried to steady her breath, but the vivid memories of that awful day from her past overpowered the present. She was transported back to a time when the fabric of her reality unraveled. The details of the past incident blurred with the present, each moment entangled with the other. The emotional weight of that traumatic event, the sense of powerlessness, and the irrevocable change it had wrought upon her life surged to the forefront.

The way their love was twisted by pain and obsession, how they couldn’t escape the ghosts of their past, it hit too close to home. I thought about Bell. She was gone now, taken by Theo’s cruelty, and I was left here, stuck in this house with nothing but memories. Like Heathcliff and Catherine, I was bound by a past I couldn’t change. It was suffocating, and the more I thought about it, the harder it became to focus on the words in front of me.

If I knew that all I needed was tears, then I should have cried all this time. “Yes, you can, but,” My heart sank again when I heard, “Mr. Zion is stuck in the past; his memories are stuck at the naming ceremony of Arabella.” That was almost twenty years ago, what am I supposed to do now, “But is he doing okay?” I asked the most important question.