Break Her Bed Not Her Heart Novels & Stories

When the petals fell, my Heartbreak Level soared to almost 90. I moved out early the next morning. Freddie stood by the window, watching my slender figure fade into the distance. His heart twisted in agony. The last 10% of the Heartbreak Level naturally came from the words he had spoken the day before his wedding. The moment I closed my eyes, my Heartbreak Level finally hit 100%. The system said he should go and say goodbye. But knowing the memories would remain, Freddie chose not to. Instead, he said silently in his heart, "Goodbye, Rosalie."

Is much better than dying in the hands of the people I trusted most. My hope is destroyed. Faith is shattered. Love is forgotten. Patience is gone. All that is left is a single corner of my heart to complete the mission..... Because after all this, self-respect is not gone. I have to take vengeance. For him. For us. I promised him...... I won't break it like ever. *abusive content over*

The air was so muggy that her sleepless night was really catching up with her. But as she sat there, looking distractedly at the reflections in the shiny wet marble in front of the trinket store across the alleyway, she felt increasingly weary. And all she could think about was how much she loved Chris and how he would never, ever love her. He'd broken her heart into a million jagged fragments once more. And this time she didn't know how she'd ever find the strength to pick the pieces up.

I can hold my head high. Thank you for breaking me; isn't that a line from Sinead O'Connor? I never understood it before. It used to sound like permission, albeit retroactive, to hurt someone. I get it now. Only a lover can wound so deep, cut to the very core. That level of trauma has to be an inside job. You broke me and watched me bleed. You saw me fail to eat, fail to sleep, and you kept on the pressure with your lies and manipulations, increasing the level of cruelty as you went. After all that, what can there be left underneath but the untouchable part of me, my soul, the girl you can never hurt. I can't be more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. So thank you, because as Sinead sai

Her stomach was already grumbling and she rushed to get door assuming it would be the pizza delivery guy . She opened the door, but the next moment she felt she was frozen . A shiver ran down her spine . She felt she was being crushed to dust . All her dreams and hopes were shattered . She saw her man, embracing another girl and kissing her like he wanted to take her breath away . A tear rolled down her cheek .

Saying that she crushed the rose under her heel. “Can you see blood coming out of it?” Grace asked him and Zade looked at the crushed flower confusedly. “You can't see. You crushed my heart just like that when I gave it to you. The way you have broken me there is no way to mend it. Stop putting your effort into winning my heart. It's not gonna happen. Who once broke your heart you shouldn't give it back to him. Because there is a chance he might break it again in the future.”

But those dreams lay shattered now, scattered like shards of glass upon the cold, unyielding floor. For the night had passed, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. And she was left to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart, alone in the cold light of dawn. he night etched itself into her memory with an indelible, horrifying mark. It wasn't just memorable; it was a night that would haunt her for years to come, a night she would never be able to forget no matter how hard she tried.

She sprang lazily upon the mattress and took a pillow. Suddenly, a soft and angelic voice spread through her ears, 'I apologise for breaking you, but I am ready to collect all these broken pieces of yours. You're my heart, just hear me once. Come visit me one time'. She got up right away and looked around with her tired and painful eyes. She knew the voice and could sense the pain inside the voice.

She had not written about the fear that still lingered in the back of her mind. She started typing. She told me he would break my heart. She told me he would tire of me. She told me I was just another broken thing he was trying to fix. Maybe she is right. Maybe he will break my heart. But I would rather have my heart broken by him than never have it touched at all. She saved the document and closed her laptop. Ezra appeared in the doorway. His hair was messy. His eyes were sleepy. He was wearing nothing but gray sweatpants.

Claire stared blankly at the ceiling, a single, silent tear slipping out of the corner of her eye and soaking into the pillow. The distraction had worked. She had saved his brain for another day. But as she lay trapped in the bed she swore she would never sleep in again, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against her back, Claire realized a horrifying truth. She realized exactly how easy it would be to let him break her all over again.