Novel & Cerita Breathless Synonym

My breath hitched. ‘Fuck’

Love can hit you when you least expect it. It could be a soft easy wind that caresses you and gets stronger over time till it absorbs into your body and heart. Other times it can hit you like a gale-force wind and take every breath you will ever have, and breathe life into the person who took it in the first place. Laken stole my breath. She was my gale-force wind, and I will gladly give her every breath I have just to keep her safe, alive, and mine. If I have to live without her then I don’t want my breath. I don’t want anything but her. I will go to hell and back to get her from the grips of death.

Hailey*** I can’t breathe. It feels like my lungs are collapsing under the weight of everything, like I’m drowning in this cold, suffocating nightmare. My body is trembling, but it’s not from the chill in the room. The hospital air is frigid, but it’s the fear, the terror, that has a hold on me, squeezing tighter and tighter with each breath.

But it will not stop like a pebble rolling down a great hill, gaining momentum with every stretched moment. The air bends first—then the walls. Stone walls seem to breathe, pressing closer like a closing jaw. Carved molding above the hearth liquefies, candlelight blurring into molten halos that pulse and writhe. Each breath becomes a razor—sharp, shallow, scraping against the inside of my throat. I cannot breathe. The sound that leaves me is half gasp, half sob—stumbling, uneven. My chest rises and falls in desperate, shallow rhythms. My gown tightens like a noose, fabric strangling, suffocating.

With every passing minute, I find it more and more difficult to breathe. And just when I feel like the weight of despair is going to crush me, I hear a familiar voice; "What is going on?" ________

I could barely breathe. “I– Matt–Tony–Please!”

The cold voice spoke from the shadows of the night, sending her fear into overdrive. Her breathing ragged and her heart beating frantically, she searched wild-eyed for the source of the cold voice in the shadows of the cemetery. Her pupils drowned out the clear grey of her eyes, her cheeks flushed from the running, her chest heaving from her laboured breaths, causing her cleavage to become dangerously close to spilling from her dress, her pale skin scratched and dirty from the branches and the mud she fell in, her hair was a tangled mess of curls full of small twigs and fall leaves. He found her fear delicious. He stalked her from the shadows, chuckling darkly as each snap of a twig caused h

he says. His voice is different now. It's softer, and I hate that I notice it. “Breathe.” I let out a shaky breath, my chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven. “I am breathing,” I snap, even though I clearly… I am not doing it properly. His gaze sharpens slightly. “No, you’re panicking.” “I’m not panicking,” I insist. “You are,” he says calmly. “And you’re about two seconds away from passing out.”

Her​ breathin‌g be⁠cam‍‌‌e u‌ne‍⁠ven. The space bet​we​en t​hem d‍isa⁠ppeare​d in​c​h by inch, she could fee​l his bre​ath now. H‌er‌ fingers tigh‍tened against‌ his shirt u‌nconsciously a⁠s em‌‍ot‌ions crash‍e‍d ins⁠ide‌ he‌r c⁠he⁠st all at once⁠. Confus​io​n.⁠‌ F‍ear. Longing.

My breathing stopped. Hickeys.