Difference Between Regret And Remorse Novels & Stories

But now, here I was facing the consequences of my own choices. And as much as I wanted to vomit again, as much as I hated myself for what I had done, a part of me didn’t regret it. It was sick. It was twisted. But I didn’t regret it. Noah had broken me long before I found solace in another man's arms. He had stripped away my sense of self-worth, and now I was just as much a cheater as he was. My stomach twisted again, but this time it wasn’t from guilt. It was from the realization that maybe, just maybe, I was never going to go back to being the woman I used to be.

OV No one knows how but everyone has things that they regret. Some regret not treasuring what they had, but they realize too late that what they had was precious. Some regret unsaid thoughts and words when they had the opportunity to say them. Others regret not being courageous enough to take risks. Hamdan was no exception. He had a lot of regrets. He regretted being selfish, he regretted not trusting his beloved wife, he regretted driving her away yet his biggest regret was not being there for his wife. The last call she made to him was like a wakeup call to his selfish self.

He said and I veered my gaze to Ralph in my fright. He had tears in his eyes and I had a swollen feeling of grief and fear within me. Both of us were on different levels of pain. While mine was emotional pain, his was more physical but we both shared one emotion, one similar pain. Regret. I was in regret and I could see that Ralph was. We were about to die because we had been stupid. I was about to die because I had been greedy. “Should I kill the King or the Queen first?” The Lycan King asked an open question.

Not guilt, not regret. Just different.

The regret was probably real too, in the way that regret is real when the consequences of a thing arrive and make the thing itself feel different than it felt when you were doing it. But real regret and changed character were different things, and standing in a banquet hall demanding remarriage while your ex-husband was still in the process of introducing himself to the room that was about to find out who he was, was not the behavior of someone who had understood what went wrong. It was the behavior of someone who had found the thing they lost and wanted to pick it up and put it back where it had been, unchanged, as though the year between putting it down and picking it up again had not happ

Somehow, she’d read it in me — the secret hope I’d been trying to drown all day. “I never—” “Don’t lie,” she whispered. “It’s already ugly enough.” And then the door closed, leaving me with my own reflection in the polished wood — a face I barely recognized. I stayed outside until the night insects started their chorus. For the first time, I realized that regret wasn’t the same as redemption. Regret just meant you saw the wreckage; redemption meant you picked up the pieces. And right now, Clara was the one bleeding from all the glass I’d broken.

Something I never thought I'd see in them. Regret. Sadness.

Sunlight from the western windows cut across the floor between us. “You meant what you said this morning,” I said eventually. It wasn’t a question. “Yes.” No defense attached to it. No strategic framing. Just yes. I studied her quietly. The difficult thing about remorse was that genuine remorse changed nothing retroactively. Damage remained damage even when the person responsible finally understood its shape. But understanding still mattered. Somewhere. “I don’t know what happens next,” I admitted. “That is reasonable.” “You hurt people trying to preserve structures that should never have existed.”

Lately, I found myself doing things and regretting them immediately. I should have taken a different approach. Who knows what she might do now? I took a deep breath. Everything in my life was falling apart. If only I didn’t go on that business trip. At least things would have been a little bit better. I went to the bed and plopped myself on it. I took my phone and checked my personal emails, messages, and anything that would keep me distracted from the mess going on. After laying in bed for a while, I called my assistant.