Drowning Him In Regret Novels & Stories

Not his own. It crushed him, heavy as an ocean. His chest tightened, breath ragged and shallow. Sorrow. Loneliness. Regret. It pressed into him like a weight, like he was drowning in someone else’s memories. It was overwhelming — too much, too raw, too endless. He didn’t think. He just moved. Barefoot. Shaking. Still in torn fabric clinging to his body like ghosts of what had happened. He didn’t know what he was searching for — only that the ache in his chest clawed at him, pulling him somewhere.

“The whole world knows I'm yours." His gaze softened on that last word. "Do you regret it?" I whispered. "No," was his reply. "Do you think I'm ashamed of you?" I asked this time. "No." "Then why do I feel like I'm the only one drowning here?" I saw his expression change. That hit something in him. He walked slowly toward me. "Because you are drowning," he said. "And I'm the one who pushed you into this." At that moment, his phone rang. He ignored the call, but I didn’t.

I said it with a heavy heart as I stared at his horrible position. "It's normal for living beings to die... But she's my fucking woman!!! Why would she have to die?" He screamed, earning a look of pity from me. His tears fall like silent raindrops, each one a testament to the agony that grips his soul. Memories of her linger like a haunting melody, each note a piercing reminder of what once was. The weight of his regret is a heavy burden, crushing his spirit with each passing moment. I hope he will get through this hard time.

“You regret me, admit it.” I stare down at him. “Every day.” The wind howls through the broken roof, scattering dust across the floor. The smell of salt and rust fills the air, thick and cold. Ariana steps closer, her voice trembling but fierce. “He regrets every choice that brought us here. But you, you don’t regret anything, do you, Adrian?” He laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Regret is for people who lose.” “Then you must be drowning in it,” she says sharply.

It was low and guttural, pulled from the depths of his being. He clutched at his chest, his breathing uneven as he tried to contain the flood of emotions threatening to drown him. “This is all my fault,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “This is all because of me.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and buried his face in his hands again. His tears soaked his palms, his body wracked with sobs that he couldn’t control. Each one tore through him, his grief pouring out in waves. He felt like he was unraveling, every piece of him breaking apart under the weight of his regret.

Juna whispered hoarsely, his voice catching in a throat that suddenly felt unbearably dry. The letter slipped from his grasp and drifted onto the marble floor, accompanied by the collapse of the tall man's final defenses. Juna fell to his knees beside the bed, clutching the sheets where their wedding ring lay. Tears of overwhelming regret finally streamed down his face. The man howled in frustration within the silence of the empty room, realizing that his ignorance and foolishness had driven away the woman he loved most, leaving him to rot in endless regret.

If his rivals found out he cared for someone like that, it would become his Achilles' heel, and he would be restrained in every aspect. At first, he had left himself an escape with Jane, but as he moved step by step to where he was now, he found himself thinking something unexpected. He couldn’t live without Jane. Lost in thought, he looked back at the sea, but it was calm. That flash of white had vanished. He thought Jane was just playing around with him. But gradually realizing something was wrong, he immediately jumped into the sea. Jane had already sunk, not struggling at all. It was clear that she was drowning.

And now, he was pretending to care. I tried to sneer and yell, but I felt as if something was stuck in my throat, rendering me speechless. My vision went black. Before losing consciousness, I heard Jamie shouting, "Save my wife!" Tara's aggrieved voice filled the air too. "Jamie!" In my dreams, I seemed to hear Andy's voice. He reached out his little hand to wipe away my tears. "Mommy, don't cry." I also reached out to hold his tiny hand as if I could trick myself into believing he was still alive.

"You can't hold me out of my will. You can't do that!" Henry chuckled. "Watch me." He simply waved at Martins and Lauren was dragged now towards the guest room. “Diana will never come back to you!” she shouted over her shoulder as she was pulled away. “Never!” Her laughter echoed down the hallway until the door shut behind them. Silence fell heavily over the living room. Henry stood there for a moment, breathing hard. Then the anger drained out of him, leaving something much worse behind. Regret. He exhaled slowly and sank back into the couch. His elbows rested on his knees as he stared down at the floor.

His white shirt was splattered red. His eyes were unfocused. His mouth moved, but the words came out wrong. "You—you did this. You ruined everything. If you were gone, Sophia would come back. She would come back to me." He raised the knife again. Brought it down. Again. Again. No one moved. No one dared. The knife was still in his hand, and his eyes had the look of a man who had already left his body. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.