Every Tear Novels & Stories

Through the rearview mirror, her figure grew smaller and smaller. At first, she hurried away in quick little steps. Then she broke into a run, her high heels striking the pavement faster and faster. Only then did my composure finally shatter. Covering my face, I let the tears spill through my fingers. The direction Delilah was running was the exact opposite of the road that led home. The path that was supposed to lead us to happiness had ultimately fallen apart because of betrayal.

The tears that gathered at the corners of my eyes were not just tears of emotion, but also a tribute to the extraordinary journey we were embarking upon—a journey defined by promises kept, and a love that was destined to endure the tests of time. A single tear traced a silvery path down my cheek, a fragile testament to the weight of emotion that had taken hold of me. With a tender touch, he reached out, his thumb brushing against my skin to whisk away the shimmering droplet. The very gesture he employed, one of gentleness and understanding, spoke volumes about the depth of our connection.

Tears of shame, anger and hopelessness. “At least I didn’t get hurt by you.” I whisper as the first tear overflows and fall down my cheek. His grip on my chin softens and he runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek to dry my tears. “You need the pain I give you. It is only physical.”

She had witnessed his vulnerability and strength intertwined, and she knew that his tears were an expression of a deep longing for the love he had lost. Tiger's shoulders trembled with silent sobs, his grief echoing through the room. Christiana held him close, offering solace through her touch. She understood that sometimes, tears were the only way to release the weight of cherished memories and unspoken emotions. As Tiger's tears subsided, Christiana brushed a strand of hair away from his tear-streaked face. She whispered softly, "Tell me about your childhood, Tiger. Tell me about the moments that shaped you."

I said. "Good." Liora reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small glass vial. Empty. "One more thing. I lied about the f*e. There's a material component." She held up the vial. "One tear. From each of you. Freely given, after the deal is struck. Not grief tears. Not pain tears. The kind that come when you've been holding something for a very long time and you finally put it down." She set the vial on the bedside table and stepped back.

she spits, tears burning her eyes. I inhale. My body wobbles and the invisible thread holding me in place breaks. My eyes hurt. Tears well up and a single tear drops and rolls down my cheek.

He said the smell of cooking oil on my skin made him sick. One time, I bought myself a birthday cake to celebrate with him. But he threw it straight in the trash just because I'd set it on the floor for a second while unlocking the door. "Trash is where filth belongs, and that's where you belong, too." Then, why did all his rules go out the window when it came to Vivian? My eyes stung. I tilted my head back, blinking hard at the sky to hold back the tears. But then it hit me—the dead couldn't cry. I was a spirit trapped between worlds, maybe because my attachment ran too deep to let me move on.

Sasha timidly said, "It's Christmas today, so I'm here to spend time with you, Grandpa Connor, and Grandma Katie." Connor and Katie replied, "Don't call us that. We don't have a granddaughter-in-law like you. "Andy, how about you come to the room with us to play?" Andy shook his head. He dropped his toy and rushed to stand in front of me. "No! I want to protect Mommy!" Feeling emotional, I could not contain my tears as I crouched and hugged him. Even though he carried Miles' bloodline in him, I was most reluctant to part with the young one even after my divorce from Miles.

I immediately rushed to wipe it off but she shook her head. "Contrary to what everyone says, tears are not a sign of weakness. Instead it only means that you feel things deeply. Your life has not been the most perfect the past few years and only the blind would pretend like it didn't hurt him." Her words continued to stretch into my heart, twisting and turning, almost as though I was before a surgeon who was making a new heart.

But the weight of her mother’s accusations threatened to unravel everything she had ever held dear. As Clarissa spoke, her tears continued to flow, unbidden and uncontrollable. They were not the usual tears of sorrow, but something far more mysterious and haunting. As they slid down her cheeks, they didn’t merely soak into the fabric of her clothes. They began to change, transforming into something far more beautiful yet sorrowful. The tears became pearls, delicate and luminous, rolling down her lap like precious jewels. Each one seemed to hold a story, a secret she was too afraid to uncover. Their weight was not just physical; it was emotional, pressing her heart deeper into despair.