Everything I Never Told You A Novel Novels & Stories

The phone slipped half an inch down my palm before I caught it. Mum answered on the third ring. "Hello? Mara?" "Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered urgently into the phone, my voice low and desperate. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" "Tell you what?" My mother's voice was carefully neutral, which somehow made it worse. "Miguel thought he was marrying Clara," I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "He asked me this morning if my name was Clara. He didn't know. He didn't know he was marrying me. He thought the entire time that I was Clara."

I fought back with all my might, my eyes burning with tears. That memory was the hardest for me to talk about. I was the one who got hurt. I was the one who felt the most pain. However, none of them would help me. They did not believe that it happened to me. Only a stranger sent me a text, telling me to stay strong. I never thought they would learn the truth, but Shane showed them everything. The voices from the phone kept playing, and Patrick, in a rage, smashed the phone to bits. Jim and Calvin just stood there, stunned and white as ghosts.

Pero napansin kong ganoon din ang ginawa niya. Tahimik niyang binuksan ang papel. Pagkatapos ay bigla siyang napatigil. Nanlamig ang pakiramdam ko. "Ano iyon?" Hindi siya agad sumagot. Sa halip ay iniabot niya sa akin ang papel. Nanginginig ang mga daliri ko habang binabasa ang unang linya. —If you're reading this... then something went terribly wrong.— Parang huminto ang paghinga ko.

I can speak but I choose not to because I'm afraid. My legs are barely usable from the constant broken bones that healed incorrectly. Standing or walking for more than ten minutes I start to have pain in my bones. Yet I still have to do everything around the house I have learned to endure the pain. It also doesn't help that I don't know how to read or write since no one ever taught me I had to learn things from observation. I remember when I was about six or seven there was a little girl named Anna who lived next door to me. She sometimes would sneak over when no one was home and we'd play. She taught me many things like colors, shapes, and numbers.

The second she hung up, it felt like my chest had been hollowed out and filled with ice. That's when it hit me—I'd been played the whole time. Her promises to save my money? Total lies. From the start, she'd planned to use my savings for Chad's house. That night, I cried until I physically couldn't anymore. Then I begged, borrowed, and scrambled until I finally scraped together the ten grand I needed for treatment. The next five years were absolute hell. The pain was relentless, gnawing at me every night, leaving me clutching my pillow just to keep from screaming.

It was a dangerous game, and I knew that the stakes were higher than ever. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across our secluded estate, I received an anonymous package. Inside was a small notebook, weathered and worn, with a note that read, "The truth lies within." Curiosity mingled with trepidation as I opened the notebook. The pages were filled with Cassandra's handwriting—ramblings, fragments of memories, and cryptic clues. It was her diary, a window into her tormented soul. As I delved deeper into the pages, the puzzle began to unravel. The truth of our shared past emerged, piece by piece, revealing a shocking revelation that threatened to shatter ev

It was a relic of his past, one I had never known existed. With shaky hands, I opened it, and my eyes immediately locked on Adrian’s handwriting, messy but familiar. The words were written like a confession—a record of everything he had never told me, everything I had never asked about. And there, in the first few pages, was something that cut deeper than anything I had read before.

Not before. She ignored the heavy weight in her chest, went back to the bedroom, and changed out of the dress still damp from her tears. She took the black card Philip had given her from the drawer, walked to the garage, and drove away. She did not stop until she reached Queso, the large boutique where she usually shopped. Inside, Blair glanced through the glass and her face tightened into a frown. Bianca noticed at once. “What is it, Blair, darling?”

Under the streetlight stood a tall man, snow collecting in his dark hair. I blinked, hardly believing what I saw. I murmured, "Christopher?" Christopher Joyner turned toward me, his face lighting up despite the freezing air. His nose was red from the cold, and in his hands was a bouquet. He smiled as he walked toward me. "Didn't you say you wanted to see the first snow with the person you love most?" My chest tightened. He had been working late just last night, yet because of one offhand comment I had made, he caught a red-eye flight just to see me.

“You think we wanted her to turn out like this? We tried to lecture her over and over again. She chose to throw it all away! “I, Zoey Callie, an ER director married to a respected criminal investigator, and yet I gave birth to a daughter like this. She has been the stain of my life!” My father rubbed my mother’s back, comforting her. Clearly, he was on her side. So, this was the reason they had never loved me. No wonder they hated it when I called them Mom and Dad in front of others. Ghosts would not cry, but the ache in my chest swelled until it hurt. Mrs. Lawson opened her mouth to say something more, but my mother cut her off sharply. “Enough. I do not want to hear another word about Ruby