Evidence Of Love Novels & Stories

He won't let Ray treat him like a trash. Not when he knows that behind all those hate and anger, Rayhad loved him. He had loved him. "I hope this reminds you of my love for you, Justine. From the moment the sun shines in the morning and the moon lights up the night sky, remember that I love you." Justine gripped on the necklace, finding courage to go on. Ray had loved him. He could hate him all he wanted, but he couldn't erase the fact that he had loved him.

he responded without glancing up at Adrian. “Come on man, we both know she can save your pretty ass from all this bullshit rules, she loves you Noah—” “Look, it doesn't matter wether or not she loves me, we aren't a match for fuck sake adrian, I do not have what she wants from me” “Everyone deserves a second chance at love Noah, yes vera made a mistake but she's sorry and changed and wants you back, can't you get that into your thick skull?”

Perhaps here, away from the prying eyes and the lingering questions, we could find the answers we sought. I held her hand tightly, our steps echoing through the hidden pathways of the community. With each passing moment, I pushed aside the doubts that lurked in the recesses of my mind. I chose to believe in her, in us, despite the absence of visible proof. For love, I reasoned, was not always bound by tangible evidence. It was an intangible force, capable of defying logic and erasing doubts.

But I know this version of me is learning something essential: Love isn’t proven by proximity. It’s proven by what you do with the distance.

But is it possible that love can come only with a brief meeting? The ego and his mind try to deny it all, but when Liza accidentally sees it then smiles at him, making Robert no longer able to deny it. He had fallen in love with his employee. Although there is no reason how and what made him like Liza. But when someone has fallen in love, they don't need a reason. *** The plane that brought Alex and Precious to the city of Havana for a honeymoon for the newlyweds finally landed. Alex dragged his suitcase while holding Precious's hand. Everyone who sees them will immediately recognize them as newlyweds because their faces shine and look very happy.

She looked at us. "Before we hear testimony, I want to make something clear. Love is not something I can measure or quantify. I can't look at two people and determine if what they feel is real or manufactured. What I can do is evaluate the evidence—the progression of your relationship, the choices you've made, the testimony of those who've observed you." She paused. "I've read the depositions. I've seen the interviews. I've reviewed the evidence both sides have presented. And I have questions. Many questions. So we're going to do something unconventional."

Both—both knowing tomorrow changed—changed everything. "I love you," I told her. "Whatever—whatever Emily's photos show—show. Whatever lies her—her witnesses tell. Whatever—whatever doubt she tries—tries to create. I—I love you. That's—that's not changing. Not—not negotiable. Not—not vulnerable to fake—fake evidence."

My breath hitched as I came face to face with him, his hand slowly resting on my back, his eyes dark and intense. My lips parted, all thoughts leaving my mind as my eyes drifted down his face. I brought my hand gently to rest on his shoulders, my chest heaving hard as his eyes darted below my eyes. "We might have pictures of this," he whispered, his thumb tracing down my spine. "Then you will have pocket sized evidence of me being completely, madly in love with you." I gave a small laugh. "Are there other evidences that are not pocket sized?" He met my eyes briefly. "It's me. I am the biggest evidence of my own ruin."

Choosing to leave his children with proof that their father was capable of growth. I can't speak for a long time after I finish reading. There's nothing to say. There's just the specific grace of being married to someone who understands that real love means documentation. Means testimony. Means putting words on paper so your children know that they were seen. That they were loved. That their existence mattered enough to write down.

"I wouldn't ever do that. For Christ's sake, Alison, don't you realize it by now? Are you blind? I'm in love with you." "No, you're not." Her back was stiff as she turned it to me. "You're not. You thought you were because of the baby, but you shouldn't confuse gratitude with love. You're grateful that I had Evangeline. But you don't love me." "The hell I don't," I growled in a whisper. "What about those nights before she was born? Didn't you feel it in every touch? Couldn't you tell that I was trying to show you how much I love you? We were so close then-I thought you knew-"