Expectation Of Love Novels & Stories

Ethan, now frustrated, "Dad, this is insane! Elah and I love each other. What happened between you and her mama has nothing to do with us." Mr. Jakes staring again, "Love? You are just like me, Ethan. She's after your money, and you are too eyeless to see it. A woman who loves you will never cheat on you like she did last night." His words hit hard on Ethan and in a twinkle of an eye Ethan who was defensive of me became my foe. In tears, "Mr. Jakes, I would never do anything to hurt Ethan. I love him more than anything." "Action speaks louder than words, my honey."

“Hannah, this is crazy.” She watches me mull over all this craziness and she looks at me with pity and sympathy. What if this could all be true…Then yeah, I would love to have a love like this person is describing. But it just doesn’t happen for me. I’m not meant to have this kind of love.

We sat shoulder to shoulder, backs against the wall, two men reduced to silence by a sleeping child. “You did well today,” he said at last. “I didn’t do anything,” I replied. Miguel huffed softly. “Exactly.” I glanced at him. He was serious now, the humor gone. “She tested the line,” he continued. “You didn’t move it. That matters.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “She thought I’d punish her.” “She expected it,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.” That distinction settled heavily in my chest. Expectation was worse. Expectation meant the harm had been consistent enough to become law. “What if this isn’t enough?” I asked quietly. “What if love doesn’t overwrite fear?”

Of course, she did. She tried to reach me. God, she tried. Fancy dinners, long vacations, “let’s try again” talks. But love can’t be forced. Chemistry doesn’t negotiate. One night, she stood by the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself like she was freezing from the inside. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve waited for you to love me. I’ve waited for a child. I’ve waited for laughter. I’m tired of waiting, Kenneth.”

This realization was what hurt Bella more than seeing Damian choose to save Dakota instead of her. Damian's mood was growing volatile. He threw his hands around her and squeezed desperately. "Please! It's not what you think! Believe me! I love you! I just love you too much!" he cried. "I was just scared that I'm not good enough for you! I'm scared that if you ever saw a side of me that's imperfect, you'd stop loving me! "Just this thought drove me mad! I was just so scared of it!" He started to sob. Tears splashed onto her hands.

It didn’t have the smell of alcohol or the constant tension in the air. So why? Why did she care about me that much? I didn’t understand it. No one had ever cared about me like that. People might show a passing interest, but no one did this. No one offered a hand without expecting something in return. But with her, it was different. She didn’t expect anything from me. She just wanted to help, wanted to make things better for me and my mom, even when I didn’t deserve it.

I continued before fear could enter. “I want to remain in your life.” His shoulders relaxed. “I want you to trust me.” “That sounds like repayment.” “No.” I shook my head. “Love is not supposed to demand immediate repayment.” His eyes widened. I had used the word. Love. Not care. Not admiration. I did not take it back. “If my feelings are real,” I continued, “then they remain my responsibility.” “What does that mean?” “It means I do not give you kindness and expect romance in return.”

Something small. “But this is marriage,” I said slowly, trying to make him understand. “It’s not something you just exchange like this.” “That depends on how you see it,” he replied without hesitation. I looked down at my hands resting in my lap. This felt wrong. Everything about it felt wrong. Marriage was supposed to mean something. It was supposed to be love, trust, and choice. Not a deal. Not something traded for money. I was still trying to find the right words when my phone suddenly rang.

She picked up the letter. “And this. This letter doesn’t ask for anything. Doesn’t pressure you. Doesn’t manipulate. It just loves you. Openly. Honestly. With no expectation of return.” Maya’s eyes were filled with tears. “Diana, this is what real love looks like. This is what it looks like when someone loves you madly enough to let you go. Madly enough to wait. Madly enough to support your independence while hoping you’ll choose to share it with him.” I looked around at the gifts. At the evidence of six months of patient love. Of attention paid. Of memories cherished. Of hope maintained.

Today, I didn't want to spend most of my time thinking about the many reasons why I have decided not to go to church with Uncle Max rather I wanted to spend my time pouring words of love for Mum on an empty sheet of paper but I did not. Throughout my short existence that is yet to come to an end, I have realized something that has been bothering me for quite sometime now. It is about love. It is about the simple drug that binds families together. Love is a mere fabric of unrealistic expectations that never comes to pass. It is an unavoidable tragic addiction that we humans like to seek whenever we have an opportunity. It is a swell in our head that keeps on getting bigger everyday as long as