Five Love Languages Book Review Novels & Stories

Timothee often thought about her love language after she learned about it way back in college. As far as she knew, there were five love languages. Words of encouragement, spending time, getting presents, acts of service, and physical contact were five various methods of showing and receiving love. Not everyone expressed love in the same manner, and not everyone liked to receive love in the same way.

Mostly. Tessa, self-proclaimed relationship expert, had once said over cocktails, “Love languages matter more than chemistry. You can be obsessed with someone, but if they don’t love you the way you need to be loved, it’ll always feel slightly off.” Olivia had laughed at the time. But Tessa had gone on, serious for once. “You have to love someone in their language. Not yours. If they need presence and you give them praise, they’ll still feel alone. If they need touch and you give them gifts, they’ll feel unseen.”

“Sorry for asking that.” “Baby, you need to understand that you're so much more important than all these. How could I freaking leave the house when you're having a bad day.” Of course I knew there was no way he would leave the house. I didn't know who I was clowning when I decided to ask that question. “Thank you.” I appreciated, a smile finding its way to my lips. Words of affirmation was my primary love language and Stefano never failed to show that he understood that. His words had way of uplifting me, bringing back to Life when I thought I was dead. His words had a way of showering light in my life when I thought everything was bleak.

"When someone tells me their husband isn't as loving anymore... my first question wouldn't be 'What did he stop giving you?'" She shook her head. "My first question would be... 'What happened between both of you?'" Silence. "Because marriage isn't only about receiving. It's also about giving." She met Jovi's eyes. "Sometimes giving means listening. It means apologizing first even we didn't feel like we did something wrong. And sometimes it means learning to love someone in the way they understand." She smiled and took a glance of her reflection. "We all need love. We all have different love language. Our love doesn't always look the same. Some people need words. Some people need time. Some n

She reads a passage from the book and she says: "This is exactly what I've been trying to explain to people for decades. Love isn't a feeling. It's a choice. You choose it over and over." She hugs me when she leaves. That evening, I call Dominic. "The book is working," I tell him. "People are reading it and it's changing their lives. People are understanding that the work is worth it." "Of course it's working," he says. "You wrote the truth. You documented what real love looks like. People need that." When I get home, Dominic is waiting for me. He takes me into his arms and he holds me while I cry from the overwhelming weight of knowing that the book matters. That the work I did to document

Leonor came down the stairs looking at me still shyly with all the things he liked on the counter, and letting out a corner smile, but still feeling that the atmosphere was strange : Leonor... I know that maybe now is not the best moment to tell you this, but I never understood what my love language was, I didn't understand what I liked, hoped or did to show my feelings, but I was always shy about them, maybe I was afraid to shout them out to the world, and now I realize that I should have shouted them out to you. I have always tried so hard to repress myself with fear of love that I don't know how to tell you what I feel and now, I am lost, when I look at you, I don't know if there is love,

And somewhere inside the house, a child reads, and two women watch over her. Not because they're afraid. Because they've learned that the language of roots — of staying, of growing, of becoming — is the language of love. And they're finally fluent. End of Chapter 174

"And why are you so sure he'll just give you more money?" I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Because he's acting like a child, Mae. A rich, spoiled child who threw a tantrum tonight. He'll have to apologize. And when he does, he'll do it with money. It's the only language he speaks." I shrugged. "Besides, my love language is money. It's simple. No strings attached." She shook her head, a small, sad smile on her face. "How can you say that? How can you be with a man who takes care of you like that and not have fallen in love with him?"

“I will never stop loving you, my flower.” Bullshit. I stood up fast. The anger came quick and hot, and I was glad for it. Anger is useful. Anger keeps you sharp. It stops you from making the deadly mistake of feeling something tender for someone who already shown you who they are. I hated him. I hated that I had believed every word he said. I hated that I had kept believing him even when I could see the smoke rising from my country’s border. If I ever got the chance—

He also knew that he shouldn’t push her too hard to accept gifts from him, since she was a proud person and her love language was acts of service and he was considering that touch would also be part of it, considering how guarded she’d been about touch in the beginning…and the fact that she’d run away from him after he’d touched her at the river. Staunchly, he pushed that memory away. He would not allow that memory to taint this trip. He would never impress her by showering her with expensive gifts. Of course, she would be grateful for it. But she would not see the need for all of it. She would not be won over by his money. And that was the reason he’d thought to finally confess this se