Novelas y relatos de Five Years Wasted

The way she had signed the papers in silence and walked out of the mansion alone and disappeared into a city I hadn't known to look in for five years. I pressed the malachite against my palm until I could feel its edges. I had made him wait five years to be found. I had made her survive five years alone with what I had done. The car moved through Philadelphia toward the highway. I sat in the back with the malachite and the weight of five years of wrong decisions settling into my bones like weather moving in, like a storm that had been building on the horizon for eleven months and had finally arrived. I did not look away from it.

Her grandfather bellowed, his voice distorted by fury, “Please tell me that you didn't fire, Raymond. I just received a resignation from a man who has served this family for thirty years. A man who knows more of our secrets than you have years on this earth.” Vivica’s voice trembled with fear as she tried to explain, “Grandpa, he failed to follow a simple instruction to pick me up from the West gate. When I reprimanded him, he didn’t even have the decency to apologize; instead, he left me stranded in the university parking lot. Good riddance.” Her Grandpa couldn't believe his ears. His voice dropped to a low growl that was far more terrifying than his initial roar, “Good riddance? You didn't

“Take it. You’ll catch a cold.” “Why do you care?” He fell silent for a moment. “I know you hate me.” “I don’t hate you.” I said, “I just think I wasted five years on someone who wasn’t worth it.” “Those five years—” I cut him off. “I worked sixteen-hour days during those five years in the middle of nowhere. My periods stopped for months at a time. My hair was falling out in handfuls. I endured all of it because I kept telling myself that I would finally marry you when I came back.”

Then, she started crying uncontrollably. She wept, "My precious girl, I finally found you! You've suffered so much these past seven years!" Dad stood nearby with reddened eyes, trembling as he reached out to pat my head. Looking at their aged, weathered faces, I could no longer hold back my tears. Seven years ago, I was involved in a massive multi-vehicle collision. I lost my memory and ended up stranded in Saphira, where Wayne took me in. I had thought Wayne was the only person in the world I could rely on.

The bar was filled with low music and distant chatter, but it all felt muted—like I was trapped in my own world of pain. I laughed weakly, shaking my head. Five years! Five fucking years! I had wasted it on Raphael! Loving him with all my might! Loving him with all my soul! Making him meals! Paying almost all his bills. Thinking I was doing the right thing as a soon-to-be wife. What have I been doing for five years then? All I ever wished for was getting married to him and having beautiful babies together. Was that too much to ask for? “I’ve been such an idiot…

When things were still being built. I am not a sentimental woman. But I believe in anniversaries the way I believe in contracts — they mean something because both parties agreed they would. Five years is not nothing. Five years is the Hargrove crisis and the miscarriage we never named and the three months he worked in Singapore and I repainted the study just to have something to do with my hands. Five years is a number that should be honored.

My boyfriend, Seth Ellington, suffers from amnesia, and he has forgotten everything about me. His memories are frozen in the year when he was still in love with his first love, Lillian Summerfield. The doctor tells me there's a chance he can recover, so I stay by his side and help him through his treatment. For three years, I take care of him as neither his wife nor a member of his family, becoming the laughingstock of the town. People even place bets on when I'll give up and when Seth'll regain his memories. It all comes to a head when I go to pick him up from the bar and accidentally overhear his conversation with one of his friends. "Seth, I have to say, that little amnesia act of y

A week before the wedding, I brought my mother to my fiancee's hospital for a sedated endoscopy. My mother woke up early in the morning, combed her hair back until not a strand was out of place, changed into her best but already bleaching shirt, and wore a pair of new shoes. She held her number and said quietly, "If Lorelei's busy, we can just let this go. Don't waste her time." I patted her arm. "It's alright. I made an appointment. It won't waste her time." She woke up at five in the morning and waited until eleven without eating anything. By then, my mother's legs were already trembling. I texted Lorelei, "Mom can't hang on much longer. How many are left until us?" It took her a lo

The day my husband, Cameron Gray, died unexpectedly, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills. His best friend and my sworn enemy, Alfie Crawford, kicked the door open with bloodshot eyes and dragged me back from the brink of death. "You have to live, even if it's for Cameron's sake!" For the next three years, Alfie reins in his temper completely. Even when I step outside just to take out the trash, he insists on coming with me. I thought I'd finally moved past the pain. Somewhere along the way, I even fell for him. In the second year of our relationship, I hold a positive pregnancy test, ready to surprise Alfie, only to find something buried at the very back of his drawer. It's a

When I heard his confession about what happened five years ago, the tears came before I could stop them. They spilled down my cheeks in a steady stream. I couldn’t believe we had lost five whole years because of one terrible misunderstanding. All that time apart, all the nights I had spent wondering, all the days I had tried to forget him — and it had been a mistake. Maybe we needed those years to grow. Maybe we both had to become different people before we could find our way back to each other. Still, the sadness of everything we had lost sat heavy and sharp in my chest.