Flowing Writing Novels & Stories

After I became pregnant, my figure changed, and my face grew puffy. My fiancé began to treat me with a subtle, almost imperceptible sense of disdain. When the baby was five months along, it happened to be Valentine's Day. That day, he finally agreed to take our wedding photos, something I'd been hoping for. But just as we arrived at the bridal studio, his phone rang. "Mike, I just got back to the country. My friends are hosting a gathering, and everyone's bringing their boyfriends. Could you come and pretend to be mine?" It was a few short sentences, yet it completely altered the expression on his face. He turned abruptly, stepping out of the studio with a look of urgency. "Lucy's back. I have to go see her," he said. Hearing those words, a fire of rage ignited inside me, one I couldn't suppress. "For her? You're going to leave me here alone?" I demanded. "Do you even know how long I've been looking forward to today? It's Valentine's Day, and instead of staying with me, you're going to be with her?" His impatience flared visibly as I stood my ground. Without a word, his hand pushed me aside, and he strode out of the shop. "We can take wedding photos any day. I'm the only one Lucy has in this country. I have to go see her," he said. Then, gripping my wrist with alarming force, he shoved me, sending me sprawling to the floor. Without a backward glance, he got into his car and drove off. I felt a sudden, wet heat flowing from my lower abdomen. Pain surged through my stomach, sharp and unbearable, as my consciousness started to fade. A wave of despair and terror consumed me. Someone. Anyone. Please save my baby.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself supposedly transmigrated to some ancient era. Every morning, before light touched the sky, someone would yank me out of bed to haul trash, chop wood, and do whatever filthiest job needed doing. Somehow, I'd become the lowest-ranked servant in the entire estate. The estate lord's son would climb onto my back and ride me around the courtyard like some pet he was proud to show off. Anyone in the household could hit me, kick me, or shove me aside, and not a single soul would speak up. Five years passed like that, so awful that I almost lost my mind, as if I were living in hell. Then one day, a group of servants cornered me. They didn't bother hiding their intention. The moment I saw their faces, I knew I was in trouble. Fists flew, boots landed, and everything blurred. Just before I passed out, I heard them whispering, "We're going to kill him if we keep this up." "Come on. This place only looks like some old noble estate. It's not an actual one. If he dies here, we're the ones who'll get dragged to court!" "Relax. Ms. Shaw will handle it. The idiot pissed off her childhood sweetheart. Getting tricked into this place is exactly what he deserves." Fear swallowed everything, and the world went dark. When I woke again, the lady of the house had conveniently "returned from visiting her family." The lord threw a grand celebration with tables full of food, wine flowing, and musicians playing like nothing had happened. I carried dishes into the banquet hall and lifted my head. Her face was the same as my wife's, Melissa Shaw. I set the final dish down, stepped closer, and in a voice only she could hear, asked, "Ma'am… are you enjoying your little game?"

Isaac held her hand with the depleting energy in him, his body shaking as he felt the steady stream of crimson fluid pumping out of his heart and flowing down his skin, staining his vest. She tried to pull the scissors out again, but he held on tighter, squeezing his face at the searing pain. "Love," He mumbled, looking into her cold eyes. Natalie pulled at the scissors, but he held on with every little energy he had in him, shaking his head in plea that she'd stop. She didn't, and his tenacity made her twist the tool, and he let out a painful groan, a hot drop of tear escaping his eyes. ... As he laid there with four bleeding puncture wounds in his body, his bloodshot eyes fell on her unconscious body, and more painful tears trickled down his face. He had failed. He had failed his wife and son. *** Natalie Cabel's life changes from bitter to bittersweet after a one-night stand with Isaac Bardekk, heir apparent to the throne of Bardaen. His love was contagious and bewitching, and she found herself helplessly wanting him in her forever. But a lady without roots could never be a crown princess of such a powerful kingdom, especially not one who lived a promiscuous life. Isaac, however, was not ready to give up as he promised her a new identity, prestige, and immunity in return for her being a faithful wife. For how long, though, and to what extent can she remain immune to hate and adversity from the queen consort? The queen mother? Her father-in-law, the king? And the subjects? If so, can she really uphold her faithfulness and be free from her husband's hate? Even when Vincent, Isaac's stepbrother, targets that?

I'm the only daughter of Marcus Nightbloom, the former Alpha King. I'm also the fated mate of Lucas Ashbourne, the new Alpha King. On the night before the coronation ceremony, I happily whip out the spirit stones that I've been saving up for the past three years, hoping to craft Lucas a new scepter. But I find an exile proposal with my name on it as well as a stack of close-up photos of the Rogues violating me in a hidden room of Lucas' study. His handwriting can be seen on the back of one of the photos. "She's defective, so she's not suitable to become the Luna Queen." I grab the photos and rush off to confront Lucas. But he merely toys with the crown meant for the Luna Queen. "Although you're my fated mate, you're still tainted, Elena. An Alpha King's mate must be perfect and flawless. You, on the other hand, reek of Rogues. Whenever I pick up your scent, I feel so nauseous that I want to puke. "If werewolves are scarred, those scars are their medals. But if she-wolves are tainted by other wolves, they are impure and deserve to be discarded." I find Lucas' logic very ridiculous. "I did that just so I could save your life five years ago!" Lucas merely chuckles icily in return. "I never asked for your help. Anyway, I will never mark a defective she-wolf who's tainted by other wolves." At the coronation ceremony the next day, Lucas showcases the evidence of me getting violated by the Rogues in front of the entire Kingdom. I never shed a tear at that moment. After all, Lucas has no idea that the she-wolf, whom he has just discarded like trash, has the bloodline that's capable of conquering all wolves flowing through her veins.

How dare you!!" His stare and cold voice made me step back with fear ,scared of what he will do. "You clumsy woman!! Keep those disgusting hands of yours steady or go die somewhere!! How dare you hurt her!! Do you even know who she is!!" "Alessandro..stop..it's alright.." Andrea pleaded from behind but he continued. "Lowlives like you don't even deserve to step into a place like this, but we were generous to offer you this job..Hell! you can't even walk properly !how come you were hired for this job?" Tears were flowing down my cheeks but he continued . "Alex...please...stop" "No Andrea I will not stop..can't you see what she did.....You are too innocent and generous... you don't know girls like her.....they envy you and when they can't compete against you ,they engage in these dirty tactics .....bloody disgusting people...." I looked up into his . I was never this low. How could he even think I did this deliberately! "Oh my god...your hand..." Andrea said looking at my hand I looked down to see my entire hand turned red with blisters everywhere. I saw my wound and I started feeling the suppressed pain I was controlling. My tears betrayed me because of his words and the pain of my burn. Andrea rushed towards me with a worry. "Maria..bring ..the coolant hurry..we need to call the doctor.." She was something else So pure and caring. My eyes lifted to see Ando His eyes were fixed on my burn but I couldn't tell if he was worried or not. But soon that expression was gone as he turned around and left. I looked at his retreating back wondering ,since when did he become so heartless. Everything is fair in love and war, And this my friends is a war of broken hearts.

The day I announced I was quitting writing, the entire internet celebrated. Everyone except my girlfriend's rumored boyfriend, the famous mystery author, Bryan Vega. In a short video, he looked genuinely regretful. "This is all a misunderstanding. I’ve always admired Kobi’s work, and I hope he’ll come back for the sake of his readers." I turned off my phone and ignored him completely. In my previous life, the web novel I wrote was identical to the mystery novel he published. People online called me a plagiarist and wished death on my whole family. I tried to defend myself, posting my drafts, outlines, and timestamps. Yet, it didn't matter. The last edit timestamp on his document was ten minutes earlier than mine. Just those ten minutes destroyed me. The messages never stopped. Strangers flooded my inbox with insults. Some even showed up at my house and threw paint on the walls. Years of nonstop harassment dragged me into depression. My parents tried to clear my name, but obsessed fans hunted them down and murdered them using methods copied straight from his novel. In the end, on the very day his book won a major award, I sealed my windows and burned charcoal, ending my life. And then, I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day my new book was supposed to be released.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

Syanja eventually made a choice regarding her life after attempting numerous jobs and different careers. She waited for a chance while writing novels. One day, she received an email from a sizable business located distant from her hometown. She quickly accepted their offer and signed the contract with them without any hesitation. She joined that organisation mostly because she wanted to advance her profession and it is the top corporation in the world for authors. Jeong Jung-Hoon, the CEO's younger son, noticed her assisting someone one day. Jung-Hoon was awestruck by her acts and beauty, and his affections for her gradually grew. He was supported in pursuing her by his siblings and friends. They get close and fall in love after a few dates, but Syanja's ex Hyung-Shi returns to her life. He visited her and made an effort to reunite them. Due to their respective occupations, Jung-Hoon was likewise quite busy at work and barely found time to spend with her. They took a step back. Rumors started to circulate. They began to lose faith in one another, went their separate ways, and concentrated on their occupations, but neither of them knew what fate desired. Their love wasn't over after that. They encountered each other again, this time with stronger souls and no love but anger. They had transformed and strengthened their character. They made each other regret everything they had done for one another this time. They made every effort to bring each other down, but it just brought them closer.

"I love you, Nate." My head was bent and I was staring at my feet, nervous like a child who had done something wrong and was waiting to be scolded. The man in my embrace froze. He broke the embrace and took three steps backwards. "We are ending this relationship." I finally heard him say after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Huh,why? I thought I still have a month left?" "Why? you breached the contract, that's why." *********************** Aviva Alexander who has just turned twenty-three crossed paths with the arrogant, dominant CEO of Dove's enterprises, Nathan Lewis. Love at first sight? That's what you may call it in Ava's case. Determined, she chases the hot Nathan Lewis and Nathan who had developed feelings for her gives her the privilege of being his contracted girlfriend after she had seen him break up with Camille that night in the garage. “ I knew you were the one when I saw you at the garage” They're writing their love story but will there ever be an happy ever after when Caryn Jones is hellbent on getting her one-time lover, Nathan? “ I love you Ava, I really do. Everything about you drives me insane... Allow me love you, please. Let me love you tonight, princess.” ” There can be no happy ever after... or maybe there is. ” - Ava & Nate

⚠️ Contains emotionally intense and mature themes. (R 18+) "Look at me, Hazel." Diego approached, his breath burning Hazel's ear. "I only ask for one thing... beg me." Hazel shook her head, her knees trembling. "No... you can't—" Diego smiled faintly, darkly, full of triumph. "If you beg... I will never let you go." Hazel Anne Quinn, 24 years old — a small-time journalist who no one takes seriously. Living a mediocre life, abandoned since birth, and writing erotica as a ghostwriter at night to survive. No one ever wanted Hazel... until Diego Ronan Blake appeared. A senior actor and tycoon at 34, a man who makes the world bow down and causes women to fight to be his. But Diego becomes obsessed with the one woman who avoids him — Hazel's grayish-green eyes, filled with fear yet a hint of defiance, make Diego lose control. For Diego, Hazel isn't a fantasy — she is a necessity. He wants Hazel as his, body and soul, and this obsession drives him to tear down the walls that have protected Hazel, only to rebuild them with himself at the center. Hazel can be afraid, can hate, can resist... but as long as she doesn't beg, Diego will never stop. Because once Hazel gives in — even just once — Diego will never let her go.