Goodbye Are Bittersweet Artinya Novels & Stories

Another message from Claire came through. "Did you see Ryan's post? He's trying to hit 999 likes as a challenge. Enzo, go give him a like too." I ignored it. Five minutes later, she sent a few more. "No reply? Did you fall asleep?" "Alright then. Get some rest early." "Don't forget to run yourself a hot bath before bed—I know you like it when the water's nice and hot. Take care of yourself." "Love you, hubby." She even attached a cute sticker of a little bunny.

"My child... You've been through so much..." I used to dream of her hugs, but at that moment, I just stepped back a little and said without much feeling. "Thanks for caring." She paused, her arms still out. Summer looked at me with her amber eyes, not bothering to say any nice words. The next moment, she started crying quietly and spoke in a sweet voice.

At that moment, I could only find it laughable. I took off the ring and tossed it into the trash can. “Sorry, this ten-dollar piece of junk should’ve been thrown away long ago.” I smiled even brighter. “Now, can we go?” Getting the divorce certificate felt like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t realize that what I once thought was deep love in my youth had turned into a burden. Misunderstanding after misunderstanding had slowly eroded that love, replacing it with endless torment.

Because that's the way it is, when you give too much, then you will feel how to lose. They say goodbyes are made to finish things that must come to an end. So when you left, I thought— which part of our love should we lose? or maybe it was completely gone before the goodbye came? We are fine. There is no problem. We didn't fight, we didn't argue, we didn't even talk about everything that could be an obstacle for us. But where are we now? They are wrong. Maybe, it is more correct to say that the farewell is done to finish the things that were finished before.

By the roadside trash cans were our shattered wedding portrait, the scarf she had knitted for me by hand, and every album that held memories of us. My phone suddenly rang. I looked at the contact name and answered. Mrs. Grant's excited voice came through. "Julian, I just got Vivian's physical report. The doctor said her memory is loosening. "If she keeps receiving treatment, there is an eighty percent chance she can recover!" My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. The word okay reached my lips, but I could not say it. In the end, I said softly, "Mom, let's stop the treatment. If she's forgotten, then let her forget."

His eyes held mine, filled with a fragile hope. My heart raced, and I bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "You'll get your reward when you're better." His eyes sparkled, suddenly alive with light, as if I had given him a sky full of stars. "Deal," he whispered. I stepped back, watching him through the glass, lying there still yet so full of fight. Just like that, my battered heart began to heal.

If I'm not careful, I wet myself. "I lost my husband and my child for three whole years. Again and again, I had to endure that humiliation. Don't you think I have the right to hate you? "Do you honestly think a few words of regret are enough for me to forgive you?" His eyes were bloodshot. He opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but no words came out. Seeing him standing there in a daze, I let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Stop bothering me." I glanced down at the mess on myself, then turned to leave.

Lucas watched them, a shell of himself, as I laid the divorce papers before him again. "Sign these soon, then we'll pick a date to make it official." His voice shook. "This is our home. Where will you go? I can't bear to lose you, I was wrong, I ignored you..." His words washed over me, leaving no mark as I wheeled my suitcase out the door. "Harriet, I love you. I can't stand to be apart from you..." Lucas was a mess, tears choking his words. The lead mover shot us a sympathetic look before hurrying off to his truck.

she read the painter's signature on the bottom side of the canvas. Her gaze turning onto the wood's description below the painting. “Happy Sad Ending, RI from German,” she read the title of the painting. 'Oh, he is not local painter, he come from oversea,' Jane thought while read the word German. 'Happy Sad Ending — The farewell is a common thing that always comes as a couple of the meeting. Sometimes you have to end the meeting and saying farewell to someone that made you happy, but you have to let it go for their future happiness or your future happiness.'

What mattered to me was that he gave everything I wanted to Michelle. Maybe before that night, I would have been moved by his gesture, but now, looking at Ryan, all I could think of were those words: “Late affection is as meaningless as a fleeting trend. If you don't act when it counts, it loses its relevance later on.” … I looked at him, offering a cold smile. “Mr. Patel, that’s all in the past now.” When old flames meet, I couldn’t pretend to be friends after a breakup, nor could I bury the past.