Goodbye To My Love Novels & Stories

I shakily pressed my lips against Alejandro’s tombstone, knowing that it was the end. “I’ll always love you, Alejandro. I loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you. Ever since we met, ever since you made me your girlfriend, and then later proposed to me and made me your wife. But if you love me as much as I love you… I need you to free me. I need you to set me free from the chains and shackles of my life. So this will be the last time you see me. I needed closure… “Goodbye, Alejandro. Gone… But never forgotten. And I hope that when God decides that it’s my time too, that it’s my turn to die… That I see you again one day in the afterlife. I love you.”

So I'll just let the guitar cry, baby 'Cause there's no good in goodbye, babe. Can't let you see them coming down my eyes. So I'll just let the guitar cry baby.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you had been through. I really am sorry, I…” I interrupted him calmly, “Let’s go.” He didn’t move. “Can we not get a divorce? I’ll make it up to you.” I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “Carter, yesterday I saw embarrassment and anger in your eyes, but not a trace of pity.” I smiled softly. “You have to admit, you don’t love me.” Saying it out loud wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, yet I had been trapped by this truth for so many years.

His thumb—so gentle—brushed away my tears. And he leaned in. Kissed me. Soft. Trembling. Like goodbye. “I love you,” he whispered. And then— He was gone.

So what she had personally burned at every previous stop was their future. Their memories flashed before his eyes, each one delivering a pain so deep it felt like he was being stabbed in the heart. Only now did he realize how deeply he loved her—down to the very marrow of his bones. He could not, and would not, allow her to destroy the last remaining trace of what they'd had. Alessandro tucked the letter into the diary he always carried with him. Then, he ordered his men to flood the area with large quantities of colorless, odorless sedative gas.

She even attached a cute sticker of a little bunny. I just found it laughable. I used to reply to every single one of her messages—I couldn't bear to let her down. But this time, I not only didn't respond. I un-pinned her chat, tossed my phone aside, and went to take a shower. After all, I'd be flying into Hawaii on a private jet tomorrow. For my own solo vacation.

My wife, Sarah, was the executive chef at a renowned Michelin-starred restaurant in town. Her culinary creations were famous across the city, making a reservation nearly impossible to secure. Yet in our ten years of marriage, she had never cooked me a single meal at home. She always claimed that cooking was just her job, and when she came home, she didn’t want to set foot in the kitchen. Naturally, I wanted to visit her restaurant and taste her food. However, every time I brought it up, she insisted that all the tables were fully booked and told me not to make a scene. Everything changed when my mother’s seventieth birthday approached. Half a month in advance, I asked Sarah if she could

I sat on our bed, he packed his suitcase I held a picture of our wedding day His hands were trembling, we both were cryin' He kissed me gently and then he quickly walked away I called up mama and she said "Time will ease your pain Life's about changin' Nothin' ever stays the same" And she said, "How can I help you To say goodbye, it's okay to hurt, and it's okay to cry Come let me hold you and I will try How can I help you to say goodbye"

After leaving the company, my phone buzzed with messages from Monica. [I'll wait for you at the courthouse tomorrow.] [I arranged for a specialist to treat your mom.] [Once we get our marriage certificates, we'll visit her together.] I laughed bitterly and bid her a silent farewell. 'Goodbye, Monica,' I thought to myself. I took my luggage and went straight to the airport. The next day, while I was already gone, she stood at the entrance of the courthouse, her freshly obtained divorce papers still warm in her hand.

In his ears echoed those callous words he had said to me shortly after I gave birth. "At worst, I'll just break up with her. We never got the marriage license anyway." Jeremy and I had been in love for eight years, only for him to marry another woman.