Hate That Mga Nobela at Kwento

, I say in a voice that is nothing more than a whisper, a voice that comes from somewhere inside me I had never explored, a child's voice, a voice that is afraid, a voice that hurts, a voice that hopes, a voice that believes, a voice that loves, a voice that says "I hated you, Mom, I hated you, I hated you so strongly, for so long, so deeply, that I forgot who I was, where I came from, where I was going, what I wanted, what I hoped for, what I believed, what I loved, I hated you for having abandoned me, left me, forgotten me, I hated you for not coming back, for not having looked for me, for not having found me, for not having loved me, I hated you for leaving me with Sabrina, with that woma

Things were different now. The anger and hatred seething in my heart were relentless, consuming every corner of my being like a fire that refused to die down. It wasn’t just a fleeting emotion; it was a storm brewing within me, dark and unyielding, pushing aside any remnants of the person I used to be. Each thought of her and what had transpired stoked the flames further, feeding a bitterness that felt as if it had been etched into my very soul. It was an unbearable heaviness, pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe. The hate wasn’t just directed outward—it was a reflection of the betrayal, the humiliation, and the helplessness I had endured.

That’s good for me. I don’t mean that in any noble sense, I mean it in calculus. People who hate are predictable. Hate simplifies motive; it sharpens action and dulls strategy. Where professionals plan three moves ahead, furious amateurs charge blind. They mistake heat for planning; they mistake impulse for courage. Cassandra’s hatred makes her an asset if I can steer it.

she continued her sarcastic, disgusted remarks. "Do you hate me that much that you can not believe any of the words I say to you? You hate me that much?" Bella's lips twisted in hatred and loathing, "Hate is just a very small word in front of what I feel for you. In fact, you know what? I don't even feel hate because to hate you, I will have to feel for you which I had given up on years ago. So now you are nothing to me. Not even someone I would hate."

CYRUS KAYE P.O.V We stayed in that position for a long time, Mom held me tightly also not letting go. Gradually she released me, Tears slipping from her eyes, she smiled at me; her happy expression was enough to cure me of all the age long hatred. Giving way for her love “I am sorry, I spoke to you that way. I always thought you did not want me.” “Ohh darling. You are not in the wrong for hating me. I was to blame for that. I put my career above your well-being; even my marriage is in shambles because of it.”

I growled, staring deep into his eyes, giving him a choice to hate me or love me. . . . Ray's P. O. V Hate me... The word resounded me in my ears a thousand times. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't see myself hating her. It was impossible. " I can't..." I muttered, still looking at her. " What did you say?" She asks me, her voice coming out as a whisper. " I can't.... Do it..... I can't hate you. I don't know how to." I said again, strongly this time, begging and hoping she'll understand. Then all of a sudden, she started hitting me in every place that was available.

I don't hate; it's too stressful an emotion and would take more out of me than the recipient. But what I feel for Ricci and now his friends is something much darker. There is no emotion attached, so no chance of mercy or compassion for anyone involved; hate is an emotion, a bad one, but one, nonetheless. What I feel could be best described as inhuman, animalistic, primal. It's crossed all boundaries between the light and the dark.

"Because he doesn't care what happens to me. He's hated me since the first day we met. Whether my father beats me... or kills me — it makes no difference to him." His face darkened as he gently took my hand in his wrinkled palm. "Oh, my poor girl... does your husband hurt you too?" "No... he's never laid a hand on me — and for that, I'm grateful. I can endure the hatred... but both of them together would be too much." "Why does your husband feel this way about you?" I hesitated, my voice breaking. "Because... he thinks I'm a bad person. And... the more time passes, the more I start to believe he's right. Maybe I deserve all of this."

They would hate my child just because I’m its mother? "So, what if my child has my blood running in its veins? That makes my child unworthy of being accepted by you?” My voice cracks as hot, angry tears fill my eyes. “I have done nothing to you, absolutely nothing, and you hate me simply because of the color of my skin.” I shake my head in disgust. “You plan to apply that hatred to my child as well, even though they will be related to you. It's sad you guys have such a mentality in this day and age."

The four words almost seemed to have been squeezed out of his throat with a tremble. She said, "I don't hate you, and I don't want to hate you. Hate is a very hurtful feeling. It was nice being in love with you. I don't want to add hatred to it. Between love and career, you chose the latter. That’s all you did.”