Heartbroke Book Novels & Stories

Leaving the boy in pains and tears, with a continually gapping hole, boring through his chest. It was right there and then, that O'Connell knew he had had his first heart break.

He opened the door and stepped out, letting it slam behind him. And just like that, the room felt too quiet. I pressed a hand to my chest as a sharp pain bloomed beneath my ribs, not from the wounds, but from the fracture of something deeper. Not betrayal by an enemy, but heartbreak by blood.

Ivory who had reached into the cracks of me and said: You deserve better. And he was right. I’d spent years enduring. Forgiving. Shrinking myself to make Elliot feel bigger. Now, I was ready to live. Later that evening, over dessert, his voice dropped to something softer, sadder. “I had a sister once,” he said. “She married a bastard. He hit her. She never told me. Just swallowed a bottle of pills and… that was it.” I reached for his hand. “Ivory… I’m so sorry.”

“You just haven’t accepted it yet.” Maybe it was the way Henry said it—that smug, mocking smirk stretching across his face like he’d already won. Maybe it was the way he stood there, tall and looming, in a house we used to fill with love. Or maybe it was the way the air suddenly felt thick, like it didn’t want to be around either of us anymore. I stepped forward and shoved his chest, hard. It wasn’t much. He barely even moved. But it was everything I had—the grief, the betrayal, the helplessness—all channeled into one desperate push.

Over the last eight years, I've watched her come home with different men. Once, Anya stared at me with unusually solemn eyes despite being completely sloshed. "Shane, we belong to two different worlds. Don't fall for me," she slurred. I always thought Anya was a woman who had no idea what love was supposed to be like. Then, I found out a year ago that she had a first love who passed away from an illness. The young man Anya brought home last night actually resembled her dead love. Hence, I was not surprised to see him at breakfast with her.

As if the way I looked at him, the way I melted under his touch, the way I whispered his name like a prayer in the dark… that it was all just part of some manipulative game. A fresh, guttural sob tore through me, so violent it felt like my ribs might crack. I wrapped my arms around my knees, curling into a tight ball on the floor, trying to physically hold the broken pieces of myself together. It felt like he had reached inside my chest, wrapped his fingers around my heart, and just… pulled. The pain was a physical, rending agony. It was a thousand times worse than any ache from last night. That had been a pleasant soreness, a reminder of passion. This was a hollowing out. A void where somet

I was at work when I felt it. You know that one feeling when somebody close to you had died? It felt like a part of me was just torn; not complete at all. Like it would never be complete, ever again. I looked around the bar, trying to control the pain I felt. A broken heart is not a joke at all. I had never cried for anybody before, but this pain I felt in chest made me cave in. Erika was making one of the customer’s drinks when she turned my way. I wiped the tears from my eyes and continued working, not even glancing at her.

Sitting up, my pulse quickens. Calum wrote me back. My baby replied. I can’t see the content of the email from the notification bar, but the subject is the same as what I’ve been using: Letters to my love. My fingers tremble as I tap on the email. God, please. Just this one thing. But God has forsaken me. What is heartbreak? Heartbreak is nineteen words from the boyfriend you haven’t heard from in over a month. As I reread the content of Calum’s email, I know I’ll never be the same again.

The third one, which is about Malvika, would be published after Broken Hearts. Don't forget to vote and leave positive reviews. Also, do well to share this book with your friends and the people you know. Thanks for reading. Xoxo❤️

Oftentimes it broke on its own, other times it had been shattered: through carelessness or cruelty, and thrown against the wall, it had left stains, almost like the gray one above her bed. But on this winter morning Helen's heart didn't just break: it disintegrated to its elements, and that’s the worst heartbreak of all. Deep inside the chest, atomising hearts leave a void, as hostile to life as the desert. The painful thing isn't even the moment they’re destroyed. It is not the sudden sting as they fall apart, but the creeping, everlasting agony thereafter. Atomising hearts dissolve into a zillion parts, so tiny that they are invisible. So intangible that they can never be rejoined, and th