His Regret, My Light Novels & Stories

“Not because you regret us?” “No regrets,” I say immediately. “None. I just … don’t know how to carry all of this without feeling like I’m about to explode.” “So I’m bad for you?” Her voice breaks. Tears. Fuck. “No,” I say fiercely, cupping her face. “You’re my light. You pull me back every time.” I need to say more. To explain. “Remember the haunted house?” She nods. “That day,” I say quietly, “was the first of March. My —”

I had taken advantage of his endless patience, his unwavering loyalty, his constant understanding. All I could do was cry. The tears came in hot, endless streams, blurring the flashing red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles around me. Remorse, sharp and bitter, filled my mouth like bile. Regret, heavy as a stone, pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

she whispered to herself. After a few blocks, the anger gave way to exhaustion. Her feet ached. The road stretched endlessly ahead. She sighed and muttered, “I’ll just get Cora to drive me back to the car.” That made sense. It made the walk feel like something temporary. But as the minutes passed, regret crept in. The air was colder now. Her hair whipped across her face. The pavement gleamed under the streetlights, still wet from the evening drizzle. Her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to fight the chill.

HIS MERCILESS REVENGE – A new tale of regret Rivansh Raichand – Mrunali Jindal “You know I can choose to end this when the example is in front of me that the fire of vengeance can only leave us in regret and pain and nothing else but this smile on your face burns my heart like anything. You can’t smile when my heart is burning in fire of vengeance.” “I have nothing to say to you, time is the best silent speaker.” *****

Regret flashed in his eyes, and his voice turned urgent. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It's my fault, Mari! I know all of this happened because I was reckless! I won't do it again, so please, forgive me this one time." A wave of helplessness washed over Maria. She was afraid he would lose sight, too. However, she knew Richard would never change. He would always charge ahead on his own. She shook his hand off and looked straight at him. "Do you know how I felt when I sent Eleanor away and watched her pay for what she did? I was not just happy, but I was lost too. If she has paid for what she did, what about you?

"You're not mourning us. You're mourning your bruised ego. You can't stand the fact that someone you considered yours chose to walk away." He looked up at me, and the light in his eyes finally died. "Let's just part ways with some dignity," I said, turning for the stairs. "We both have new lives now." I went up to my room and watched from the window as he walked away. His figure looked so lonely in the fading light. But I felt nothing. The next afternoon, I went to a jewelry store to pick up a custom order. A pair of moonstone bracelets. A gift from Ethan for our Mating Ceremony.

She only smiled foolishly, staring off into the distance in a daze, as though she could see the vision she longed for in the void. "I feel so old now. Standing next to him feels as if we're from two different worlds. I'd never be good enough for him…" She had no idea that those words completely extinguished the last flicker of hope I had deep down. It was only then that I realized I had long become discarded, someone she couldn't even be bothered to give closure to after five years. She never mentioned a word about that drunken night again. And I never brought it up. Given how much she had to drink to black out, it was obvious she got drunk on purpose.

I stumbled back, my hand hitting the doorframe. "I never loved you. I never wanted you. I never regretted losing you." He stepped toward me, his voice cold and deliberate. "The only thing I regretted was not getting what I wanted sooner. You were nothing but a stepping stone, Ymir. A tool. And now that you've outlived your usefulness, I have no more use for you." I stared at him. The man I had loved. The man I had grieved. The man who had knelt in the garden and begged for forgiveness.

I pressed my hand flat against my sternum and stared at Jane's living room wall. Paris. A position at Maison Lumière. My relocation covered. A life that would be entirely, completely, unapologetically mine, built from my own work, in a city that had nothing to do with the Quinlan family or the Hagreeves company or Alexander or Dorothy or any of it. "Yes," I said. The word came out before I had finished deciding and felt right the moment it landed. "Yes. I accept." Clara made a sound that was genuinely delighted and told me someone from Maison Lumière would be in touch within the week and that the competition committee wanted to formally congratulate me and apologize again and I thanked her a

Thirty thousand tiny renditions of my name, woven into the future we’d dreamed of watching sunsets in Valmont. Now, the love that had once burned so fiercely had been shelved away, and the promises he’d made lay broken. I lifted the canvas from the wrecked frame. Then, methodically, I tore it—48 times—until nothing remained but confetti-sized fragments. And one by one, I let them fall into the trash.