Historia Triste Novels & Stories

Matteo gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, this time” he said without elaborating. “He told me he had trouble with alcohol and drugs when he was with Lisa” “Well he’s had trouble with alcohol since he was with Lisa, he had relapses every so often. He had been good since you guys got together, but this was obviously a big trigger for him.” Matteo explained. “It’s all my fault. I should have snapped out of it sooner” “No, Harper, it’s not your fault. How Gabriel choses to deal with his stress is his own fault. You are not to blame for this, do you hear me?” Matteo asked.

She had touched the same brown newspaper I'm touching now. She had told me to look closely and I'll see how approximately 2200 lives were lost due to the woeful mistakes of the rich who lost nothing but money and said 'ops' for the destruction that set on the poor. Every historic tale Mom told revolved around the oppression of the cruel rich and the helpless poor. Such museums are proof that history repeats itself. To this day, the same cycle is being repeated and we all are still damn hypocrites. "Never become cruel, Plinio," Mom had once advised me. But that's what I have become today. Cruel to the weak, cruel to myself, and left with no choice.

“It’s been a long day.” Greg studied her for a moment. His gaze wasn’t invasive, but perceptive like he saw more than she wanted him to. “Don’t let him get in your head,” he said finally. Jane blinked. “What?” “Chris.” His voice was calm, but his jaw clenched slightly. “He’s good at rewriting history when it suits him.” Jane looked down at her hands. “People… change.” “Maybe,” Greg replied, “but pain doesn’t just disappear because they say sorry. You survived him, Jane. Don’t forget that.”

Her smile bloomed the moment her gaze found me, sweet and radiant, almost enough to make you forget the grief woven into her history. I had heard the stories. Everyone had. Two sons gone—Tristan’s elder brothers—fallen in the pack war seventeen years ago. The same bloody war that had stolen my mother from me. I never knew them, not truly, since I was just an infant, but I’d pieced them together through Tristan’s stories—brave men, loyal and loving, the kind of brothers whose absence carves a permanent hollow. I’d seen the way Tristan’s voice softened whenever he spoke of them, how his expression carried a shadow of both pride and sorrow. And if that was only Tristan’s reflection of them, the

Tears welled up in Lordes’ eyes. Sympathy was evident in Celeste’s eyes as she looked at her with deep emotion. She began her story. “When Jun and I heard about the deaths of Madam Celia and Sir Tristan, it felt like our world had collapsed. We couldn’t believe they were taken so suddenly—such a brutal accident, falling into a deep ravine. We couldn’t accept it. We wanted to be there to support you at their wake, but what did your so-called husband and in-laws do? They wouldn’t even let us step foot in your mansion or see the Costa couple who treated our family like their own!”

" Alice seemed to have lost her mind. Right now, it seemed that she wanted to take everyone down with her. "With a cold-hearted mother, a useless father, and a disgusting lover… Honestly, isn't Vanessa better off dead?"

Argh .... Andien punched the metal guardrail as she shouted angrily. "I hate you, Kenan. I hate you!" Andien screamed again while the sea water began to wet parts of her body as she chose to sit on the bridge that people said was called the bridge of love. It had only been 12 hours since Andien had received Kenan's sacred vows but Andien felt that she was already a widow. Andien tried to hold back her sobs as the tears continued to flow.

It was a complete difference from when Isabel stepped into Lucian's palace and was eventually rejected, painfully. Ilyana often shared tales of the empire's rich history, recounting its challenges and triumphs with a touch of nostalgia and pride. She spoke of the struggles faced by her ancestors, the wars fought and won, and the peace they had strived to maintain. Her stories were filled with the responsibility and the deep love she felt for her people. Isabel listened attentively, soaking in the stories of a world that felt both distant and intriguing.