Hopeless Romantic Meaning Novels & Stories

“Let you whisper to him? Let him know you’re still fighting? Let him give you hope?” He smiled slowly, and was cruel. “No, darling. Hope is dangerous. And I’ve worked too hard to keep you hopeless.”

For one terrible second, I thought I'd said too much — then Matteo looked at me with an expression so raw it nearly shattered my composure entirely. "Elena…" "I know," I whispered quickly. "I know it's unrealistic." "That's not why I reacted." "Then why?" A long, painful silence followed before he finally answered. "Because I imagine it too." The confession hollowed me out instantly, not relief, not happiness, but something deeper and far more dangerous, because once two people begin dreaming about impossible futures together, the eventual loss becomes catastrophic. He stepped closer then, one hand lifting gently to my face, and the look in his eyes frightened me. Not because of desire, but

"You love me too. I see it. Feel it. Every time you look at me. Every time you pull away because you're scared of what we are." "What we are is toxic. Doomed. Built on lies and blood." "Maybe. But it's ours. Our disaster. Our mess. And I'd rather have this broken thing with you than perfect emptiness with anyone else." She stood. Walked to him. Their faces inches apart. "If I kiss you now, I won't stop. You know that." "Good." "Hope is ten feet away. James could come back. This is reckless." "When have we ever been careful?"

"Ah, she is one of the authors I handle." "I see. That girl was quite cute. You two are perfect for each other. Do you consider her as your girlfriend?" "Yes, Doc. Do not interfere with my love life, and focus on yours." "Haha, don't worry. I am worried for you because your sister mentions your too hopeless romantic." My damn sisters need to shut up. Who cares if I am a hopeless romantic! Even I kept getting rejected by many girls, and I continued to believe in love no matter what struggles I had experienced in the past. I want a romantic relationship with the one I love, not until I found my Mimo, which I have longed for since I was a child.

"Has it only been that long? Don't you know, the mere sight of you instantly fills me with endless desire? I want you, more than anything else in this world…" His usual sappy, romantic drivel… it all just sounded like cruel mockery, now. Endless desire, huh? Wasn't she only a toy, for practice? Hadn't he had quite enough fun with her yet, over these past five years? She turned aside from an incoming attempt to kiss her. "Is that so?" she murmured coldly. "And what if you were never able to lay your hands upon me, ever again?" At last, Joseph began to realize that something might be amiss. He paused in thought for a moment. "You love me; I love you. We are in love. What could keep us apart?"

That was how I pursued my dreams in the world I loved while yearning to be a part of his. Back then, I would often cup my face with a smile and ask, "Miles, when will you marry me? When will you introduce me to your friends?" Miles would only pat my head and give me a fond smile. He never directly answered my questions, so I always assumed he just wasn't ready to make promises. Until one day, I happened to sit in the booth behind him and his friends where we were separated by a screen. Miles had spoken casually, "I do like her. She's stunning, and I could say she's one in a million. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gone against everyone to carry her into the car back then.

I look up hearing a sigh and see Merlos placing her glass down on a nearby table. “I will never understand this yearning you all have for romance and affection. It all sounds so complex and frustrating,” she says with genuine confusion and mild disgust. “You know they have a word for people like you now.” “Bitch is hardly a new word,” she scoffs. “No, I was going to say aromantic,” I correct her. She looks at me offended, “There is absolutely nothing romantic about me. I detest the very concept.” I shake my head, “There are humans, who – much like you – experience little or no romantic attraction to people. They feel love, but the idea of romance or affection is not of interest to them. They

I do not wish for my bond to control me, to turn me foolishly blind that I would destroy lives others have built for mere flowery feelings that guarantee nothing, despite knowing the havoc I wreak. She was a hopeless romantic: emphasis on the hopeless, and for her love, she would have sold her soul for a happy ending in hell. “You wanted to see me?” He does not hide how my abrupt topic change saddens him, but I do not want to discuss the dead—let them rest. “Yes…I did not think you would return.” “Your son is the persistent kind.” “Are you here by you will?” “Does it matter; I cannot leave.” I answer as I walk to the seat by his bed.

That's some wishful thinking. I sighed. Sometimes, I really wish to be like Kris when it comes to love. Completely unbothered and detached. I was an incurable romantic. I believed in finding the one. Finding the right one and fighting to be with him. I believed in all kinds of crazy shit even though I wasn't a reader. I don't read those glossy romance novels that Kris brings home. Yet, my wishes and desires were cheesy enough to turn them into a story. F*ck, this sucks.