How To Make Her Miss You Novels & Stories

I closed my eyes, imagining her beside me, her hand intertwined with mine as we strolled through the garden together. But as quickly as the illusion had come, it faded away, leaving me with the reality of her absence. The pain felt raw, an ache that I couldn't seem to shake. I leaned against a marble statue, feeling the cold stone against my back. I looked up at the sky, the stars beginning to twinkle as night descended. "I miss you, Emily," I whispered, my voice carrying my longing to the night sky. The silence seemed to echo my sentiment, a quiet acknowledgment of the love that still bound us together.

My stomach broke into a full-blown gymnastics choreography, doing a thousand flips per hour, and just to be sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, I read it again. Yeah, it was there. Toby, my mate, just announced that he missed me, and I was out of my mind. I couldn’t wipe the burn on my face as I turned to lie on my stomach, swinging my legs behind me. Okay, how does one reply to ‘I miss you’? The obvious would be to say it back, but that was rather boring. I do miss him, but I wanted to show him that I do, and it was only one thing I could think of.

Clearing my throat, I decided to let it go and just ask her how she has been all those years and that was the first time she laughed. “How have I been?” She asked before she stopped laughing abruptly, “I don’t know but taking a look at me should’ve given you an answer to your question.” She hissed as she turned to continue shopping. I knew she would’ve missed me too and I also knew it would take a toll on her but what do I do? How do I make up for all those times lost? “I missed you.” I finally said after a while of silence, my voice breaking as I took a step towards her.

I was so ready to just let it all go and make up with her, cause the heavens know just how much I’ve missed her! I missed her. I missed her so much that I was craving to take her in my arms. The desire to hug her to myself and not let go was too strong. So much that I found myself separating her interlocked hands on my waist in the spur of the moment just so I could hug her properly.

com SUBJECT: REPLY Hi Dad, I miss you. I love you. Can you please reply? *** She then hit the send button quickly and slipped her phone into her pajama pocket. As if guilty of doing something wrong, she bolted out of the bedroom with her lips pursed. She was upset, but she dared not cry.

"What do you mean by that?" "Exactly what I said," she replied. "I haven't seen him for about two days now so I don't know." "Why haven't you seen him?" I probed, trying to keep my cool. "You do know that our lives are riding on this right?" "Calm down," she laughed. "Of course, I know that our lives are riding on this. That's why I'm teaching him a little thirst." "What?" "I want him to miss me," she explained. "If I'm always there around him, I'll be easily taken for granted. That's why I want to make myself scarce sometimes. I want him to want me."

I asked, trying to clear the visions from my brain that were already causing an erection to come to life. “I missed you,” she pouted playfully. I grinned. “Me? How could you miss me?” She giggled softly. “I don’t know. I missed the way you smelled, breathed, looked.” “Did you now?” “I did. Or do, I’m not sure.” “Have a seat. I’ve got a couple minutes to spare. I’d hate to have a lonely woman out there.” “I don’t want to keep you.”

I just stare at the cup, her words echoing in my head. Tell her you miss her. Tell her you’re not okay. Tell her you still love her—even if you can’t say it yet. I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. But I know I’ll never stop trying to find my way back to her.

She said she loved me. “I want to love you freely, without all these secrets. I want to come to your home or your place and not have to make up excuses. I want to be able to touch you, hold your hand, without worrying about who’s watching. I want us to be us. I miss you.”

“God, I miss you, Quinn.” “You’re working this weekend, aren’t you?” “I am.” “I have to go over a week before I can see you again?” she blurts, and I can tell she immediately feels bad. “It’s fine. I’ll send you naughty pictures. We can FaceTime, and I found a website that does the casting to make your penis into a sparkly dildo.” “Well, now I know what to get you for your birthday.”