I Didn T Ask Novels & Stories

I could choose to ignore it like I’ve been doing this whole time but I couldn’t shake off this feeling that if I don’t ask now there wouldn’t be any other opportunity to ask so I did. “Why did you kiss me back then?” \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

he asked instead. That completely threw me off. I blinked. “What?” I asked. “You said you were struggling,” he continued calmly. “Why didn’t you ask me?” I hesitated. “I didn’t think it was necessary,” I admitted. His grip tightened slightly. “That’s not an answer.”

“I want to—” “I understand that,” I softly hummed. “I’m not asking if you want to do it. I’m asking why you haven’t yet.” He swallowed. There was a hint of surprise in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected me to push further. An uncomfortable knot formed in my stomach. It wasn’t this conversation that made me uneasy, but the fact that I had never asked him about it so directly before. My hands slid from his shoulders down to his arms. “And please don’t tell me this is about a ceremony,” I added. “I know you don’t care much about traditions.”

he asked which caused me to frown, wondering. Why did he ask that? "Why? Shouldn't it be?” I asked. He shook his head. "I just thought you didn't want it because you didn't say anything. You know what, we can tell them that we have something important to go to and just cancel today—”

“You asked her?” “Yes, I did. I had to.” “What did she say?” Ian places my phone at a reasonable distance away from me, in case I'm tempted to steal it to talk to Dre. “Obviously nothing came to mind,” he says. I huff sharply. “So what’s the point of asking her, obviously she wouldn’t have an answer to that.” Ian shakes his head and smiles, like there’s some hidden meaning to what he’s done and I don’t get it yet.

“Because you wouldn't answer me!” “Sorry! I was just lost in though. What did you want to ask me? Or tell me?” “Well. You see-”

I used short sentences to describe my mother. He smiled, “You have asked me if I loved your mother. Have you ever asked your mother a similar question?” I was shocked. I didn’t know what was wrong with Dad today. He asked me such a strange question. I never asked my mother if she loved Dad. In my heart, he was errant, so he was the one who had no affection for his spouse. “You said that your mother was outstanding. Then why do you think she would marry me? A medicare person?” He asked.

"What if I told you it wasn't? What if I told you that that storm did not cause your parent's death, but someone did?" "𝑫𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎?" "𝒀𝒆𝒔, 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈?"

Resolve. I’m tired of the unanswered questions, sick of having life happen to me without having a wind of why or what is happening. I draw a slow, steady breath. I don’t know what will happen to me if I don’t ask him. But I know one thing with terrifying clarity: If I don’t ask now, I never will.

"I just-- I don't know." "Can I ask you something?" I asked, he nodded. I don't know why we suddenly began to talk about this but I feel like we need to in order to feel a little better about it, I guess some stuff was left unsaid or not understood. "Why did you break up with me?"