I Have A Confession To Make Song Novels & Stories

But just before he stepped out, he turned again. "You're really okay?" I parted my lips. Suddenly, a thin thread of hope rose inside me. "If I weren't okay… would you stay with me?" He paused—only for a heartbeat—then smiled. "Cammy, don't be ridiculous. Rita's still waiting for me at the hospital. Go to bed early. I'm leaving." The door closed. And I finally broke. I cried for choosing the wrong man. I cried for how foolish I was—still holding out hope for someone who had already shown me the ending.

Evelyn starts, her face turning pale before hardening into immediate fury as she steps forward. "What? But it's the truth…" I spin around to face her, completely cutting her off. I let out a breath, my fists clenched so tightly at my sides that my short fingernails cut deep, painful half-moons into my palms. Staying here for the rest of the holiday break will completely destroy whatever pieces of my sanity I have left. The confidence will just keep chipping away until nothing remains but a hollow shell. "I'm done," I whisper, my voice suddenly dropping into a deadly, freezing quiet that makes Vanessa take a step back.

I refuse to believe that none of it was real. I pick up my iPad and scroll the monumental list of songs we sent one another over the past few months, the jokes, the apologies, the hidden meanings, trying to see the truth behind it all … I stop on a song, pausing my inner anguish with that of confusion as my gaze falls on the unfamiliar. Skylar Grey—“I Know You”. I wonder when he sent this?

I'm trying my best not to trigger my thoughts. They push me to confess my feelings to Adiel but I don’t know if I’m ready for his response. On top of that, I also tried to admit it , a few times? I couldn’t even count how many trials I’ve made. In the end, I’ll always turn to something else or switch my attention to other things due to my intense nervousness. “Hey, guys, Can I substitute for later?” Ivory’s forehead creased when I spoke. “I mean. I’ll sing. Please?”

She confessed. ******************************

I grabbed the microphone and cleared my throat, a mischievous glint in my eye. "I've got a song for you all," I declared, my voice surprisingly steady despite the nerves that threatened to overtake me. The band started playing a slow, melancholic melody, and I began to sing—a love song about heartbreak that seemed to resonate with the pain I had been carrying within me. My voice was unpolished, raw with emotion, but I poured my heart into every word. As I sang, the words spilled out like a confession, a cathartic release of the pent-up emotions that had been festering inside me. The crowd watched in rapt attention, and for a moment, I felt as if I were the center of the universe.

When I got in the car, the driver had the radio on. "You don't mind if I have music on, do you?" "No. I could use the distraction." The radio host was speaking for a while. He wrapped up the topic he was on and said they would go back to the music. Adam Levine's voice began to sing: If I got locked away, And we lost it all today, Tell me honestly, Would you still love me the same? If I showed you my flaws, If I couldn't be strong, Tell me honestly, Would you still love me the same?

He was still in his jeans, his boots, and—Christ—he could taste karaoke regret in the back of his throat. He blinked slowly. Once. Twice. And it hit him. He’d sung to her. Oh hell. He sat up too fast and the room spun, but embarrassment sobered him quicker than black coffee ever could. The song. The love confession. The awful, off-key, drunken mess he’d made of himself. He dragged a hand down his face. What the hell had he been thinking? He wasn’t the guy who said stuff like that. He didn’t do grand gestures, or declarations, or damn near serenade the girl who hadn’t even texted him back.

I cry. Because one confession changes nothing. And everything.