I Pick Up This Broken Pieces Novels & Stories

Her breath caught. “But breaking doesn’t always mean ending,” I continued, my voice gentler now, steadier as I managed to sniff in my snort. “Sometimes it just means we come back… differently.” She stared at me like she was trying to hold onto every word, like they might slip away if she didn’t. “There’s a saying,” I added, reaching up to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb lingering there for just a second, “pieces broken beyond repair that come back together can’t be broken again.”

Stooping down, I tried to gather the scattered pieces of memory I had managed to capture. My hands trembled as I picked up the fractured remains-the ID card, the wig, and worst of all, the broken fragments of my camera. Each piece cut like glass in my palms, sharp reminders of everything that had just unfolded.

Because based on his advices, he seems to be an expert in the problem I am facing. "I don't think you can win her back. Remember this Del Mundo, not everything that breaks is restored. Cianna's fragile, and you know that fragile should be handled with care because once it's broken, it can't be repaired. Glasses, vases and other fragile materials—ike this. . ." "What the h*ll!" I screamed after he dropped the glass he was holding. "Look at that glass, I broke it. Now, let me fix it." He knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of glass one by one.

Perhaps I looked too calm. I was so calm that Josie couldn't ignore me. Her eyes kept drifting back to me. When it was her turn to take the stage, she dragged Alex along. She was smiling brightly. "The reason I'm standing here today is because of my brother. During the earthquake years ago, he was abandoned and missed his chance to be rescued. Although he survived, he was never able to live like a normal person. "I'm grateful that I became a doctor and was able to achieve this medical breakthrough!"

Thank the Gods that I don’t have to go through that hell anymore. I just didn’t care about anyone anymore and slowly they all forgot about me. That’s fine. I may be a broken mess but I’m still here. Still painting my heart out. But in my gut, I know I could and should do better. I always feel like there is more. Like I am only seeing the cover of my own book. I just don’t know how to open it.

The mirror invites Perci to see his soul and the condition of his heart, to look past physical features. He sees nothing but a man in his 40's, single and broken. 'I wish I had not met you again.' He broke the mirror; it was the last mirror in his room because the rest is broken. A crack runs across the glass, finding the weaknesses that were once small. From a perfect mirror to something that is unrecognizable. He watches each fragment fly outward until they lie still yet vicious on the Marmol floor. Breaking glass has become his art and comfort. There is nothing more broken than his heart. Those fragments are nothing compared to his heart. He watched them shatter and release just a fragmen

Everyone of us is broken in one way or the other. We just find a way, a thing or a person that glues us together. And sometimes, we don’t even find that so we learn to live with our broken parts and wait for that day when they will stop hurting. ~ A. Gupta Violet

The pack moving forward as though I had never mattered. They didn’t deserve happiness. The thought came sharp and unfiltered, and I didn’t fight it. Not today. They had taken too much from me. They had crowned themselves righteous. If their happiness was built on my ruin, then it was fragile. Still, I moved. I lifted my chin and continued down the hallway, nodding politely at those who passed me, responding when spoken to, playing the role expected of me. The broken princess. The quiet girl who had returned defeated.

But Calvin’s presence was reminding her of something she had nearly forgotten: Love did not have to be naïve. Trust did not have to be blind. And hope — fragile as it felt — was not weakness. It was strength choosing to risk again. She walked to the mirror, studying her reflection. No longer the woman shattered by headlines. No longer the woman building walls out of fear. But a woman who had survived — and was daring to feel again. Her phone vibrated softly. Calvin: “Goodnight, Mia. Thank you for today.” She smiled before replying. Mia: “Goodnight, Calvin.”

Something broken, fragile. Something I had ruined.