I Stopped Loving You Years Ago Novels & Stories

"Why would you hurt Alessandra when you already have everything you need?" Everything I need? Vincent had spent years making sure everyone knew—how Alessandra was the one he loved, how I was just some pathetic woman who couldn’t let go. To hell with everything I need. I didn’t need a damn thing from him. My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palm as I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek. "There is no us anymore, Vincent," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I’m done. I’ve made up my mind. We’re over."

I was taken aback. Years ago when he stopped texting and calling and changed his number, I thought it was because he was over me and had fallen out of love with me. “I still love you Pumpkin. And I want you back”

So he really never loved me. A few drops landed on the screen. I turned off my phone and sat in the dark until late night. Countdown: three hours. I finished packing everything. Countdown: two hours. I cut him out of every photo. The album only had me left. Countdown: one hour. I laid the dissolution agreement neatly on the table. I thought about leaving some words for him. Changed my mind. I could only say it in my heart: "Damon, I loved you for ten years. Loving someone for ten years is hard. But I finally chose to let go."

I ask, and he bats his eyelids in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asks, trying to get up but ends up being pulled back by the chain. "I stopped loving you two years ago, so don't make any silly assumptions. If you don't want me to tell you why I came, then I'll leave!" I stand up. I'm not going to waste my time on him.

The kind that fills your whole chest so fast it almost hurts. I pressed the test against my chest and laughed — the quiet kind, the kind you keep inside your body because it's too new and too fragile to let out yet. Eight years with Daniel Ashford. Eight years of loving a man who moved through the world like it was built for him, and now this. We were going to have a baby.

He groaned, thrusting a little harder as he followed me over the edge, flooding me with thick, hot ropes of cum, filling me until I could feel it leaking out around him. We stayed connected for a long time, just holding each other, breathing together. Then I whispered the words I’d been holding for years. “I never stopped loving you, Jax. Even after you pushed me away. I’ve loved you since I was seventeen.” He went still above me. Then he kissed me — slow, deep, and full of everything he’d been holding back. “I know,” he whispered against my lips. “I’ve loved you longer than I should have. And I’m done fighting it.”

Ophelia Hart had been married to Rowan Cabell for five years. He had been cheating on her for four and a half of those years. His list of mistresses could probably stretch all the way from Merion to Freeka, and the condoms he had gone through could practically wrap around the entire globe. However, Ophelia never made a scene. Whenever Rowan brought another woman to bed, she would quietly prepare a cup of warm water and a box of his favourite lemon-flavored condoms. When they were done, she would calmly arrange for the maid to clean the room. It was all because of the first rule in the Hart family’s code for women—'A husband’s infidelity is never an excuse for anger or confrontation.

I knelt outside Hooper Manor for three days straight before my ex-boyfriend Axel Hooper finally agreed to take me back. Now we're right back to holding hands, kissing, and telling each other how much we love each other. It's as if our breakup never happened. That all changes when Hooper Manor catches fire in the middle of the night. Terrified, I speed all the way back. By the time I get there, flames are lighting up the night sky. Axel comes rushing out in a bathrobe, shielding Rosalie Quade, the fake heiress, as he gets her to safety. Our eyes meet, and without thinking, I raise a hand. I just want to ask if the burn on his shoulder hurts, but he thinks I'm about to go after Rosalie. H

“I have moved on, Adrian. Or I’m trying to.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders tense. “Talk to me. Really talk. No cameras. No tweet. Just us.” Sophia turned back to him. She uncrossed her arms but kept her hands at her sides, fingers twitching. “Fine. You want truth? I stopped loving you 731 days ago. I counted.” Adrian’s face changed. His mouth opened, then closed. He took another step, closinged more of the distance. “731 days? You actually counted the days you stopped loving me?”

Embrace Richard, Treat him like you care, Love rules above all. I almost laughed at the bitterness of it. The day I stopped loving Richard was the day I died listening to him and Claire. What I had left for him now was cold and sharp. What I had for his father was worse, yet Adrian wanted me to smile at the same bloodline that had already destroyed me once. I pressed my bandaged hand against my knee and looked down at it. The cut from the glasshouse had not fully healed because nothing about this second life was healing cleanly.