Romans & histoires I Would Have Waited 500 More Years

she whispered into the darkness. "Tomorrow we end this war," I replied. "What if we do not? What if The Covenant wins?" "Then we regroup and try again. And keep trying until we do win. Because giving up is not an option." "Seventy five years," Mary said softly. "That is what we promised each other." "Seventy five years minimum. I am thinking we should extend that to a hundred." She laughed quietly. "A hundred years with you sounds perfect." "Then let us make sure we both survive tomorrow to start counting those years."

“Diana, don’t do this to me. I only have you and Miracle. Please, I can’t lose you two from me. We were about to get married and build our own family. Diana, don’t do it to me, please.” “Believe me, I don’t want to do this either, but we’ve been together for more than five years and in our more than five years together I still can’t love you—” “I’ll wait, Diana.” he almost raised his voice, but he restrained himself. “Like I told you, I will wait until you love me. Even if it takes ten years or even with my last breath, I will wait for you to love me, Diana. I can wait forever, but I can’t lose you from me.”

Every nerve ending was screaming at me to stop thinking and just feel. But my brain, my stupid, overthinking brain was throwing up caution signs. "I want to," I admitted. "I really want to, but…" "But you're not ready." He pulled back slightly, giving me space. "It's okay. I can wait." "You're not mad?" "Mad?" He laughed softly. "Elena, I've waited five years. I can wait a little longer." "What if I'm never ready?" "Then we'll figure it out." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "But something tells me you will be. Soon."

“A Queen who has not settled her past is not a ruler. She is a fugitive wearing a crown.” Something inside me stilled. I gave a slow nod. “Five days,” I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. Older. Like it belonged to someone who had already died once. “I need five days to finish what I started. Then I will come back.” He exhaled slowly, as if that answer alone eased something heavy in his chest. “Five days,” he repeated. “We have waited twenty-four years. We can wait five more.” His hand lifted slightly, trembling as he gestured toward the door.

"But I never settled. Never bonded with someone just because they were convenient or available. I knew my true mate was out there somewhere. I just had to be patient." "And you waited. For me. For over two hundred years." "Every day." He tilts my face up. "Every single day I waited. Hoped. Believed that eventually the Fates would bring you to me. And they did. You walked into my classroom and my entire world shifted. Everything I'd been waiting for. Right there." Tears prick my eyes. "I'm Nineteen, Adrian. You waited two hundred years for someone who's barely lived a quarter century. Don't you think that's... I don't know. Unfair? That you deserve someone closer to your age? Your experience

“But I knew I wouldn’t. Because you weren’t ready.” The words hit harder than I expect. Five years. For five years he still held on. For five years he was waiting for me to want this, to see this, to see him. My throat tightens. “I should have been better.” “You were doing what you knew, Kade.”

Until now, I didn't know who killed her. I spent 10,000 years waiting for her to come back to life, and I don't mind waiting another 10,000 years. Elizabeth, just stay with me to wait. If I never see my beloved, I will never let you see yours either. Let us wait together in pain.

“But, I didn't believe them. I told them, and everyone that was ready to listen that you were not dead. The Leah I know would never die so easily. So I waited, I waited for days. And days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. And months into years…” he stopped himself as his voice shook slightly at his last words. His eyes bled with so many emotions that they pierced deep into my chest, taking my heart out of my rib cage and squeezing it painfully tight. “Five years, Leah. That was how long I waited. And how long it took you to come back to me,” he whispered.

I look out at the Surrey estate, at the five years of it, at the London skyline visible on clear days from the upper windows, and think about the quality of patience that isn't resignation but accumulation—the patience of someone not waiting for an opportunity but building toward one. Five more years. Ten, if necessary. I've waited longer for lesser things.