Jealousy Is The Root Of All Evil Novels & Stories

The third time—when her gaze lingered just a second too long, I felt something snap. Jealousy is an ugly thing. It doesn’t announce itself politely. It doesn’t wait to be understood. It hits fast, sharp, and without regard for context or reason. And it doesn’t care how old you are or how disciplined you’ve trained yourself to be. All it cares about is possession.

He had imagined that something might happen and he could predict the kind of conversation that might have taken place but to actually see Vevina jealous was something that he hadn’t estimated. It was a good surprise. “Are you perhaps jealous?” he asked, chuckling and getting up as he watched Vevina freeze before him. She didn’t like what she had heard. Jealous? Why would she be jealous? “Aren’t you becoming a little too bold in your assumptions?” Vevina asked, hating the word. Her mother had been jealous all her life of the women that her father brought. Jealousy was therefore an emotion of weakness in her eyes. Something that was as disgusting and far crueler than simply killing people. It

He painted every day with mother and he was always so talented. Jane leapt from her chair because of what Lowis had just said. Between those two, it wasn't a love story. Daily, they were spoiling for each other... Well, Jane was looking for Lowis, and Lowis avoided her as much as possible. Once, when we were at the library, Lowis confided to me that Jane was a person who could be jealous sometimes. Not knowing what that meant, I asked Angela to explain it to me, and she told me that jealousy was a feeling of envy towards a someone else who had something that you didn't have and would like to have. In most cases, the jealous person felt hostility, spite or bitterness towards that person. Was

"The Goddess gives each wolf one mate. One. Not three. When bonds are shared like this, it creates imbalance." "We didn't choose this." "Maybe not. But you can choose what you do about it." Looking at her, I asked, "What are you saying?" "I'm saying your jealousy isn't weakness. It's instinct. Your possessiveness isn't wrong. Have you thought about the future? Really thought about it? Children. When she gets pregnant—and she will—whose child will it be?" The question hit hard. I hadn't let myself think about it. Hadn't let myself imagine—

She reasons. “I care little for power and certainly wouldn’t overlord my mother if I had more than she did.” I pout. “I don’t see how my ignorance helps her. Really it’s harmful to her.” “Logic has no place among jealousy.” Theia comments. “Jealous? Of me? Ha!” I cry. “Power corrupts. The fear of losing it. The desire to capture it. Whether you wield it as a scourge or a shield.” My guardian shrugs.

It doesn't come in colors but waves. Doesn't know reason but desire. Doesn't care the method but the result. Not from Allah but shaytwaan. It is the green-eyed monster. Jealous, envy if you may call it that. It's more about why not mine, why someone else's. Why does someone possess something? Why don’t I? ~Humeyra THIRD PERSON'S P.O.V

Kael’s POV Jealousy and greed are like poisons that twist people into doing shit they never thought they’d do. Mix them together, and it’s the worst kind of hell a man can feel. They don’t always leave marks on the body, but damn, they carve up your mind and soul until you’re bleeding inside, raw and empty. My soul got scarred by that combo a long time ago, and it wasn’t my fault. Put anyone in my shoes, and they’d crack the same way. All my life, I’d been measured against Leon and compared every damn time.

It left me clean and shaky and angrier than before. Jealousy is hunger with a smart mouth. It tells me to bite my way back to his attention. It tells me to walk into his war room and put my throat in his hand and remind him I am the promise that bleeds the same. It tells me to get loud. He hates when I get loud when the pack can hear; it makes him a man instead of a myth and he hates being the only man in front of those who need him to be weather.

Jealousy came first. He had no word for it, had never needed one, had never had occasion to develop the concept because the concept required the possibility of someone wanting what was yours and taking it, and nothing in Eden had ever been structured around that possibility. But his body knew it instinctively, the cold-hot rush of it, the specific sick quality of recognizing a thing that should not have happened and knowing it had happened and knowing he could not unmake it. Rage came second.

She was everything I wasn't. And me? I was the girl with a blind and dull right eye. People flinched when they looked into it. There was no security camera in that corner, so I took the blame. Even my own mother looked at me with disgust. "Sienna, she's your sister. How could you hate her so much?"