Novel & Cerita Jealousy

Parker looked to see that the guys had paused their games. And to know, they say jealousy is produced by the fear that the loved person prefers someone else.

“Thanks to your spoiled attitude, you caused your mother to die and yet you haven't changed. You're still causing trouble and now Shawn has to clean up your mess.” “Funny,” Jade chortled, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You think that'd get to me? Well, all I see is an envious whiny little kitten who has watched me get everything she's ever wanted without lifting a finger. I bet you're still traumatized from all the disappointed gazes from Daddy and Mommy as they ask you whether I have two heads. I may be a spoiled little brat who causes trouble wherever I go but at least I am not a goody-two-shoes who spends her life pining for her father's love but gets nothing all because ‘a girl child

Maybe even too much. Heitor let out a bitter laugh. The kind that hurts more than any cry. “That phase is over. It’s unbearable, Alex. She has fits of jealousy almost every day. Last week she made me sleep on the couch because a resident called me a “cute doctor” in the elevator.” I took a long sip. It burned in my throat, but it wasn’t enough to erase the discomfort. “Jealousy is not love,” I murmured. “It’s insecurity disguised as possession.”

"I should have thought of it. Who else would accept you if not for this pathetic being? Who else would be desperate enough to" "Research says," Adrian interrupted, his voice dangerously calm, "that people who are jealous of others only do so when they seemingly cannot achieve what the ones they're jealous of have achieved." Pretzel's smile faltered. "Jealous? Of her?" She gestured at me with a dismissive wave of her hand. "What exactly does this scoundrel have that I could ever want? What has she ever had that has ever gained my attention? Nothing. She's a good for nothing. She's always been a good for nothing. She couldn't keep a man, she couldn't build a career, she couldn't—"

"I never thought I'd say this, but your jealousy is hot. It bothers you that I may have been with her." She drew in a slow breath and exhaled. "Jealousy is not hot. It's a cover up for lack of confidence." Which she'd never had before. How unbecoming. And all over a ten second glance from halfway across the room. "I don't know what's wrong with me." For all she knew, Veronica was happily married. Or a lesbian. Or asexual.

It wasn’t jealousy. It was disgust.

Alli stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. She didn't blink, didn't move, holding her breath until her lungs burned and her head swam. Inside, her insides twistedinto a hard, tight knot of something hot and ugly. It wasn't heartbreak—not exactly, not yet. It was something messier, something more primal. It was the choking, humiliating twist of jealousy, sharp enough to make her want to smash a beer bottle against the wall, scream until her throat was raw and bleeding, and then

The word 'friend', as used by her, seemed to mock me, stoking the embers of jealousy I was struggling to douse. Jealousy. It was an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time, an emotion I thought I had outgrown. Yet, it had crept up on me, a stealthy predator pouncing when I least expected it. I was jealous of Tony, of his closeness with Rima, of the trust she placed in him.

I shouted. And there it was again. This time I failed to hide it. Delusional jealousy took over when the image of other females being around him swelled to the point of unfamiliar obsession. Was this me now? Someone who acted irrationally and fanatically because the body got overflowed by weird stress hormones? "Are you jealous?" To my great horror, he noticed that too. "No." I lied. I lied tremendously. "Go away, Aiden. I have nothing to say to you."

"He’s the strongest of them all. And the most handsome.” “I’d still let him do whatever he likes with me—” I clench my teeth as Jealousy flares sharp and ugly in my chest, catching me off guard. Not desire—never that. Something darker. Something possessive. The idea of them whispering about him, imagining him, claiming him in fantasies— It makes my skin itch. I hate myself for it. I don’t know this man. I don’t care about this man. I don’t fall for names whispered in gossip circles like some foolish girl with stars in her eyes.