Jealousy Novels & Stories

The name slid out of her like a sigh, full of longing that made Caelum’s teeth clench. Heat snapped through him, irrational and sharp. Jealousy wasn’t new—demons were born in packs of it—but this felt different. It wasn’t the covetous frustration of seeing power he couldn’t match, or status he’d never reach. It was small, sharp, and particular. He wished she hadn’t said his name like that. He wished he hadn’t heard it. The sound lodged under his breastbone like shrapnel, vibrating every time he drew breath.

Alvin muttered under his breath, his voice low and bitter, each word laced with the heat of his jealousy. The question echoed in his mind, filling him with a sense of frustration and helplessness that he couldn’t shake. His pulse quickened, the steady thump of his heartbeat growing erratic as the jealousy tightened its grip on him. Every fiber of his being bristled with the emotions he had kept buried for so long, and now, watching Patricia laugh so effortlessly with Caleb, those feelings surged to the surface, impossible to ignore.

“And since I’m neither of those things, you don’t have any claim over me. Which makes all these irritating actions you keep showing… completely pointless.” And, suddenly, he took a slow step forward, closing just enough distance for his presence to press a little harder into the space between us. “If I told you that I don’t like seeing you with other men especially low-ranked ones, would that change anything?” His stare didn’t waver. “Like I said, I only get mad because I’m seeing how easily you’re able to be comfortable with others. And I thought, I was the only one you were like that with.” “Jealousy,” he said next. “Can show up in different ways, whether it

He scowls. This is trouble. This feeling that's taking him over completely. This feeling that's coursing through his body like a stampede of wild horses. Jealousy. That's what it is. Tenz Jer'sey has something he doesn't. Some mental connection that's so emotional and entangled in their past, he can't compete with that.

Not with him. They looked too comfortable. The laugh came again, light, almost grateful, and something inside me went taut. My hands trembled against my sides. My wolf surged, pressing against my ribs, demanding, restless. MINE. The word wasn’t thought. It was instinct, cutting deep, branding itself into the marrow. Jealousy poured through me like poison. It hollowed my chest, made it hard to breathe. But why!? Why would I be jealous if Riven laughs with another guy?

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

He sighed, but there was no real frustration in it. Just possessiveness wrapped in restraint. We resumed walking, this time closer. His arm slid around my shoulders. Not claiming. Not announcing. Just… holding. And I realized something in that moment. Jealousy, when it comes from insecurity, is ugly. But when it comes from caring quietly… it feels different. He wasn’t afraid of losing me. He just didn’t like sharing the sight of my smile. And strangely, that made my heart beat a little faster.

So she felt extremely heartbroken when she realized they were somehow involved in her parents' death. Leila patted Rui's hands and softly said, “Jealousy is a poison. It consumed her heart to the point that she wanted to compete with you over anything.” Phyllis nodded in agreement. “Just like how you desire to be a loving mother and wife, she desires to be better than you. It's an obsession rooted with malice.”

I felt dull compared to her shine. I watched Elise laugh, throwing her head back. She was touching him too much. Her hand was on his neck. She was pressing her body against his. A sharp, hot spike of something ugly twisted in my gut. Jealousy. I had never felt this with Leon. When Leon cheated, I felt betrayed. I felt sad. But I never felt this burning, possessive urge to march over there and shove a woman away. I have no right to be jealous, I told myself sternly. This is a temporary marriage. He is doing me a favor. He is allowed to have friends. He is allowed to have a life.

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.