Letters From A Broken Heart Novels & Stories

~So, please don't break my heart Don't tear me apart I know how it starts Trust me, I've been broken before Don't break me again I am delicate Please, don't break my heart Trust me, I've been broken before~ -What if Uno once day, decided to break my heart? Would it hurt as much as what Rico made me feel? ~I've been broken, yeah I know how it feels To be open And then find out your love isn't real I'm still hurting, yeah I'm hurting inside I'm so scared to fall in love, but if it's you, then I'll try~

The thing about heartbreak was you can’t see anyone other than the person that had hurt you. You can’t see how someone else looks at you because you’re blinded by the pain and betrayal from the past. You looked at everyone like they’re out to get you. Life becomes a series of black and white. Right and wrong. Good and bad. It’s bleak, lonely, and sad. Laughter becomes fleeting and happiness seems nonexistent. And though you appreciate the company and support the wound was still there. Someone may fill up the gap but it doesn’t heal the wound from the past.

The letter had cracked open the fortress I had built around my heart, and now I was left standing in the rubble, unsure of what to do next. I knew I couldn’t make any decisions right now. I needed to clear my head, to find some distance from the storm of emotions raging inside me. I needed to talk to someone—someone who wasn’t Ethan, someone who knew me well enough to help me make sense of it all. The thought filled me with dread, but I knew I couldn’t keep this from Lily. I had to be honest with her, to share what I had learned. If we were going to find a way forward, we needed to do it together.

Write back if you want, of course I'll understand if you don't. I love you, Liza McClain. You're always on my mind. Yours, Nicole (Brody) Black By the time I finished reading my EX girlfriend's letter, I was curled up on the floor sobbing uncontrollably. I could faintly hear Pandora playing "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" by Elton John as I unleashed everything I'd been holding in. My heart broke for Ceen and her rapidly deteriorating mental health, I couldn't handle the guilt from not being able to come clean to Vasha, and now my EX was finally giving me the reason for ending things that I'd been looking for.

I pulled up the video from that online post and showed it to her. Sophia's face turned pale, and she was left speechless. Eventually, she lowered her head and turned to leave, but then she stopped at the door. "Would you believe me if I told you that I never understood how much you meant to me until I lost you?" "It doesn't matter anymore, Sophia. Whatever I felt for you is already gone." Just after I closed the door, the noise came from outside my bedroom. Samantha Carter poked her head out, hair tousled and eyes sleepy. "I can smell the food," she murmured.

Do you know who had the motive to make you look bad? Victor. Or Mateo? The answer hits before I can say it out loud. “Thanks, Eli,” I say. “I’m really grateful. Be careful getting home.” I stand up and take my leave to go to my apartment. ~~~ I go home, lock the door, and sit on the edge of the bed, feeling devastated. The city sounds outside are muffled but distant. I feel cold… with goosebumps on my skin. At 7:10 AM my phone buzzes. It's an unknown number again. Just aware that it's Remy’s.

It began with a letter not an email, not a text but something written by hand, trembling and raw, sealed with the kind of sincerity only heartbreak can craft. Liam wrote it one quiet dawn, the sky still gray from yesterday’s ache. He didn’t plan it. It just happened the words spilled out like confession, like blood. “If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t ask to start over only to say goodbye the right way.” That was his first line. He didn’t know how to start any other way. Every sentence that followed came from a place beyond pride. It was the truth that had burned under his tongue for too long.

Lia nodded genuinely. As the last class of the day began, Lia struggled to focus. She tore a piece of paper from her notepad, took out her pen, and began tapping her foot against the floor in contemplation. Finally, she started to write. Dear Asher, You broke my heart. I hate you, and I pray you die of a heart attack. "Ughh," she ripped the paper in frustration and grabbed another to begin again. Dear Asher, This letter isn't easy to write, but it comes from a place of clarity, strength, and acceptance, things I didn’t always have, but have slowly come to find.

Now they were ash. When I finally calmed down enough to look at Colton — really look at him — I saw something I wasn’t ready for. Pain. Longing. A desperate ache that made my chest tighten. He wanted to be the one comforting me. He wanted to be the one I ran to. He wanted to be the one I trusted. But I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready for him. I’m too broken for a mate bond. Too damaged for something that pure.

Such a simple phrase, and yet, after waiting for ten years, I had never heard it. Now that it finally came from his lips, I didn’t need it anymore. For some inexplicable reason, a wave of disgust came over me and I looked at Christopher in contempt. “Don’t you think the most despicable thing in this world is the love that comes too late?” I asked. “To be honest, you’re making me feel nauseous right now. “What we had is over, and it should stay that way. From now on, I’m going to treat you like you’re dead to me!”