Love And Hate Relationship Books Novels & Stories

“How odd. All I thought families would always be in good relationship with each other.” “Well, it doesn’t work that way. All kinds of relationships, whether it’s familial, friendship or the likes, there would always be something or someone that can make us irked all the time. It’s because there’s some instance that happened in the past for us to hate someone specifically. Others wouldn’t feel that way though. Because in some cases, people hate people simply because they hate them. No more reasons. They just didn’t like their energy.” “And in my case, something ill happened between the two of us that’s why I ended up hating her?”

“You killed Andrei! You shattered my life! And now you’re... you’re making me... I hate you!” Ruslan doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. He just lets me hit him, lets me scream, his jaw clenched, his eyes hard as stone. But I can feel it—the bond thrumming between us, tugging at me even now, when I hate him more than I ever have. It pulls at my heart, at my soul, making it impossible to escape him. I hate him. I hate him. So why can’t I stop thinking about him? “Katya—” he starts, his voice strained, but I cut him off, pushing him again, even though my arms are weak, trembling.

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“I envy their relationship, though. There's a high chance they might become friends.” The more you hate, the more you love. Heidi found herself reaching for the wine glass again despite repulsing it. Wasn't it also true that the more you love, the more it hurts? As true as those phrases were, they were better avoided. If only one had the power to do that. If she'd been sane enough and controlled herself as early as the iron was still hot, things wouldn't have gotten to this, because, after love and hate, came the irredeemable hurt.

I, Vincenzo Capone, got outsmarted by the woman I loved. Loved? Loved. It's insane how, in mere seconds, your perspective on someone can take a wild turn. One second you love them more than the whole world and the next, you hate them with every fiber of your being. Your whole being caught in this intense switch, like a tug of war between what felt great and what feels like a punch in the gut. Love and hate, surprisingly alike, are these crazy powerful feelings that have a knack for devouring you from within, like flames licking at the edges of your soul.

It's a matter of learning what will push you to that point. I've spilled blood. Out of luck or whatever anyone wants to call it. This crusade is fueled by love. A pretty, sparkling, soft emotion, capable of wreaking more havoc than hate. Hate can't dig under the skin the way love does. It doesn't alter your cells or spark chemistry. You'd bleed for someone you love, never someone you truly hate. But hate holds a dark power of its own. And right now, both hate and love are driving my decisions.

"Ih, you're so sour today, much more than usual. I better think of something soon to win Lillian back because I can't stand them both sulking around me, they'll ruin my days. ... After they left the cafeteria, they walked down a street where there was a library, a girl left there in such a hurry that she bumped into Adam causing the bags he had carried in his hands and her books falling to the floor. "Sorry, I'm sorry about that. "She immediately tried to apologize and pick up her books from the floor, embarrassed. "No problem, all right. "Adam reassured her and helped her with the books until one of them caught his attention "The Love of a Duke" he read on the cover and suddenly came to his

“You don’t like that your sexual needs can overwhelm your intellect.” She sighed, not entirely sure if it was from annoyance or pleasure at the way he touched her. “It’s more than that. Sex is primal and basic. I hate you, but I hate my own weakness more.” “Hate is the flipside of love, they say.” He grinned before brushing his lips against hers, trying to coax her to respond. “That’s bullshit. Apathy is the flipside of love. Hatred and love are

She stood in the center of the sunlit room, fire blazing in her eyes, every line of her body coiled with defiance. But I could already see it—the fracture. She hated this place. She hated me. And yet… When her gaze lingered on the balcony, the gardens stretching endlessly below, when her fingers brushed the velvet drapes too long, when her lips parted at the sight of endless books stacked in the library like treasures… that hatred flickered. I lived for those flickers.

Anything else. That’s when I remember the library book I should’ve returned weeks ago. The librarian’s probably going to bite my head off—but honestly? I don’t care. I’ve read that book so many times, I could quote it in my sleep. The romance between the Prince of England and the American president’s son… what started as hate turned into something powerful, something unstoppable. A love so intense, not even the gods could break them apart. I dream of a love like that. But in my messy little life, it feels impossible.