Love And Hate Relationship Novel Novels & Stories

What will happen? Arjun consoled Ishu and thinks to reveal this as soon as possible to avoid the drama. ***** Siddharth started the radio. The DJ started telling something about love, making Mishty lower her eyes. She doesn't want to see Sid at this moment. What's happening to her? "Love is the only thing which is not planned by anyone. It comes instantly at anyone and we can't decide whom we should love and whom we should not" the DJ spoke cheerfully and continued with more quotes on love.

"Earlier you attacked me with your fists, and I'm not one to hit a woman… Unless of course, she takes pleasure in it. So I simply used my lips instead." There it was, that coldness and hatred in his eyes again. "I hated it." I said, glaring at him. He had thrown me off, once again. "And I hate you, so we’re even." His reply came. That stung. He had never said he loved me, but to express his hate so easily? That was harsh. Our eyes met before his gaze dipped down and I remembered what I was wearing. "What do you want, Theon?" I asked, trying not to care.

🌹Aurora 🌹 The following days were different—different in a way that sent a strange warmth curling through my chest, a slow-burning fire that I wasn’t sure I wanted to put out. Damien and I weren’t suddenly in love, nor had we solved all the problems that stood between us, but something had shifted. It started with small things.

I don't know what happened but the next thing I knew, I was already being carried by Lorenzo. I tried to throw him a deadly glare but I couldn't open my eyes anymore. So instead of doing that I just leaned my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. “I hate you,” I mumbled weekly. It was full of resentment and I mean it with all my heart. I hate him to the core because he obviously wasn't attracted to me anymore. “Do you really mean it?” I heard him queried. I didn’t answer and just closed my eyes tightly. My head suddenly felt light. The heat I was feeling was still there but my eyelids were getting heavier and sleepiness is now taking over.

My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water until I could finally speak, repeating his question back. "You want me to tell you why I hate you?" I passed it over and over, the thought absurd. "Do you think of me as such a fool, to continue loving you even after everything you did?" I wrapped my anger around me like armor, grounding myself in it. "Loving you was a choice I made. No matter how stupid it was. Hating you is no different." I did not allow myself to notice his quickened heartbeat at my words. "But you hate me too, don't you? So why don't we have equal rights?"

I spat, glaring wide-eyed at him, mumbling beneath my breath. “You see, that's the thing... I'm beginning to think you really want more of this hate-love relationship we have going on.” He basically purred into my ears; my skin caught the heat, and it tingled in response. I parted my lips letting out a sigh, relaxing into his arms before finally snapping back to reality “I hate you, Luca. Let it sink. There's no hate, love, or rubbish between us; all we have is hate. And then hate. And then more hate.” I retorted before pulling away from him.

Then he came for us again. And sometimes, my father had bruises on his arms, his neck, even his face from their arguments. I didn’t know if he let her throw things just to make her feel better or if she hit him. I doubted she could ever beat him. Not the man I knew. But he never touched her. Not once. That was the most confusing part of it all. Whatever their marriage was, it wasn’t love. Hate didn’t fit either. It was Empty. As if the only thing that kept them connected was my father, or maybe my brother and I.

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Beneath the soft glow of the fading twilight, my younger sister and my fated mate, Brian, were entwined in each other’s arms, sharing a kiss that was as passionate as it was devastating. The world around me blurred, the warm hues of the sunset contrasting sharply with the cold emptiness settling in my stomach. Just hours earlier, I had been eagerly anticipating a quiet evening with Brian, dreaming of laughter and shared stories to wash away the stress of a grueling workday. Instead, I found myself standing here, reeling from the shocking betrayal that felt like a dagger to my heart.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours of silence. For Lily, each minute had been a deliberate brick laid in the wall she was building between her old life and this new, sterile reality. The sweetness of that afternoon in the penthouse—the shared smiles, the brushes of hands, the whispered possibilities—felt like a fever dream now, a hallucination brought on by a desperate need to be loved. In the cold light of the aftermath, there was only the jagged truth: Julian Vane was no different from Thomas. He was just better at branding.