Love Beyond Words Novels & Stories

“Don’t do that to me. Ever again.” I blinked at him, surprised by the emotion in his voice. He reached forward, his fingers gently brushing a damp strand of hair from my cheek. Then he leaned in and brought his lips to mine. He kissed me very gently. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine. “I love you, Emily.” My heart stopped. Those four words, finally said it. I didn’t speak. I just let myself breathe him in. Because at that moment, I forgot about my anger and focused on those words. “I love you Emily.” And somehow, I knew he meant it.

he began, "our dance has been a celebration of love, life, and the beauty of the world. I am grateful for every moment I have shared with you." Cynthia smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy. "Roberick, you have brought so much love and beauty into my life. I cherish every moment we've spent together." The garden, with all its vibrant blooms and fragrant scents, seemed to sigh with contentment. The birds, as if applauding, filled the air with their songs, and the world celebrated the enduring love of Roberick and Cynthia.

"Because love means nothing." The thudding of her heart reverberated in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the room as she forged ahead, her hands clammy within the confines of her gloves, her skin flushed with a mixture of nerves and fervor. "Allow me to posit that perhaps your perspective is skewed because you've never truly experienced love in its purest form. Love..." she paused, her voice hitching with emotion, "it transcends boundaries. It surpasses the confines of loyalty and devotion. It reaches depths that loyalty alone cannot fathom."

No words were spoken, only love spoke. Time seemed to slow down as they made love, their bodies fused in perfect harmony. They forgot the outside world, forgot all their problems, and only focused on the happiness they created together. The night seemed eternal, filled with intimate whispers and gentle touches. Luke is no longer in a hurry like before, now he treats Rebecca with warmth and deep love.

“It’s just that there is such thin line between love and hate.” “Nope, not this one. No love, no line. Just pure hatred.” “Are you sure? What if what you call ‘hate’ is just a deep liking for Dominic buried in your subconscious?” Imogen asked, a teasing smile on her face. Maeve narrowed her eyes at her. “No, Imogen, just….no.” “Fine. I won’t say I told you so when it happens.” “Nothing is going to happen, Imogen. Seriously, what have you been watching?”

[Did you finally learn your lesson? Selma stared at her reflection in the mirror, taking in her ghostly pale face and red, swollen eyes. After everything she had endured for him, that was the moment she finally made up her mind. She would wipe out every trace of her love for Valerio. And so, she booked the love-eradication procedure. ... On her way home from the hospital, Selma bought a plane ticket for a flight departing in seven days. Soon, she would be able to start a new life, and soon, she would finally stop loving him.

He knew he could take you there, and that I, for my part, would only shout across the widening gulf in a language you'd come to fear. The pen inscribed the paper, making its mark. I love you. The words stood alone, naked and unadorned. They weren't crying. They were a fact, naked and barren as a headstone. I love hearing you when you are explaining to me some hard business problem, the way your mind wrangles order out of disorder. I love the substance and gravity of you on this earth. I love the memory of you napping in a chair in the library, a ledger across your knees, full, with exhaustion from building a future for my impossible. I loved our life. I loved the world that we built, the one

He had freed her. The moment was a silent, agonizing eternity. It was a conversation that no words could ever capture. It was a testament to a love that was so deep, so profound, that it transcended the need for words. It was a silent acknowledgment of their shared pain, of their shared love, of their shared sacrifice. They were two people, separated by a sea of people, a sea of noise, a sea of regret. But for a few fleeting moments, they were together. They were a part of each other’s world. They were a love that was too big, too powerful, too profound for a world that had tried to tear them apart.

I whispered. The words felt dangerous. Forbidden. Real. The line stayed open, my mother listening, measuring. Finally, she spoke again—cool, distant, unchanged. “Then you will have to learn,” she said, “that love is a liability.” The call ended. I lowered the phone, staring at the empty street where John had vanished. Somewhere out there, he was running—fighting—surviving. And I was the reason he’d learned to stop trusting. I told myself I had done what I was raised to do.

The last time I checked, Maisie Illeana, the one I loved and lived for was in a critical position after too much exposure to the sun. As we waited, one tall, thin doctor walked up to us. His veins were popping out. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, "I'm sorry -" ** And that, my dear friends is how fate chose neither of the options, "love or live," for how could I live after all I'd passed and how could I love after how life had dealt with me. But besides all this, my father smiled and if that wasn't queer, I don't know what is.