Love Heals Novels & Stories

And that was the greatest title he could ever win. --- **"Once, someone told him love doesn't heal. But no one said it could teach you how to live again. That a touch could feel like home. A glance could offer shelter. A word could forgive the past. He didn't heal through shouting. Not as a hero. Not all at once. But one step at a time— toward the one who never gave up on him. And when his hand wrapped around a little boy's, and beside him stood the heart that led him through every darkness,

Real healing didn’t only make people better lovers. Sometimes it made them gentler human beings everywhere else too.

There will be a good guy nearby and everything will subside . Lesana perked up on her bed. I don't need any guys. The smell of them makes me want to vomit…” she spat out angrily, turning away again. - Oh, stupid. Donatos tormented your body and soul. Yes, the body will heal itself. The soul is healed only by love and kindness. And who will you receive love and affection from? Not from me - old nags. You can only comfort in hugs. I don't need any hugs. I will howl at them like a beast.

she shares with the group quietly. Everyone is intensely listening to Jenna as they are curious how the healing works. “If I healed you, then you would have felt warmth and a sense of peace come over your body. For me I absorb your pain or injury. If you have a broken arm, I have a broken arm. If you have a cut, I have that same injury although you may not see the blood. I then need time to heal myself, which can take hours or days depending on the severity of the injury.

I simply desired to feel some thing apart from the harm that threatened to swallow me whole. Time handed slowly as I waited for her reaction. I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered in my heart. But I knew I needed to keep shifting ahead, even if I became uncertain of wherein that route might lead me. Finally, my smartphone buzzed with a reply from Emily: “Of course! I’ll be there quickly.” A small smile crept onto my face, a glimmer of consolation amidst the typhoon. Maybe I ought to discover a manner to navigate this ache together with her assist. I just needed to don't forget that I wasn’t by myself on this journey.

Trust me I love my family, I really do but I kinda like my alone time. my phone pinged. Mindlessly reaching for my phone I mistakenly knocked it on the ground.. "Arrgh my baby," I fake cried and gently picked it up from where it lay and examined it for any cracks, when I was sure there was none, I cuddled it and whispered some nonsense to it. "My love am really sorry, I won't hurt you deliberately you know right?" Ha! don't look at me like that, if someone else was here I would care but hey am alone, so I could dance naked for all I care.

Tears were threatening to creep out of my eyes but I wouldn’t let them, aunty Joan sighed and looked down. Probably ashamed of herself for almost yelling at me or blaming me for my decision, the memories just have hit her deep and hard and she wasn’t expecting it. She tried to move toward me but her attire was so slow so I rushed to her instead, holding her to support her just in case she’s too weak to stand on her own. “Look here Joan, I love her and she’s aware but there are somethings that love cannot solve, we have to break and Remold what we wasn't.”

Maybe that's what love looks like when you're actually healing. Not perfect. Not painless. Just conscious. Intentional

All in this seven people. Heathens is all I have, I am nothing, literally nothing without them, just dust, just a broken piece and hopeless promise. But the insults, the hate aimed at someone so beautiful, that's what made Mom smile like there was no other day left on earth, that was the cause of her happiness at this moment. Thats what lightened Mom's mood, despite the fact that she was in a bad temper, and couldn't handle my shit, but she could handle the shit bags words. Talking shit about good people, makes my family's day. That's the kind of family I live in, unfortunately.

‎ ‎A healer named Gentle—descendant of Elara, her light soft as dawn—comes with a wounded bird from a distant storm. ‎ ‎She places it on the ground. ‎ ‎The bird heals. ‎ ‎Not by magic. ‎ ‎By love. ‎ ‎The garden heals with it. ‎ ‎They do not speak of us. ‎ ‎They live us. ‎ ‎In the way they choose. ‎ ‎Every day. ‎ ‎In every small way. ‎ ‎The light is not a power. ‎ ‎It is the choosing. ‎ ‎The love is not a gift. ‎ ‎It is the doing.