Love Is Not A Number Novels & Stories

Indignation overtook Meg as she struggled to remain calm. "I never gave you hope," she continued, her voice laden with regret. "I never invited you into my room. I woke up and you were there, as if you had a right over my body and my life. That's not love, William, that's possession, that's a power game you're playing." William looked at her for a moment, his eyes full of disdain. "Love is a luxury that few can have. And an orphan like you, with no family or last name, would never find a better match. You'd better be grateful for this opportunity and stop playing hard to get."

Well those are absolute lies. Everyone of us is fit to be loved... No matter our stories, our past or our present... Love is never impossible for anyone, we just have to look closely to find it... Who knows, it might just be an apartment away from you... My name is Bliss Carnap and this is where I drop my pen! . THE END

Disbelief washed over her features. " So, fabricating signatures isn't my father's only expertise; he also spins elaborate lies." She let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Love? Is that the rumor now?” She shook her head, her honey-blonde hair catching the moonlight. "I don’t believe in love. Never understood the hype it's just endorphins, a chemical reaction. I don't see why poets and novelists romanticize it as the answer to all problems. Love throws the world into chaos. It’s the reason people act foolishly, obsessively. Love is a haze. A pain in the ass—the kind you don’t want."

“Mmm… do you think your love for me is strong enough to bring you to the dance?” “Yes, I believe so.” “Good,” Kate said sleepily and yawned. “It’s a date then. I’ll be waiting for you… Ecto, last question… How much… do you love me?” A brief silence from Ecto. Then, he answered softly: “7 times 10 raised to the 27th power. That is the total number of atoms in the average human body. H squared equals 8 thirds of pi G rho. This is the formula that demonstrates the constant expansion of the universe. From a less scientific or numerical perspective, I was created to love you, Kate. You are the reason that I exist.”

Can we forget about the divorce? Carter was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected that from Misty. If she had confessed her love for him in the past, he would have been overjoyed—perhaps even moved to tears. But now, after his patience had worn thin, all he felt was a faint sadness. He looked at her and asked, "Do you love me? What about Zach?" Misty froze, unable to respond. A flicker of disdain flashed across Carter's eyes. "Misty Lawrence, a heart has no room for two."

Maria replied with a sad tone. “What do you mean hold?” Daria asked again but Maria seemed hesitant, “I’m sorry if am offending you” Daria drew back. “No it’s fine I actually had a terrible experience with love” Marisa paused asking for another refill, “I fell in love with the most beautiful man I had ever seen, but he wasn’t in love with me at the time we met, my friend seduced him” she paused again. “And they had a fall out leading to his disappearance, so hear I am, unable to find love again”she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Raw and irrational and almost adolescent in its bitterness. He looked at Luca with open contempt. Then at Damon. And said the cruelest thing he could think of: “When he leaves you, you’ll deserve it.” Silence. Rain. Blood. Damon’s hand steadied. Completely. Because there it was. The thing Matteo had never understood and never would. Love was not leverage. Not a transaction. Not a cage. Not a debt. It was choice. Messy. Risky. Human. And the reason Matteo would always lose was because he couldn’t comprehend being chosen freely.

Put it down again. I walk to the kitchen and pour my perfectly good coffee down the sink for no reason and stand there gripping the counter and think: I cannot do this. I cannot be in love with Adrian Knight. That is not what this is. That is not what we agree to. The contract has an end date and none of this is supposed to be real. Except. Except I cannot explain that photograph. That photograph is not pretending. And anyone who looks at it for more than three seconds knows that, which is probably why it gets forty-seven thousand impressions in two hours. People recognize something real even when the people in it are still in the middle of panicking about it.

Of course, she did. She tried to reach me. God, she tried. Fancy dinners, long vacations, “let’s try again” talks. But love can’t be forced. Chemistry doesn’t negotiate. One night, she stood by the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself like she was freezing from the inside. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve waited for you to love me. I’ve waited for a child. I’ve waited for laughter. I’m tired of waiting, Kenneth.”

The moment Mom said those words, Dad’s expression changed. Everyone turned to stare at her. Ever since I’d spoken my first number at five years old, the entire family had assumed that the numbers were counting down to death. Mom slowly lifted her head. She had no tears left, but she forced herself to reveal the truth that shattered everything they believed. “The number above Cece’s head measured how much she was loved. “Everyone has a number of their own. It reflects how deeply the people closest to them truly love them.