Marinette Cries Novels & Stories

"Just go to my house—" "Van," she corrected. "Does it matter?! Just go there and check my special box for a vile with thick glowing blue liquid. Hurry up," she nodded and dashed off, her speed channelling wind into my face. "I'm so sorry, Marinette, I didn't mean for this to happen…" he apologised, running his fingers through his burning hair. I still wasn't crying, I just stared at him with my mouth open even though I was in exquisite pain. "Stand up."

She froze, her eyes locked on his. “I’m not... angry,” he muttered, blinking rapidly. “I’m not even crying, but these tears won’t stop.” His voice cracked as he wiped his eyes, sobering from the laughter. “Jayson...” Marianne called his name softly, feeling her own heart shatter under the weight of his sadness.

Of course, if she found out, she’d probably think I was creepy, so I had to be careful. I should’ve never looked at her window through my camera because now it looks like I was taking a picture of her when she was vulnerable. And she wasn’t wrong. I was taking pictures of her tearful face. She looked beautiful with tears sparkling down her cheeks. “What the fuck, Logan! Are you spying on me!” she screamed at me. I called her cellphone, so we didn’t have to keep yelling and risk waking up the entire neighborhood. “I’m sorry, Marina. I swear I wasn’t trying to snoop. I just wanted to see if you were okay. Why are you crying, anyway?” I asked once she picked up the phone.

Marco, her dearest friend, was no more. "MARCOOO! PLEASE... DON'T DIE! YOU'LL COME BACK TO ME, RIGHT? YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT? WE'RE GOING TO GET MARRIED, RIGHT?" Cris' anguished cries pierced the air, each word punctuated with a sob. Her voice carried the weight of a thousand sorrows, as if the mere thought of living without Marco was unbearable.

It is as if they are inviting a fight to happen between them. “That is enough please!” Maridelle sheds her tear in front of everybody; her heavy sobs are the only noise they could hear. She is getting depressed. “This is all my fault. Forgive me,” she pleaded. “Help make everything fall into their right places, after that I promise no one will be able to benefit from what I have.”

She is in rage but her face looks so pale. “Mrs. Smith, could you please tend to my wife. We can sort ourselves here. Thanks for your help,” said Francois. Marianne has tears at the corner of her eyes. She doesn’t dare to cry so she holds her tears back. “How dare that man act sad and mournful when he is the one who had killed me!!” she is shouting in her thoughts.

Tears welled up, hot and bitter, threatening to spill. “Mother, please,” Marceline pleaded, her voice breaking. “At least hear me out. Please, it’s not what you think.” “I said get out!” Amara’s scream shattered the fragile calm. “I should have known you were only after wealth.” The accusation hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. “You’re a disgrace to me, Marceline. I regret having you,” Amara spat with venom. “I wish I’d never seen your face.” Marceline’s tears spilled free, carving hot trails down her cheeks. The pain was unbearable — a searing ache that rooted her to the spot, her soul cracking beneath the weight of a mother’s fury.

Mara was by her side wiping away her crocodile tears as she painted the way to the puppet. ‘’It is with great sadness that my heart can't bear to send my husband to his final rest. I know we all are grieving but I will want all of us to know life goes on and should keep an eye on one another. The witch who did this must be caught’’ Luna Henrietta sobs even more, making the crowd cry with her. Mara could not hold a straight. She had to act and so did she. She cried just as much as her mistress, but inwardly laughed in the face of everyone.

Everybody chorus “ ohh…” “No way,” Marnie says, her voice dripping with disgust. “ gross, that’s disgusting.” People are laughing. Exclaiming. Whispering amongst themselves. Incredulous. Repulsed. Disgusted. Laughing at this shit show it’s turning out to be. Every inch of my human skin burns, gasping, trying to break free. Fight my way out. But I can’t move. My mate is here. Ethan is my mate.

She mourns not only the loss of his physical presence but also the dreams they had woven together, now left unfulfilled. As the mourning day unfolds, Nora's heartache remains raw and all-consuming. Her thoughts continue to revolve around Terry, and she struggles to find a glimmer of hope amidst the overwhelming sadness. The once bright and joyous day has been transformed into a somber reminder of the fragility of life, leaving Nora to navigate the depths of her grief and search for a way to heal her shattered heart. Miranda, consumed by grief and sorrow, finds herself unable to contain her emotions any longer. She is seated on a sofa, her body wracked with tears that flow endlessly. The weig