Masked Feelings Novels & Stories

Roses are red, Violets are blue, You, my love, will die. You smile with sparks, Heal with a touch, But cut with the sword. I love you but, You are just a masquerade. Andre squeezed his hand tighter against the whiskey glass. It would crush in his hand with just a little more force. He bit his lip hard before taking another gulp down. A drink should ease the pain—they say—but it doesn't. A gulp should drown the pain further into profound depths but it doesn't. Rather, he recounted all his aches down till the break. The accident, the rejections. His eyes stung from the tears he fought. Trying to hold his visible pain from the further display, gradually became more of a Herculean task. Red blaz

I am drawn to London for another reason, and for me this reason is a mystery. - Already going? The friend grinned. Although a smile began to occasionally appear on his face, and he sometimes jokes, but still not the same Brandon. There is no warmth in a smile. It's like putting on a mask every day. - Already, already! - Smiling, he answered him. I hope on my face, not the same smile as his. Hiding your feelings and experiences is extremely rare. A friend sees right through me. This is what long years of friendship and shared grief do.

I had to be strong as if her words didn't affect me so I tried my hardest to pull my face into the coldest one and forcibly said, "Who gives the fuck about your feelings?" After that statement, her expression shifted into an empty one. No hurt and pain laced into her being—— just an empty feeling. It was so painful to see her like this. It was an agony that this was happening right now. Even though I wanted to take it all back and just hug her and kiss her to soothe the pain away from our hearts, I concealed myself in an identity that seemed like she didn't care about everything at all.

The sense of hopelessness and loneliness feels overwhelming, and she buries her face in her hands, crying until she has no more tears left to shed. As the afternoon sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm glow on the room, Mary Lou slowly pulls herself together. She wipes her tears, takes a deep breath, and stands up, determined to put on a brave face for Eliza and Paul, even though her heart feels like it’s breaking.

Each word he spoke seemed to press against her chest, making it harder to breathe, the truth of his pain unavoidable. She could sense how deeply his feelings ran, not just in what he said but in the way he looked at her. His eyes, usually warm and full of hope, now carried a shadow that hadn’t been there before. Isla knew he wasn’t trying to hurt her with his bitterness; it was his way of protecting himself, of masking the vulnerability he didn’t want her to see. But it still cut through her like a blade, the intensity of his emotions leaving her shaken.

CHAPTER 49 — Liana Grief has a strange way of disguising itself. Some days, it feels like rage—sharp, sudden, demanding somewhere to land. Other days, it wears the mask of numbness, convincing you that you’re fine while hollowing you out from the inside. And then there are the quiet days. The most dangerous ones. The days when everything looks normal enough that you almost believe the storm has passed. Monday was one of those days.

There is still a smile on his face and he retorts, “You are so beautiful.” I feel a surge of anger rising within me, a simmering frustration at the audacity of Sean's unexpected move. Part of me wants to lash out at him for crossing boundaries and playing games with my emotions, but I find myself unable to form coherent thoughts or words in response. It's as if all the organs in my body, except for my heart, have shut down, leaving me in a state of emotional turmoil and confusion.

I should stay. My thoughts churned as I recalled rare, unbelievable moments when I witnessed his mask slip for a second or two, or when his eyes gave away more than they usually did– emptiness – and I saw that he was…lonely and hurt. I… I let out a frustrated cry, that sounded more like a whimper as I dropped to heap on the floor. I couldn't shake off the awful feelings and the goosebumps spreading across my skin felt more like stones pricking me.

It was usually quite lively, but by the summer vacation, there will be a lot fewer people. Empty streets, clear street lights, dazzling and deserted. It was like being in the right place. Liam suddenly stopped, and the tip of his tongue pressed against the corner of her lower lip. Then, without warning, he turned sideways and punched him in the face with all his strength. There was no reining in. Following this strength, Jacob took a few steps back, feeling that half of his face was numb as if he had been burned by fire, with numbness. He moved the muscles of his face, rubbed his fingers against the slightly cracked corners of his lips, and smiled, "so hard."

As consciousness slowly seeps back into my weary mind, I reach out, searching for the presence that had provided a fleeting solace in the night. But the space beside me remains cold and empty, a stark reminder of the transitory nature of our encounter. The mask-wearing stranger has vanished, leaving behind only a lingering ache within my heart. The room feels colder now, devoid of the warmth that had briefly thawed the depths of my despair.