Novelas y relatos de Memories Of A Broken Heart Novel

--- But none of it scared him as much as the look in Cathy’s eyes that morning. The fragile hope. The terror of trusting him again. --- Because losing her twice? He would not survive it. --- And somewhere else, Vanessa began the slow, painful work of turning love into memory. But heartbreak had a strange habit. It rarely left quietly. --- The morning after choosing had begun. And already the price was rising.

The sound of my name in her voice shattered something inside me. Not because it was unfamiliar. Because it wasn't. Memory rushed back with devastating clarity. Childhood mornings. Bedtime stories. Family holidays. Countless ordinary moments that grief had preserved in perfect detail. I had spent years trying to remember the exact sound of her voice. Now it stood in front of me like a ghost made flesh. I didn't move toward her. She didn't move toward me. The distance between us remained small physically. Emotionally, it felt impossible to measure. "You look like your father," she whispered.

And then, like a physical blow straight to his chest, the blurred, raw memory of the late night hit him. He remembered gripping her wrist. He remembered drawing her small hand down to his chest, feeling her pulse fluttering against his skin. He remembered looking into her wide, luminous dark eyes and pouring out the dark, desperate truth he had been hiding from himself for weeks: *Don't leave the penthouse, Brooks. Stay here. With me.* Terry closed his eyes, letting out a low, shuddering exhale that vibrated through his ribs. It hadn't been a hallucination. It hadn't been a dream induced by a hundred-and-two-degree fever. It was the unfiltered, terrifying truth that had been building inside

“I’m furious enough to burn his whole kingdom to the ground for free.” For the first time since I walked in, Remy blinked. “You didn’t know that,” I said. It wasn’t a question. “You thought this was about money. About your daddy’s will. You thought you were hiring a woman scorned.” I sat back down, slow, deliberate. Crossed my legs. Picked up the pen he’d left beside the contract. “I’m not scorned, Remy. I’m scorched. There’s a difference.” I clicked the pen at once.

But then I fear that the water would also catch this fire too. I was burning in the betrayal, sadness, and anger that no water except love could stop. And that seemed to be impossible. I believed them. I trusted them. Unknowingly. My heart has been shattered so many times. But this felt broken beyond repair. The thoughts seemed to meddle in my mind like a group of fishes entering an aquarium not knowing that is the only world they have to live in now. Their choice seemed to be live or die. Same as my thoughts. Depressingly staying in the same place. But I want them to go. And the option to die is not a choice until I finish my mission.

As lovers do. What matters is that. In the end, I fell in love with the boy who, Broke my heart. ♡♡♡THE END♡♡♡ ___

"Behind every sweet smile, there is a bitter sadness that no one can ever see and feel."- Tupac Shakur Faiths POV Three years since that incident. The incident where I lost my so called love The incident that changed my life The incident where I lost myself *Flashback* (This was after she received the news of her miscarriage) I woke up feeling sore again and I forgot where I am till I looked around. Soon all the memories came back. Andrew in bed with Natasha naked. Andrew calling all sorts of name.Woke up in a hospital. Doctor telling me I lost my baby and me having a mental breakdown.

I accepted it without objection, for many reasons. It was horrifically painful physically and emotionally. It felt like my skin was being peeled off and my soul tossed into hell, a terrible, cold void. But once the bond was broken and the connection waned I was able to breath again, to hope for a relatively normal life somewhere in the background, not seen or heard. The intense pull, the craving for him that had existed from the time he turned 18 until the rejection became a more bearable deep ache in my chest. Time passed, there is now only the rare piercing sensation, like a thin sharp blade thrust into my heart, as a cruel reminder of that horrible time.

I wanted to live our relationship but he ruined everything and now no matter what nothing will be fixed ever again . After my heart broke I bled an ocean through my eyes. My soul felt wafer thin. My body trembled and chilled. Yet even this magnitude of grief passes. And while it does, we learn more about pain than we ever wanted to know. Then we remember it. Broken hearted is not a destination, yet a difficult road that often appears at the feet, that must be walked in order to get to a better future. We can pad our shoes with good memories to absorb the shock, or let our soles feel the full pain of this change in terrain. At times we alternate between the two. As the days become months and

Getting out of the bed I laid as fast as I could, with every burning fear inside me I shifted my eyes back at the room, before finally tracing it down to exactly what I was wearing. "Big long top, this is not fucking mine" My mind screaming out, as fast as I realized that fact was as fast as my heart for the second time today leaped right into my mouth. My heart racing awfully fast, yet again I tried so hard to remember a thing even if it was just a flash of memory of what the fuck that might have happened, but yet again no matter how I tried, everything every fucking single thing kept on becoming vain. My memories tracing back to the way he broke me completely as he wrapped his hands awfull