Novelas y relatos de Memories Of A Broken Heart Novel

I used to have a playful, sweet son, Shawn Sorensen. But now, his skin looked pale and puffy from being underwater for too long. The blood on the severed half of his hand had dried up a long time ago, but it would never heal. People kept telling me to cry and get my pain out, but I didn't. I quietly handled everything for Shawn before placing him in the cold coffin. That was when I got a call from Zach Sorensen.

I harbored a deep resentment toward them, yet I still had to find a way to survive. No longer protected by the Brosnan family, I resorted to using my beauty to become a mistress, only to be pursued by a scorned wife and ultimately sold into prostitution. I got addicted to drugs and contracted various types of STDs. I died on a cold winter night, broke and starving. As I slipped away, amidst a world aglow with lights, not a single one shone for me. In my final moments, I asked myself if I had any regrets. No, I did not.

I had done it because I wanted to, because I wanted to see the way his lips curled into a lazy smile when he took the first bite, the way he hummed in approval, the way he made me feel like I was his. Even when I never was. Even when I never could be. And in return, he only broke me. In every way....To the point there's no return.... The memory grips me so tightly that for a moment, I forget where I am. I forget that I’m sitting across from someone else, someone watching me, waiting for an answer I can’t seem to find. I swallow, forcing myself back into the present, forcing the ghosts of the past to loosen their grip. But they never really do.

I felt secured with him by my side, and our bodies in close proximity. He had gone through a lot, even with power, money and everything one can only dream of, he was still a broken man with various scars on his shoulders and back. It was the proof of the difficulties he had gone through to be where he is right now, yet even with his status, his wound in his heart kept getting bigger. Shattered memories are more painful than not having any memories at all, because with small shards, you can see the reflection of yourself in a piece, but never as a whole.

That against all odds, love would be strong enough to survive even the theft of memory itself. Because if it wasn't, if these seven days ended with her still not remembering, still choosing to go back to Adrian... I didn't think I'd survive losing her a third time. Some hearts could only break so many times before they stopped healing. And mine had already shattered twice over her.

My first heartbreak—stood, fully awake, eyes glued to me like I'd stepped out of a dream. "Mia," he breathed, crossing the room in three long strides before pulling me into his chest. "Oh, my God. You're here. You're real. We thought you were gone forever." His arms... they still feel like home. That's the problem. The warmth of his body nearly melted me. Almost. But then the fire came. The fury. The memories. Remember what they did. Remember how they left you broken and pregnant and alone. I shoved him back so hard he nearly lost balance. "Don't touch me."

It's still there locked up in my safe, I could not do it, I could not throw it away, I could not crush it. I could only look at it remembering the good days, Remembering the painful memories. How my world broke apart, how the only thing that was a source of light left, how it perished. How she Left me in the Time I both needed her. And I was so broken, could not reach out for her, and I had to struggle to get to this point, to get to this heights. I'd given up those years. Given up those painful memories. I'd forgotten everything.

Aurora had always imagined heartbreak would feel like a sharp, sudden pain, like a knife to the chest, immediate and devastating. As she stood frozen in the doorway of the dimly lit apartment she had shared with Shawn for the last three years; she realized heartbreak wasn’t always so dramatic. Sometimes, it was quiet, and slow; almost a numb, creeping sensation that started at the edges of her mind and worked its way inward, wrapping around her like a vice.

“I know it hurts. Let it out. I'm here. We're here.” He hugged me closer, his heartbeat steady under my cheek. But the breaks kept coming, memories flowing in like fractures in my soul, each memory a fresh wound, bleeding out the love I'd wasted on a killer. A murderer! I clung to him, broken, the hallway fading as darkness pressed in, my world reduced to his arms and the endless ache of everything that Zane had stolen from me.

I mourned because of the manipulation, the betrayal, for loving someone who'd chosen wrong when it mattered most. I was utterly broken because there was nothing left. The room held me while I shattered, her memory the only witness to how completely I'd come undone.