Midnight Tears Novels & Stories

The thin sheet of paper trembled in the silence for a long time, like the final echo of a departing voice. Tears finally broke free from Marcel's lashes and splashed onto the letter, landing atop tear stains that had already dried there. "Cedric..." Marcel's fingers tightened around the page until his knuckles turned white. Delilah stared at the neat handwriting covering the letter, her chest filling with an indescribable ache. The man who had always listened to them, who had grinned foolishly and declared himself the happiest person in the world, had been forced by their betrayal to grow wings.

I could not do anything except lie here and wait for the pain to stop. I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin, and let the tears fall. The pillow was damp with them, the fabric wet and cold against my cheek. I had been crying for seven days, and I did not know if I would ever stop. The tears came in waves, sometimes silent and slow, sometimes sharp and violent, but they never stopped. They were always there, just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness. My hand reached for his side of the bed, fingers brushing against the cold, empty space where he used to lie. The sheets were cold, undisturbed. He had not been here for seven days. He would never be here again

Ava sat on the floor, her back resting on the queen-size mattress, her shirt, and black undies a stark contrast to the darkness that consumed her. She gazed out the window, the moon's gentle light casting an ethereal glow on her skin. Her eyes, weak and watery from crying, seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words. The tears had long since dried, but the pain remained, a constant ache that refused to subside.

is it supposed to hurt this much loving others? is it supposed to be like this forever Admiring stars but not the sky I own. Wiping my tears in the cold lonely night, I stood up and lay on my bed, my head pounding like somebody just hit me with a hammer. Wrapping the sheets around me, I close my eyes with only one thought. Never again I would show my fear my weakness Even if it breaks me inside, I will never let anyone see my tears. THE NEXT MORNING. 8.00 AM

Midnight yelled, incredibly mad at his request for me to let him go. “Midnight, This is for the best.” I tried to comfort Midnight but she wasn't letting it go. He suddenly removed his one hand and clutched the cloth over his can't tightly, clawing his heart. “It hurts...so.....much....” His eyes dropped to the floor, and I can see droplets of his tears leak from his eyes as he sobbed. The sight in front of me was pulling on my heart strings that I also placed one hand on my chest in a bid to calm my beating heart.

The way the door had closed behind him without a word of goodbye. She hadn’t cried. Not once. But now, with the clock ticking past midnight and no sign of him, the tears had begun to well in her eyes, hot and slow, like they were being dragged from a place too deep to reach. One slid down her cheek. Then another. And then she was shaking soundless, breathless sobs she couldn’t control anymore.

It was relentless, impossible to silence. You can still run. “The perfect bride,” Ana whispered, her voice soft as she met my gaze in the mirror, as if she too was trying to convince herself. And that was when I broke. It started behind my eyes, a sharp sting that warned of what was coming. The bridge of my nose began to itch, and my lips trembled without permission. Tears welled up and spilled over the dam I’d tried so hard to build. But these weren’t happy tears. They weren’t born from joy or anticipation. These were mourning tears—heavy, heart-wrenching, soul-draining tears. The kind of tears you cry when you realize your life is no longer yours, that something precious is slipping throug

He just rests his hand against mine, and I feel the warmth of it while I think about everything I am still keeping from him as I turn my face toward the window. The tears come silently. I’ve learned how to cry without a sound—no gasping breaths, no shaking shoulders. Just the steady, hot tracks of salt water tracing my temples and disappearing into the pillow. I lie perfectly still and let them fall, because I’ve earned every one of them. I’ve earned them through the years of looking over my shoulder, the terrors of the escape, and tonight, which has broken something open in me that I don’t know how to close.

The city glow hit the planes of his jaw, making him look like he’d been carved out of the night itself. “Call me Midnight,” he said. His voice was low, carrying a weight that made her skin prickle. “And I know exactly who you are, Lila. I know you touch yourself every night. I know you lie here imagining a stranger who comes in and tells you what to do. I know what you crave when nobody is looking.” He leaned against the wall, his gaze dropping from her face to the glistening toy still inside her. His eyes didn’t waver. There was no shame in his look, only a terrifyingly calm observation.

"Ismael Kiplimo!" He witnessed a shocked frightened look in her eyes. A shock of realization. Tears welled up in her eyes. It was obvious she was going to cry. She shrank down the couch and lowered her eyes covering them with a leso and broke into tears. She shamelessly cried like a little kid. Mary crossed over to comfort her. "Don't cry sis. It is alright."