Mosaic Broken Hearts Novels & Stories

" Stop this Dylan please stop this." "You can't mend a broken glass. I am broken beyond repair." You destroyed me the day I learned to love you. To feel something for you. Then how can you expect me to give you that piece of mine once again when you already broke it with your own hands. _______________________________________ Next will be updated soon. Do like and give feedback. Spread the purple heart.

It was a golden ocean that smelled of old tears, forgotten laughter, and the metallic tang of absolute desperation. The "Curator Prime"—the obsidian eye in the sky—watched the "Mosaic" army approach with the cold, absolute indifference of a being that had forgotten what it felt like to have a heart. Around the mall, the "System Restoration" beams were creating a wall of grey static that was slowly "Bleaching" the city into a blank canvas.

After all i had already became the atrocious girl in the family so what was the point of still being a virtuous girl. "The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever" by Carrol Bryant- resembled the situation of my splintered heart. My heart was shattered like a thousand pieces of broken mirror. And this was also the day from when I started thinking I was a cursed child with a cursed and tenebrous fate; this was the day my Ill fate started and I was doomed for life.

kapoor, you didn't get me I guess, I just need your help in helping me keep the two projects that I already have," She looked into his eyes, holding up to the shattered pieces of pride left within her Just like a crushed glass cannot be put together, so can a fractured pride not be put together All Hearts!!

Chapter Fifteen: When the Moon Cries The shattered pieces of the moonstone necklace sparkled like stars on the ground. Lyra stared at them, chest heaving, her soul cracking. Everything they’d built—the rituals, the preparation, the bond—they were all unraveling in her hands. Killian stood before her, cloaked in shadow, eyes no longer the vibrant storm-grey she had fallen in love with. Now they were ink-black voids, swirling with Lucien’s corruption.

It sets you free. She prayed she and Beau and her siblings and friends stayed happy and loving in their relationships. They had been through a lot together. They broke each other yes, but they fixed those cracks with gold and it was beautiful. There was wonder in destructionand they had each other to get through the rubble of brokenness. *BREAKING YOU* *ThE end*

The crowd erupted into cheers, and the two leaned in for another kiss, oblivious to the world around them. I cried until my eyes burned and my tears ran dry. Ava’s voice cut through my misery. "Cynthia, I know this hurts. I’m only showing you this to snap you out of it. Stop following Ethan around. He’s not worth your love. You deserve a life of your own." My throat felt raw, my voice nothing more than a whisper. "I know." I had been so foolish, letting myself be blinded by Ethan’s fake affection for so many years, falling in love with someone who never truly cared about me.

Winnie covered her face and asked in agony, "Do you hate me so much? You... you wouldn't even leave me a single word." Just then, the assistant came running in again. "Ms. Lowe, we have an issue! The police are here. They want to investigate you for stealing a donor heart and wasting resources. And... a passing car recorded Mr. Morgan's death... Now, the netizens are cursing us." Winnie was quiet, feeling only a slight sense of dizziness while her ears buzzed. Her heart ached intensely just as Klose’s once had. She clutched her chest tightly, and then she passed out after a moment of dizziness.

In his time as a True Crime writer, Byron had interviewed many people, many of them disturbed or troubled in some way. In these interviews, he would often run up against what he called The Breakdown, to the point where, due to the pressures of telling him their story a person would hit an unknown well of feelings and just… shut down, usually in a maelstrom of tears. They always recovered but it was at a point that Byron always hated, even dreaded.

Her heart raced with every step, her mind consumed by the fear of being alone and vulnerable. She had never felt so abandoned, so rejected by the very people who were supposed to love and support her. The city lights cast long shadows behind her, like skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch her back into the darkness. The shabby shop loomed before her, its broken windows and crumbling facade a stark reminder of her own shattered dreams. She pushed open the creaky door, the dim light inside a meager refuge from the darkness outside. Collapsing onto the dusty floor, she clutched her phone to her chest, her eyes fixed on the screen as she prayed for Stacy's response.