Novel & Cerita My Beloved Fool

Amara's POV A flower in full bloom, A moon which is full, A life at its peak, In me, hides the lies I will never utter. There's darkness in me, It grows within me, And threatens to swallow me. The world is my heaven, The world is my hell. The world is my kingdom, The world is mine to bare.

I have been watching them going out for lunch and giggling over silly videos, all while he kept bringing her coffee to her desk like a lovesick puppy just to have a chat. And honestly, it’s ridiculous. But who am I kidding? Anybody who doesn't fall for his kind soul is an idiot. “It’s…it’s just…he is your beloved,” she stutters. “But there is more. He—” Exhaling irritated, I glare at her as she trembles with rage. “The concept of the beloved is just something for the weak…and the animals, so they can believe they can find some happiness while being cursed. It’s ridiculous and you know it. I wouldn’t know why I should keep him. My head aches all the time.”

A knock came on my door, I wasn't bothered to get up, I had not bolted it locked anyway, it was simple I got way over myself, everyone knew I was a fool. I had gotten smitten by a mate whom I walked in having sex with another lady, he had never promised to be with me neither had he assured me of my safety or a marriage, he never spoke stupid words to me nor had he made silky promises, yet like a fool I beloved my imaginations and had let them run wild.

XAVIERA Once bitten, twice shy. My ancestors would weep. Fool me once, you're a fool, fool me twice, I'm the fool. I had been a fool, twice. What was I thinking ? That he'd changed? Overnight? I was really a fool to even expect any change. That tricky bastard had made a fool of me twice. Making me delicate, wobbly, needy and cheap. I bet he was testing how easy it would be to take me to bed, and I had proved he didn't need to do much.

"I have been a fool to you. My love was nothing more than stupidity. The two of you played me for a fool-a blind fool. Did you laugh? Did you find it amusing when I expressed my love for you and desire to spend the remainder of our lives together? Did you laugh?!" I had so much I wanted to say to him-to tell him the last thing I would do was make a mockery of his love. He was never a fool, and if he was, I was a fool as well because whatever he was, I was, but I couldn't speak; I couldn't find my voice in the sea of chaos I now call reality. My tears ran down, and I remained in anguish. "No, I loved you too," I answered, but he didn't believe me; instead, his eyes flared in disdain.

This has better be a dream. “ If I am a fool? Then what are you for being in love with a fool for three years? We're both fools!” I yelled back at him as I couldn't take the endless pain from his words. “Do you think I love you? You're my prey, which I didn't hesitate to hunt down at the very last minute. You see the reason why you should be named a fool?” Lewiston said as his mockery laughter resounded into Helen's ear. The laugh sounded scary, which made her body shake in nothing but a total fear given the wrong situation.

“Understood.” And hung up. I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Every eye in the classroom was on me. I had endured those sneering looks for three years. I knew they were waiting for me to make a fool of myself. They thought I was putting on an act. After all, everyone believed I was the boy whose brain just did not work right. I did not understand indirect language. I could never tell when someone was being sarcastic. When I was little, Mom once said, “You love playing with water so much, why don’t you just live in the toilet?”

I was on my way to Casey Lowe's dorm with a cup of coffee when I saw my roommate, Garrett Phelps, running toward me, waving his phone. "Shane!" He stopped in front of me, out of breath. "You're still buying her drinks? Have you seen the campus forum?" I blinked. "What about it?" He thrust his phone in my face. The post's title appeared in bold across the screen. [Campus Simp Rankings: Losers Who Think They're Being Romantic]

Chris Shaw promised that we would finally get our marriage licence next month. He told me he had secured the first appointment slot in the coming month. It was the third time he had brought up marriage. The first was during Valentine's. Chris called to say that city hall had unexpectedly opened a few last-minute slots and told me to hurry over and wait in line. It was pouring with rain. I waited the whole day and only received a video from his best friend. Chris was playing snooker as he mocked, "Told you she'd do everything I told her to. Just like a dog." The second time was on Labor Day. Chris sent me an address for another city hall, dozens of miles away in the middle of nowhere. I

At my wedding reception, one of Patricia Ferguson's friends suggests a party game to liven things up. She keeps the rhythm, then points at me. "What's something you see at a wedding?" I look at Patricia beside me and point to myself, beaming. "The groom." My friend, Gordon Palmer, shoots me a knowing look before saying with a smirk, "A pathetic bed warmer." I freeze. I'm about to demand an explanation when Patricia's older sister, Amelia Ferguson, gives me a pointed look and sneers. "The side piece." As the color drains from my face, Patricia gently pats my head. "The truth is, Marvin and I got married last year. If your mother hadn't begged me to take care of you before she died, I