My Love My Hatred Novels & Stories

When finally, he spoke, the only word that left his lips was “why?” “Why?” she repeated, as if he had asked a totally ridiculous question. “Why do people frame people up and force them into marriage they don’t want and torture them? Let’s see” she said pretending to think. “How about because they hate them.” she answered, her sharp eyes suddenly becoming sharper with anger, it was amazing how she could transform from cool to hot in just an instant. “I hate you Mr Farhan, I hate every fibre of your stupid disgusting being, in fact, I hate you so much, that I don’t think anyone ever hated anybody as much as I hate you, I hate you more than I hate the devil,” she continued her anger rising with

Too different to be tagged as normal. This wasn't just anger, neither was it frustration. It was pure violent, murderous hatred. Hatred for Rowan, batred for his games, batred for what he did to Mira, hatred for ripping my life apart. And hatred for Darius, for looking at me like I was nothing. For letting me walk away. The moment that hatred stabbed through me, something else moved. No, it bloomed. Bloomed like a forbidden plant that had spread its roots so deep it was impossible to get it out without killing me in the process.

Wyatt said, "I could feel that you hated him so much, but hatred arises from love. If you no longer love him, you wouldn't hate him this much." Elianna took a step closer suddenly and said, "I loved him, that was me being blind with my heart. Now I see his true colors, all that love has turned into hatred. Hatred doesn't mean I still love him, it's because he was too heartless." Her eye sockets, involuntarily turned slightly red.

“Son-son how many times do I have to teach you? Hatred is more powerful than love. Love is a distraction while hatred makes one stronger.” “What if I've had enough of hatred? I want a distraction instead then.” I answered him bodly. Ready for any reply or come back he might have. He was about to reply but stopped himself as the aunt and niece made their way to us. Gods! Let this day end!

When my real parents found me and I discovered that I was a legitimate heir all along who should’ve been living a privileged life, I hated Micah for stealing the wealth and glory that should've been mine. "Then, I learned you took Nancy's wealth and privilege too. I couldn't help but see you as being just like Micah. I felt an instinctive hatred toward you. It was as if despising you was the only thing that would make me feel like everything was finally right in the world. "A real heir should be with another real heir, so I moved in with Nancy. Beyond that, it was also because Nancy was my first love, the one I could never have. She left me for Micah all those years over money, and I was bit

hearing this my stomach flipped. " By getting hate you feel butterflies?" I asked. " So contradictory," I chuckled. " Don't underestimate my feelings even if you slap me I will take them by thinking you touched me anyhow. And here is your feelings then even I am satisfied with hatred of yours because for me your any feelings matters. Either love or hate , at least you feel something for me that matters," he replied. " Then stay satisfied with my hatred because you aren't gonna get my love or forgiveness in this birth," I replied arrogantly, fuming in anger.

"I hate you". Those were the only words that were constantly ringing in my head as I walked towards the café. My name is Rose and I've always been the pretty girl everyone wanted except this badass of a boy that does annoy me every time. I had promised myself that I wouldn't go back there, but here I was, standing outside the door. My heart was racing as I pushed it open and stepped inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit my nose, and my eyes scanned the room, searching for the person I had been avoiding for the past few weeks.

Then, her voice small and rough, she asked the question that had been hanging between us since I let her walk out of my house. “Why did you let me go, Devon?” She shifted, looking up at me, her amber eyes searching. “You knew you couldn't live without me. Why did you let me walk toward him?” I looked at the ceiling, my hand smoothing the red hair across her shoulder. I thought about the centuries of repetition. I thought about the blood on my hands and the ice in my soul. “Because, Irene,” I said, my voice low and steady. “No matter how strong the hatred is, one glimpse of love or affection conquers the hatred no matter how much you try to prevent it. Hate is strong, but love is stronger.”

In the way that meant the thing they had been most certain of had turned out to be the thing that required the most undoing. I had been certain my heart was under control. He had been certain love was finished with him. Neither of those things had been true. And the process of discovering they were not true had been everything. Not easy. Not clean. Not the specific straightforward thing that some love stories were. The other kind. The kind with walls and wounds and a woman named Vivienne and the specific long road that led from his car outside a lawyer's office to a hillside in Tuscany in October to a kitchen table where a four year old delivered philosophical observations with complete auth