Never Say Goodbye Novel Novels & Stories

My life and my relationship with my mother. I remember one of those sayings that I read once *Have you ever tried moving on Have you ever tried letting go Have you ever tried forgiving yourself When chasing forgiveness is like chasing the last bus of the night* This time, I’ll make sure I catch that last bus of the night and not just catch but also stay happy throughout the journey. Time to say goodbye and stay happy /////////////// It’s time to say goodbye to the first part of this book. I know people, it’s heartwretching and a not so happy ever after story.

The moment he saw her, he got up and walked up to her. "Kim!" He said. She smiled, "Hi, Mr. Thompson." He opened his arms and hugged her. "I'm so sorry, Kim. I wish there was something I could do for you and Ian." "It's okay," she replied. "It's fine, Mr. Thompson. Even if I die today, I will die fulfilled because I know I have the love of all the important people in my life. Everyone around me has been very good to me, and they have made this process easier. I have no regrets."

“After this, no more delays. Tonight. Private ceremony. Just us. Then I’m knotting you until you can’t walk.” Tears slipped down my cheeks—happy, relieved, free. “Yes. A thousand goodbyes to everything before. Hello to you.” He kissed them away. “A thousand goodbyes.” We stayed locked on the table, hearts hammering in sync, while the city hummed outside and the bond sang its final, unbreakable note. I was Alisa Moretti. I was Kael Draven’s mate. And I had never been more free.

"If you walk out that door, Carl, you'll regret it." I'd been planning to share with him the good news tonight—that I was pregnant with our baby. He'd always said he wanted a child, but now, he was nothing but rotten. Carl didn't say a word. He stayed silent until the candle burned out completely, leaving us in the dark. "Hailey, it's just this one time," he finally said. "I've already explained it. After this, I won't be involved with her anymore. Why can't you just let it go?"

The fire and pride of her youth were long gone. She lit a candle for me. Smoke curled upward as her voice rasped, "Ten years. Are you doing alright over there? In the next life, I'll find you earlier. I'll take care of you. I won't let go again... Just wait for me, okay?" The fire on the candle went off without warning. Claire froze. She stared at the candle, her eyes reddening slowly. Then she covered her face, her shoulders shaking violently. I stood behind her. My spirit was growing lighter, fainter, dissolving like morning mist.

“I did want this to work out. We could have made it work. Unfortunately, I can see it’s not going to happen. So, let’s make the break now and be done with it. No point in dragging the pain out.” Damiano leaned to the side and opened the back door. “Goodbye, Thea.”

And I would have to be always on the run for the rest of my life. "Goodbye, Ada. " "Goodbye, Mady. Don't ever return to this hell. "

"Honestly, Sebastian, you should learn from him. Be a little more generous and big-hearted." She sounded so nonchalant, as if she hadn't just sunk another knife into my chest. I held my tongue only because this was going to be our last dinner. I had planned to say goodbye, but Edward and Bobby's presence made it impossible. I wondered if Hera would regret bringing them along if she knew this was truly the end. Then again, maybe it no longer mattered. She had wasted this chance and showed little remorse. The Saintess had become so distant and cold that I could no longer imagine her warmth.

] I floated above the city, watching the three people I once loved end their sinful lives in the most tragic manner. I said softly to the system, "A little longer." I went to my grave. The flowers in front of the tombstone had wilted, but the tombstone was spotless. "Goodbye, Dad." "Goodbye, Mom." "Goodbye, Egor." "Goodbye, Jasmine." I quietly bid them farewell, saying goodbye to them and also to my once naive self who thought love could last forever. Never forgive. Never meet again. [Time remaining: 0.]

My wife, Sarah, was the executive chef at a renowned Michelin-starred restaurant in town. Her culinary creations were famous across the city, making a reservation nearly impossible to secure. Yet in our ten years of marriage, she had never cooked me a single meal at home. She always claimed that cooking was just her job, and when she came home, she didn’t want to set foot in the kitchen. Naturally, I wanted to visit her restaurant and taste her food. However, every time I brought it up, she insisted that all the tables were fully booked and told me not to make a scene. Everything changed when my mother’s seventieth birthday approached. Half a month in advance, I asked Sarah if she could