Old Love Novels & Stories

Now she’d sent screenshot after screenshot of her conversations with Nathan. The timestamps on the messages weren’t from the past few months—they stretched back years. Most of the time, it was Nathan pouring his heart out to her. "Nina, I started dating someone like you suggested. She’s great, and her smile reminds me of yours." "Nina, whenever I’m with her, it feels like we’re back to the days when we were inseparable." "Nina, how have you been lately? I dreamed about you last night. I miss you." "Nina, I might get married soon. I can’t let her down."

"You did not betray me when you were 17 years old. I am glad to have been loved by you. I'm sorry we can't stay together forever. "Go home. Don't follow me around. I'll take good care of myself." 17-year-old Evan looked at me through tears. He muttered, "Bella, I love you." Smiling through his tears, he reminded me, "Bella, do not forgive him." His figure slowly faded, and eight years of memories dissolved like bubbles, vanishing under the sunlight.

“I can’t let him go. But you must know, the person I truly love is you. Come back with me.” I scoffed. “Can’t let him go? So you used your ex as an excuse to betray me. Tell me, what right do you have to ask for forgiveness?” She persisted. “That night I was drunk—it was an accident. Michael and I are not together. “From the moment you disappeared, I realized I already loved you. Give me another chance, Noah. Let’s start over.” Madeline coughed. “Such a self-righteous, spoiled woman. I really thought you cared for him deeply.”

"Why do you want to know?" "Vincent and his family ruined your life. And you said to me before that you regret loving him. I know you can't remember everything but it is a mistake that you choose to come back in his life no matter what the reason is. You still have time. You can still leave. This time you have a choice. Please choose yourself now," the old lady said, almost begging. "I-I don't understand..." The old lady suddenly hold her hand. Sophia swallowed when she feel the old lady's cold palms on her. Sophia was forced to look at her the old lady's eyes because of what she did.

Everything was very difficult for Dave to understand. "But that was Dave. Before I understood what love was. All this time I could only hope that Fero would return my love. But after all this time. I couldn't hold back the hatred that I experienced. In the end, only that hate was left Dave I don't want anyone else in Fero's life and want to have him. But he was before I understood. If the feelings of love that I have can only make me hurt. I can't Dave keep holding on and keep hoping he will love me like before! Feelings that make me a fool and a puppet to Fero!"

Marcus was five years older than me, yet his way of loving someone was just as childish as mine. I turned and hugged him. "Marcus, just be yourself. You don't have to be crazy just for me." He held me tightly. "I'm afraid you'll think I'm old, boring, and full of that overly mature vibe." His tone was pitiful, and it made me laugh. "Then I need to check exactly how strong this 'mature vibe' of yours really is."

But I could feel his gaze. “Tonight feels unreal,” Sophia whispered beside me. “It’s perfect,” I whispered back, letting myself get lost in the atmosphere. Then Oliver stood for a toast. He held Melissa’s hand as he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. “These past thirty-five years,” he began, “have been the best years of my life. Melissa gave me my greatest joys–our children, our home, and the kind of love I didn’t know I deserved. She’s been my partner, my anchor, my best friend. If I had another life to live, I’d find her again. And I’d marry her sooner.”

Out in the yard, a garden of roses was still in bloom. That rose garden had been a surprise gift from 28-year-old Sam. He had told me, “These are Scottish green roses. They represent a love that never fades. Just like mine for you. Hazel, I swear right here in this garden that I’ll never let you down.” I laughed and asked him, “And what if one day you do?” He thought for a moment before replying, “Then you destroy the whole rose garden. And never forgive me.” Now, that garden in my heart, once so vibrant and full of life, had reached the end of its bloom. The petals were falling, one by one.

If a gay couple moved in together, they would inevitably become the talk of the town for years. I recalled a story my grandmother had once shared during a Christmas gathering a few years back. She mentioned a friend's grandson who was gay, and how his grandmother had sought guidance from the village chaplain. The chaplain had instructed her to do everything in her power to convince him to marry a woman, warning that his soul would be lost to the devil if he didn't. It was a stark reminder of the deeply ingrained beliefs and prejudices that still persisted among the older generations.

I locked the door, submerging myself in the darkness. Outside, the familiar London rain beat against the windowpane, echoing all the things I had swallowed for the past eight years. On the bedside table, a copy of *Vogue Weddings* from six months ago had gathered a layer of dust. Its cover feature had once been a prop I used to hint at our future — a suggestion he had shelved with a dismissive "not now, we'll talk later". Now, it sat there, unread and forgotten.