Our Missing Hearts: A Novel Novels & Stories

The day after my best friend, Sarah Blunt married Patrick, the second son of the Brosnan family, I too became a bride and wed Matthew, his older brother. She married a swimming champion, and I, the rock-climbing coach. We thought we had our futures all figured out. Then, something happened that summer. The four of us planned a getaway but Matthew and Patrick’s baby sister, Megan joined us and our peaceful trip became a crowded affair.  While rock climbing, disaster struck—the rope snapped, and all five of us plummeted into the river below. The brothers rushed frantically to save Megan, leaving Sarah and me at the mercy of the river’s current, battered and tossed like driftwood. By the time the rescue team pulled us from the water, we were bruised, scraped, and utterly spent. In the hospital, Megan and I received devastating news that would change everything.  “You’ve been pregnant for 40 days, Ma’am. How could you put yourself in such a risky situation? Your baby survived, but your friend lost hers.” Shaken, I called Matthew to tell him about the pregnancy. His anger cut through the line. “You’re angry that I went to Megs first and now you’re trying to fool me with a fake pregnancy? She’s my sister—it’s my duty to protect her!” Sarah faced her own storm. Patrick practically scoffed at her grief. “Miscarriage? Do you expect me to believe that? The doctors said you only had a 30% chance of conceiving. I can’t stand women who create drama out of nothing.” Both calls ended abruptly, leaving us stunned as we stared at each other in the sterile light of the hospital room. In that shared silence, we made our decision—we would leave these men behind and start anew, launching a business together. But when the brothers received our divorce papers, they showed up at my door in the middle of a storm, kneeling in the pouring rain, crying through the night for a second chance.

Jada prayed and asked God to provide a miracle that would be a solution to her family’s problems. They had always been poor, but this was the worst situation they had ever been in. Her father had to be taken to the hospital two weeks ago, and she had become the sole provider for their home. Marilou had given them what money she had that she could to help, but she wasn’t exactly rolling in money herself. The young girl had a huge responsibility placed upon her shoulders, but she was determined not to lose their home or have the children sent to foster care. She had been waiting tables and using her tips to buy gas and groceries, but it was barely enough most days. Her paycheck had not been enough to pay all the bills since her father had let them get so far behind. Mrs. DeRoya cleared her throat, signaling that she would answer the girl. “Miss Pence, I only had one child, my son Brayden here. My husband was also an only child. So, unless Brayden produces an heir, our bloodline here in the United States is lost. What we need is a surrogate to carry the child. If you sign the contract, when the child is born you will receive one million dollars to take your siblings and go have a good life,” she said, staring at her without emotion.

I worked for a restaurant, and our boss loved making empty promises about giving us restaurant shares. The boss said we would start with zero shares, but we could earn 0.01% for every two hours of overtime, covering someone else’s work or saving the restaurant 1,000 bucks. I suggested she write this down in an official document and have someone track it properly. She just smiled and told everyone to work harder. She never actually put it in writing. The experienced staff did not believe her, but one prep cook took it seriously. At the end of the year, he went to the boss to claim his shares. The boss said, “Sorry, the head chef told me there’s no official document, so it doesn’t count. You can’t claim any shares.” The prep cook worked hard all year and got nothing for it, so he took his anger out on me. The day before I was going home for the New Year, he killed me with a knife. “If you hadn’t said it doesn’t count without an official document, this whole restaurant would’ve been mine!” I lay in a pool of blood. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the day the boss first made those empty promises.

Every year, my husband, Daniel Trahan, elopes with his childhood sweetheart, Callie Reed, on our wedding anniversary. On that day, they do everything that a loving couple does. On our fifth year anniversary, Daniel ordered me to put on a maid's outfit and serve them on hand and foot for 24 hours. "You've always wanted me to spend more time with you, right? I'm giving you a chance right now. Tomorrow, I'll come home and have one meal with you. "By the way, Callie's lower back hurts. You'll have to support her whenever she needs you." I complete all of my tasks obediently. When we meet up the next day, I hand him a divorce agreement. Daniel scoffs at the sight. Then, he drops his signature casually. "Oh? Are you playing hard to get again? Every time, you'll end up begging me to return to you while crying like an abandoned pet. If you're that eager to let everyone see how big a doormat you are, I shall grant your wish. "When you come crawling back to me this time, I'll stream the whole thing live so that everyone can see how spineless you are." Daniel thinks I'm throwing another tantrum this time. What he doesn't know is that the day of his elopement with Callie is also the day I get to go on my private date. Now, that lover of mine demands a proper title from me.

“Arky please don’t...” he tried to grabbed him on his waist as to prevent him from leaving. “Zad, I can’t! This is totally wrong man...” Arkael tried to reason out. “I... I’m going to be insane if I’m with you! Let’s treat each other as strangers from now on...” he added as he took his large strides leaving Zadkiel behind. Two successful CEOs of the two biggest companies in UN state was bound to meet. Arkael Mitchel Casimiro was publicly known to be a married man while Zadkiel Axton Mortel was rumored to be a cold and heartless bachelor. Join me as we travel together to discover their hidden secrets and fullfil their confusions. Hope you guys like this!

Amara Larkspur and I have been dating for seven years. But she claims that she's sick of me, so she quickly finds herself a younger lover. I don't kick up a fuss at all. All I do is throw away the engagement ring and take down the decorations of the proposal venue. After that, I leave the city where I got my heart broken. All of Amara's friends keep speculating just how long it'll take me to crawl back to her this time. After all, everyone thinks of me as her ultimate simp. However, this time, I never return to her side. Amara finally panics and calls my number. "Ryan Crawford, if you don't return to me right now, we'll break up for real!" But all she hears is a feminine voice that lets out a soft titter. "Ryan is bathing at the moment. I can help you pass the message if you'd like."

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

'No matter what, No matter the time, No matter the place, No matter the century, No matter what's to come, I. will always. CHOOSE. YOU'. Everyone saw her as crazy..... But he saw her as nothing less than perfection. ................... "Why?" was the only thing he said. Confused I asked "Why what?" "Why do you always do this to yourself?" the tone in which he spoke almost seemed like he was heartbroken about something. "Do what?" I dared to ask, although I knew already within me I wouldn't like his response. "Conceal your worth" ....................... If you like this small insight of the story then please read on. The only thing I can guarantee you in this story is that it will definitely have an happy ending although for the two characters Rica and Dili to achieve that, they would have too pass through many difficult obstacles on their way to happiness. And trust me this isn't your normal Teenage story that is filled with rainbows and sunshine, there are a lot of gloomy days. If you don't mind that then please by all means do read on. .................. NOTE: This is a pure work of fiction. An original story by me. Buy me coffee? https://ko-fi.com/missrina

A great pulchritude named Linda had been into an arranged marriage with Charles,a cute playboy . They are both binded to it by their parents but it seems they would be given the opportunity to walk out of it in search of true love.

On the day Luke Smith attended his dear friend's funeral with his child, the media swarmed around me, questioning if I was the child's biological mother.Luke Smith, the high-society sensation, adored by all.For seven years, I was his secret lover, and how he spoiled me was the talk of the town.But eventually, he said, "Hazel, she's just a minor celebrity. What makes her think she can marry into the Smiths?"Indeed, his later wife, hailing from a prestigious lineage, epitomized grace and charm. Her only flaw was her inability to bear children.Facing eager reporters, I smiled, "I hardly know Mr. Smith. With that said, I wish him and his wife a lifetime of happiness and a joyful family."The news quickly went viral online.That very night, Luke Smith, disheveled and troubled, embarked on a long journey to San Anglos with his child.