Past Lives Couldn't Ever Hold Me Novels & Stories

"Yeah and it's harder to believe you, I mean weren't you obsessed with ending my brothers career? what if this is some plan of yours to pull him and Asher apart?" "I am over that phase, God I'm so done with that, I'm trying to start my life afresh but I keep seeing things that are dragging me to the past, to my past, a past that I happen to share with all of you in this room, so unfortunately I cannot move on ".

Ivy I used to think the past was like an old photo album—something you could close, tuck away on a shelf, and only pull out when you felt nostalgic or brave enough to revisit. But I was wrong. The past doesn’t stay in albums. It lives in your bones. It shows up when you least expect it. In quiet moments. In loud ones. In love. In fear. In the cracks between who you were and who you’re trying so desperately to become.

She touches my arm. “You’re marred with scars, inside and out,” she gripped my arm. I slowly remove it. “It’s the past, nothing can be done about it now.” “Yes, it’s in the past, but you’re not living, you’re stuck in it.” “How dare you presume such things?” I said, venom dripping from my voice.

I screamed and cried as if the world would end tomorrow. Everything that has happened felt like a bomb aimed at my chest. I could barely breathe, as if there’s a hole inside my heart. It was painful and frustrating like I was slowly losing myself. Why is this happening? Am I a bad person in my past life? Am I being punished? I don’t know what to do. I just want to forget and disappear. No one is on my side. No one is here to help me. I’m alone, just by myself. “Mom…”

“Good morning. When I was fourteen, I thought my life was over. I won’t go into detail—but I’ll say this: I experienced something that changed me. It broke me in ways I didn’t understand at the time. For a while, I thought that was all I would ever be—broken. But somehow, I kept moving. One step. One breath. One decision at a time. And now, here I am—standing before you, somehow not just surviving, but thriving. Not despite what happened, but because I refused to let it define me. If you take one thing from my words today, let it be this: Your past does not disqualify you. It may shape you, yes. But it does not cancel your future. Each of us is carrying something—loss, fear, doubt. But we ar

A day to make an entirely different decision, a start of something new and a new turn of events. I looked up at him, my eyes locked on him like I was daring him to spill those words that had destroyed my life in the past. The words he said to me that had taken everything I loved away. I remembered the girl I used to be, full of life and laughter, with dreams and aspirations but those words had changed everything when I agreed to it. After I had Caleb, he became the only reason that kept me going until he was taken away from me too. Even though it was in my past life, the pain still felt like an open wound, raw and bleeding.

I don't think I can be who I was made to be, I feel like it's too late to start over, I feel like no matter what, the past will always catch up. It catches up to me in different forms, in nightmares, in flashbacks to Vincent, Victor and even Vanilla and Caramel. I shouldn't have dragged Vanilla into this shit with me, she shouldn't be in my messed up and fucked up life, she deserves better, not me, a drug addict, an alcoholic, an orphan, a fucked up soul, a broken artist. She deserves better, she deserves someone who will adore and love her, and these things, sadly, I'm not capable of, and Kai, the beloved brother, the one who seem to think I'm redeemable, I can't do away with him, but I can

Her tone was firm and resolute, and I understood that she needed time alone. I watched her walk away, feeling a mix of sadness and determination. I knew that once she calmed down, I would need to speak with her again. I had to explain everything—about our past, about the rebirth, and about the events that had changed everything between us. I was aware that she might still believe I was responsible for her death in our previous life, and I had to assure her that I never meant to hurt her. Those few minutes when I saw her lifeless body in the past were among the most agonizing moments of my life; the memory still haunted me, even as I tried to make amends.

Those very words were now echoing in my head. “You’re stronger than I ever was.” Tears rushed down my face. Warm and sharp. I’m strong. I can’t die. Not like this. This version of me, broken and trembling and voiceless, died with my father. I broke off from this horrible past the moment he took his last breath. She was gone and she wasn’t coming back. I braced myself. Dug my nails into my thighs. Grounded myself in the pain. I brought myself back to the present. I forced a gush of breath in and held it. Then I let it out again.

This didn’t happen in my past life. I felt the familiar, bitter venom of my past life rising in my throat. In that life, no one had fought for me. No one had even looked at me unless they needed a blood sample or a signature. I had been a ghost long before I died on that table. Even if I hadn't accepted his offer back then, I couldn't understand this—this intensity, this desperation to keep me close.