Pining Over Someone Novels & Stories

No response. “I miss you. I miss you every day and it’s more painful than I can take. Every time I look at your pictures, I feel as though someone is stabbing my heart with needles. I can’t take it. You being in a place where I cannot see or talk to you just tears me apart and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.” A single tear fell down my cheek. “Just one more day. One day is what I’m asking for. Let me hold you just for one day and I promise it’s enough for me.”

Or what if he comes with another woman in his arms? If the last thought should happen, I'll be so pained and disappointed. I lie back in bed feeling so lazy to even do anything. By noon, I’ve checked my phone more times than I’m willing to admit. I'm still hoping, but nothing. No message. No missed call. No Hey, I got the gifts or Thank you or even a dry, polite acknowledgment. My chest tightens every time my screen lights up with a notification that isn’t him. My doorbell rings and my heart jumps up in anxiety.

Fuck. This pining is pathetic. She’s not mine. She’s not my mate. And it looks like she’s going to be dating Max. Who knows, maybe he’ll turn out to be her mate. For some reason the thought doesn’t make me burn with jealousy the way I expected. It just makes me feel hollow. Sad.

Keiran The most pathetic feeling ever is yearning to see the people that you can never see again. It's frustrating and it makes me feel so miserable. I see them every night, but they never talk to me and they never reach out to me. Each time I close my eyes, I'm drawn back to that night. The night where I watched them die. It haunts me every single fucking night. And the night that I don't see them, I find myself standing in front of a white door and Mom, Dad, and Kayla are always walking towards that door. I cry, I yell, and call out for them to come back, but they never stop. They don't even look at him.

Olvia pov My footsteps echoed through the house as I paced back and forth for the past hour, glancing at the clock every few seconds. Each tick felt like a reminder of my own impatience, a cruel metronome marking the time I spent waiting for someone who seemed to have forgotten about me. It made me feel pathetic, wondering what I was doing waiting around for a guy who clearly didn’t care about me. The memory of the earlier incident replayed in my mind, a loop of disappointment and frustration. I had rushed home, my heart racing. I hugged David's parents tightly, feeling the warmth of their love as I told them I was leaving.

A bone-deep pain instantly tore through my body. I let out a muffled gasp and collapsed onto the cold floor. Cold sweat drenched my back in seconds. I felt as though my soul was being torn apart. Yet, compared to the heartbreak from just moments ago, this pain felt much milder. With my gaze locked on the bone ring, I whispered to myself, "Just five more days, Tori Dawson. Five more days, and you'll be free from this ridiculous farce."

She does not have any other option except waiting for her husband. She was sitting on the window pane, looking at the stars. She said, rubbing her belly,”Viren, where are you? Please, come back. Our baby is waiting for you. I am waiting for you, please come soon.” The next day, Pia was watching TV, but she was thinking about Viren. She heard the doorbell, she got excited and stood up from the sofa. Whenever the doorbell rang, she thought it’s Viren and got excited, but always got disappointed.

Every fiber of my being screamed with frustration, the helplessness of the situation gnawing at my very core. I tried reaching out to Emily through our mindlink, desperately hoping for a glimmer of connection, a whisper of her presence. But it was as if that link had been severed, leaving me feeling hollow and incomplete. The emptiness I felt without her was a constant ache, a reminder of the void her absence had left in my life.

Not without Mom here to pull me out of it. Even though I’m not sleeping in the main house anymore, most nights I still opened the cabin door to check and see if she was on the other side. If we did have the sixth sense to feel each other, it seemed to be broken. She couldn’t feel how broken I was. She didn’t know how much I begged her to be on the other side of my door when I pulled it open in the middle of each night, how much I needed her and how much I hated it. Pippa sings along to a Nash Pierce song that’s been severely overplayed. I don’t know how she likes anything he releases, but she and Mare have been obsessed with him since they were teenagers, and he was still part of some silly

I felt hollow in the nights, wondering if she would ever look at me the same again. I tried to reach her. Every day, I stared at my phone. Every message left unsent, every call unmade. I didn’t want to push her away further, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling as I typed “Winter, please,” only to delete it. Over and over. Days passed.