Pining Over Someone Novels & Stories

During and after every training session, I hunt for Phantom, desperate for even the briefest glimpse. Pathetic, I know. His absence convinces me he’s either out of town or simply excels at avoiding me. By Wednesday morning, the ache of missing him gnaws so deep I’m certain I’m going berserk. He haunts my dreams almost nightly, and in daylight every face I see blurs into his. I wonder if girls normally pine for boys who don’t want them, or if this cruel insanity is mine alone.

Three. The ringing seemed to mock me, each unanswered ring a nail in the coffin of my hope. I called again, and again, and each attempt met with the same hollow silence. Tears pricked my eyes, blurring the city lights outside my window. Was this it? Was I doomed to watch our love story fade into memory, forever haunted by the picture of what could have been? Desperate, I sent a message, a plea poured out into the digital void. "Leo, it's me. Please, just talk to me."

so I had. It didn't matter where I went, what I did, my thoughts always turned to Gray. Every time I set foot outside, I hoped I'd run into him, and I prayed for a glimpse of him. I begged God for one more day with him, one more chance to be what he needed me to be. Every couple I saw together had set off the waterworks. Each time my phone rang, I hoped it was him, only to be let down when I saw the caller ID-same thing with texts. I dreamed about him, wrote him unsent letters, and basically, I obsessed quietly. Nothing made sense without him, and there was a gaping hole in my being. Without him, I didn't feel complete. Thinking about it caused tightness in my chest and a wave of panic that

God, I missed him already. I grabbed my phone and opened his contact. For ten minutes, I just stared at his name, praying for a text. "Are you sleeping peacefully without me, Sir?" I whispered to the screen. Thirty minutes passed. Then an hour. The screen stayed dark. "Have you already forgotten I exist?" I asked the silence, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. I’d never thought I was capable of this kind of madness over one person. Against all reason, I was still hoping he’d chase me—even though I knew he was supposed to marry someone else. Two hours later, my phone finally vibrated violently. My heart leaped into my throat, and I answered instantly. "Hello!"

“Well, then you need to either tell him how you feel or get over him. This pining thing? It’s not cute anymore. You deserve better than being a silent spectator in his life.” But I couldn’t tell him. Because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if I lost him entirely? ******** If I close my eyes and let my mind drift, it’s always Vihan I find at the heart of my memories, his laughter woven into every cherished moment of my life. It’s not just the milestones that stand out—it’s the little things, the teasing remarks, the stolen glances, and the way he’s always been there, oblivious to the havoc he wreaks on my heart.

Yet, here I am, pacing the living room, feeling trapped in my own thoughts, wondering how I got to this point. I glance at my phone, half-hoping for a text from her, a little reminder that she’s thinking of me too. But the screen remains dark, and I let out a frustrated sigh. I can’t keep waiting for her to validate my feelings. Maybe I need to confront this… whatever it is that’s blossoming between us, even if that means tearing down the walls I’ve so carefully constructed.

Why it was that whenever I need someone, they all were busy? Hearing a ping tone, I opened my phone, waiting to see if it was Aryan but was only met by disappointment. One more message. One more need to go to trash. I shouldn't bother reading it, knowing too well what it meant. But sometimes, I think I like driving myself too far, a point where I wouldn't be able to reach back.

I tried to shake off the feeling, reminding myself that she was probably just busy and would call back soon. I paced back and forth near the entrance, checking my phone every few seconds. Time seemed to slow down as I waited, the minutes stretching into an eternity. My mind raced with worry, unable to focus on anything else. The laughter and chatter of other diners around me became an indistinct hum as my thoughts fixated solely on Christine.

Third Person's POV "Refusing to accept failure, blaming others, thinking luck's always bad, feeling unbalanced and resentful. Wanting to outdo someone, scheming to regain an upper hand and win others' respect," Penelope said, shaking her head slowly. Her voice was calm, like a gentle breeze. "But why obsess over this? Even if you surpass that person, will they suddenly become miserable? Will your victory bring you joy? No. Their happiness doesn't concern you, and yours isn't their business. You're not even a blip on their radar, yet they haunt your thoughts daily. Isn't that contradictory?"

As Peter and I sat off to the side, watching them laugh and chat, a tangle of emotions stirred within us. The scene was heartwarming, yet there was an undeniable sense of loss. Here we were, two grown men, holding our glasses, sitting on the fringes of this cozy gathering, as if the world had forgotten about us. Peter let out a heavy sigh. "Why does it feel like I'm drifting further away from my own precious one?" His gaze lingered on Nick and Neil, a hint of sadness in his eyes.