Quotes About Waiting For Him Novels & Stories

I had waited for someone once, for a very long time. Waited to be believed, waited for him to look back, waited for him to remember what he'd promised when we were young. Eventually I understood that the person who was truly meant for you wouldn't leave you bleeding at the door. He would come to you before you even asked, and he would tell you, when you were finally ready to try again, that he had already been waiting. And the one who let you go — let him stay in whatever story he was writing for himself.

"Something I want desperately but won't force." I set my tea aside, suddenly needing to move. Rising from my chair, I paced to the window, watching moonlight spill across the compound grounds. "Eight years is a long time to wait for something," I observed, my back to him. "Some things are worth waiting for." I turned to find him watching me with that intense focus that made me feel simultaneously exposed and protected. "What if I'm not what you've built up in your mind all these years? What if the reality of me disappoints?"

Something in my chest was breaking open. "I don't know how to let people in," I said. "I don't know how to trust. I don't know how to—" "Let me show you." His voice was soft. "One step at a time." I shook my head. "I'm not ready." "I know." "Then why are you still here?" "Because I've been waiting for fifteen years." His eyes met mine. "I can wait a little longer." ---

Just watched the world from above, two warriors lost in their thoughts. He broke the silence first. “Do you believe in second chances?” I glanced at him. “In love?” “In everything.” I considered it. “I didn’t used to. I thought people got what they earned. No more, no less. But… lately? I don’t know. Maybe we all need one.” He nodded slowly. “I think I’ve spent most of my life waiting for something. A sign. A mate. A reason. But maybe… I should’ve been looking for someone who makes me feel something.”

“I brought you here to ask you for something impossible.” His eyes burned into mine, the storm in them fully unleashed. “I’m asking you to wait.” I stared at him, stunned. “Wait? For what? A miracle?” “For me,” he said, his voice dropping to a raw, urgent whisper. “For me to find a way. To untangle myself from… from expectations. From the life that was planned before I ever met you. It won’t be fast. It won’t be easy. There will be… arrangements to make. Conversations to have. A lifetime of duty to navigate.” His thumbs stroked my arms through the fabric of my shirt, a soothing, distracting motion. “But I am asking you, if you can… to wait. To believe that I am trying. To believe that this,”

Everything was ready, the food was looking so appetizing and the whole wall was filled with the inscription "I'm sorry please give us another chance" I looked at myself in the mirror countless times making sure I looked good. Now it's time to await her arrival, one hour has passed so she'll be here from now on. I kept glancing at the door every moment waiting for her, one hour turned into two yet she's not here, three hours passed she's not yet here, I kept holding tightly onto the flower that I bought for her hoping she walks in through the door any moment from now Six hours yet she's not yet here, I'm still standing in the middle of the hall awaiting her, the door suddenly opened and I rai

If even a flicker of hope remained, she wouldn't have ended things so decisively. Her eyes reddened as Rosamund escorted her inside. Her phone kept buzzing nonstop with endless well-wishes. "Orson is total husband material. With a man like him, you'll be the happiest bride tomorrow." "Wishing you both a lifetime of love and happiness." "I've been rooting for you two since college. You made me believe in love again. Maude, you deserve all the happiness in the world." … Among the messages was one from Orson. "Honey, I'll be home by 8:00 pm. Please wait for me, okay?"

He looked at me with the expression he wore when he was choosing his words with real care. "I have been waiting for two years," he said. "Not strategically. Not because I calculated that waiting was the right move." He paused. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you and I didn't know where you were. Waiting was the only option I had." He held my gaze. "I have time, Lyra. I have as much time as you need. I mean that completely." The way he said it, without performance, without the particular emphasis people used when they wanted credit for their patience, just plainly, like stating a fact about himself that happened to be true.

Hawthorne looked at them, he was now serious. "I did get to wait a few hundred years, didn't I? Do you think I can't do that now?" He laughed nonchalantly. "I will wait for years until she accepts me. I will wait for another year until she falls for me and I still wait for more years until she remembers everything."

“Who’s going to tell him that ‘the one’ isn’t going to magically waltz into his life? He actually has to talk to people before he can figure out who she is.” I burst out laughing. “Well, he’s still got time.” I said, trying to soften the teasing. “He’s young. I think it’s better not to rush these things. The longer you wait, the sweeter the fruit when it finally ripens.” Alexander gave me a strange look. His expression shifted. “I don’t think so.” His voice had suddenly become more serious. “Sometimes waiting too long isn’t a good thing.” He looked away. “It. . . it can also make you lose what you already had.”