Regretful Reads Novels & Stories

“I regret holding back on everything I wanted to say and do with you, Daniel. I regret letting all those years pass us without enjoying your love or experiencing all the things you promised to give me and do for me. Yes, I regret not cuddling you at night and all those moments when I pushed you away even though I wanted you to be beside me. I regret that I rejected the flowers you sent me and the teddy bears and I feel like having you back right now so you could do them for them for me again. “I missed your warm touch and how you make me feel, and I feel like removing your trouser and having you fuck me here and now. I regret not sharing my sex fantasies with you or trying them with you. I f

I wonder again and again how I could have been so blind, how I could hurt the only woman who has loved me with all her being. My nights are filled with nightmares and shattered dreams. I close my eyes and see Melek's face, I see how her gaze transforms into disillusionment and hopelessness. I torture myself with the memory of her tears, her words of pain and rejection. Every tear she has shed is a reminder of my failure as a man and a lover. I bitterly regret my actions, of abandoning her and denying her the happiness she deserved. Regret is like a fire burning within me, consuming any trace of tranquility. I wish I could turn back time, erase my mistakes, and do things right, but I know I c

This is not an update. I want to use this opportunity to thank every one of you, my dearest and sweetest readers who took the time to read, comment, and gift my book. Thank you all so much, I appreciate you guys. As you all know, we have come to the end of My Ex-Husband’s Regret. Yippee!!!! (I hope you enjoyed the journey of the story) Yeah, this is the end guys but does that mean the end for you and me? No, I will be writing another book soon and I would love to have you guys as my readers again.

There was no turning back now. I stood there, watching her for a moment, searching for something—anything—that would make me stay. But the words refused to come. Instead, I turned and walked away, leaving behind the only woman I had ever loved. As I drove back to the mansion, I waited for a sense of relief. But it never came. The weight in my chest grew heavier with every passing mile, a suffocating reminder of what I was losing. No, this wasn’t a relief. It was a regret. Pure, unfiltered regret.

Rowan's words shattered my heart completely. I let out a bitter laugh, turned, and walked away without looking back. Someone once told me that promises were the most useless things in the world—what mattered was action. I never believed it before, but now, I did. I took a cab to the Rivers, planning to see Patrick and leave after that. Halfway there, I received a video call from Jeremy Harding. "Angela, look at the tulips by the side of the road—they're so beautiful. Coriland is amazing. Are you really not coming back?"

“Jensen… sorry…” Her eyes were red as she raised her hand and slapped herself. “I am sorry… I regretted it for the past three years… please forgive me. Please look at me one more time…” I rolled down the window halfway and looked at her with a cold expression. “Chelsea, do you think it is appropriate to say this in front of my wife? Do not come near me and disgust me again. I do not want to see you. Do not insult the word regret. You do not deserve it.”

“You regret me, admit it.” I stare down at him. “Every day.” The wind howls through the broken roof, scattering dust across the floor. The smell of salt and rust fills the air, thick and cold. Ariana steps closer, her voice trembling but fierce. “He regrets every choice that brought us here. But you, you don’t regret anything, do you, Adrian?” He laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Regret is for people who lose.” “Then you must be drowning in it,” she says sharply.

Caleb's finger had been cut by the metal edge of the gift box, and blood was seeping out. But he seemed to feel no pain, just staring blankly at my ring. "Uncle… he treats you very well," Caleb murmured, his voice thick. "Cliff roses, pink diamond rings, moonstone necklaces…" "He gives you everything I couldn't." I was silent for a moment, not quite understanding the depth of his regret. "Caleb, you chose to refuse two years ago," I said calmly. "It's too late to regret it now." "I know," Caleb gave a wry smile. "I just wanted to prove that I could also…"

“They mean it. You don’t get in unless the Gate’s fed.” “Fed what, exactly?” one of the teenagers whispered, though we all knew. “Regrets,” the older woman said. “The deep ones.” Jax grimaced. “Of course. Emotional damage DLC.” I stared at the text. “One regret… per person?” I asked. “Or do we—do we share? Is this like group therapy where only one person has to cry for everyone to go home early?” As if in answer, fresh script bled into existence below the first line, letters forming in a slow, deliberate scrawl:

I think that grocery store brawl rattled him more than he wants to admit. Ashton still has about an hour of work left when I finish everything, so I sit at my desk and g****e “regret in art.” And then I find it. An illustration by Emiliano Ponzi called Divorce with Regret—a woman hugging the outline of a man who isn’t really there. The emotion hits me in the gut. It’s haunting and honest, and suddenly, I think I might actually have a concept. By the time Ashton walks into the bedroom, I’ve made a folder of regret poetry, a regret-themed Spotify playlist, and a list of books to borrow from the library (whenever that’s an option again).