Novel & Cerita Rekindled Heartache Books Romance

“Pain knows no gender or age “ I remind myself. I realize immediately how much I need this Therapy, earlier today I made a decision not to see the Therapist ever again because it has always been a struggle to open up or revisit old memories. My therapist says I’ll heal in due time but firstly, I’d have to admit to myself that I am really hurt and also willing to get better. I tried to stay so busy all day so there is no spare time to ponder on everything that has been going on, but some thoughts are hard to avoid. I am stuck between the feeling of gratitude that I have my first love back with me and regretting her return because it’s opening up already almost healed wounds. I guess I need

His smile was alluring, which caught me flying to the hill. “Jas, I can't stop thinking about you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Believe me, it's from this amazing heart,” he hit my hand on his chest. “This heart throbs faster each time you come into the picture. I couldn't control it. I have tried all I could, but still, it's you. Thank goodness you are looking at me; I am filled to the brim,” he said. But then I felt nothing for him. My heart couldn't stop wanting Earnest. Now I have found a perfect guy, it's so hard to let go of Earnest. Why is my heart so stiff to fall in love again? What did Earnest do to me that makes my heart find it difficult to recognize other

Her lips part just slightly. And then I kiss her. It’s not soft. It’s not hesitant. It’s everything. It’s six years of ache and almosts and midnight what-ifs. It’s every letter I never sent, every night I whispered her name into an empty room. Her hands find my chest and curl there, not pushing me away but just anchoring herself, like she needs proof that this is happening, that I’m here. Our mouths find a rhythm that only we could know; urgent and tender and impossibly familiar. She tastes like wine and lemon tart, and something so purely Aria that it nearly undoes me.

A loneliness so familiar it felt like my own. “I’m back,” he said quietly, as if confessing a sin. And something in me seventeen year old me, twenty six year old me, all the versions in between, ached with the same impossible thought: I’m glad. But I didn’t say it. Not yet. Because slow burn love is not a match struck in daylight. It is a candle protected from wind, lit again and again, until it finally becomes a hearth.

“I’m saying that I’d like to, and I’m asking you if I can.” Nick gazed at her, his throat getting tighter with every passing second. He nodded, since speaking was impossible at that moment. She nodded back, then dropped her eyes to his left leg. So impossibly gently, she ran her fingers down his leg, ran them over his knee, ran them over the rounded end of the stump. She skimmed his scars, her touch as light and soft as a butterfly, followed the curve of flesh and bone. Her touch was healing and giving and generous, and Nick could have sworn that he felt her love for him just pouring out through her fingertips. She was accepting him in ways and to depths that Nick hadn’t dared let himself ho

Thank God she’s not been flirty today, her normal crazy behavior, I really don’t get why she and Jean got back together, not like I support broken relationship but my intuition still tells me she isn’t the right one for him. “Of course, I would not miss this event for anything.” “This decoration is perfect, your woman’s incredibly good.” “Ohh yes, Emerson did all these.” “Which Emerson? you mean Emerson, your ex? The same one from high school?”Marilla asked in surprise. “Yes, we reconciled and let love take the wheel all over again.” “You really did that? going back to your ex?” She scoffed and looked at me with disgust. I didn’t pay much attention to her words, no one opinion counted or mad

“I always loved you. I don’t want you to suffer.” “I wish you were real,” I told her, chest heavy. Then, unable to maintain distance anymore, I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. I kissed with all of my withheld passion. Years of it. Rekindling the flames that had burned when she had been alive. I tangled myself around her, as her arms curled around my neck. I licked my tongue into her mouth, tasting her as I remembered. She hummed and moaned, then even gasped a little.

Then, slowly, he lifts his gaze to hers. Her pupils tremble. Her lips part slightly in shock. Something inside him cracks. Memories flood him — of that night he’s tried so hard to forget, of her warmth, her tears, her trembling breath against his neck. His heart hammers painfully in his chest. Before he can stop himself, he closes his eyes and deepens the kiss. It’s gentle at first, uncertain — a brush of warmth and hesitation — but it soon grows hungry, desperate, as if he’s drowning and she’s the only thing keeping him alive.

I was standing close to the staircase, still frozen in place by her beauty, when I heard a sharp gasp. Without thinking, I surged forward and suddenly, she was in my arms. Gasps rippled through the hall, but all that blurred in comparison to the feeling that currently consumed me. She was in my arms. Warm, real and so devastatingly close. And she’d never felt so right. Her amber eyes stared into mine, wide and disoriented. And in that moment, I was drowning, falling over again, lost in their fiery depths. The fire I’d sworn I’d buried long ago was reigniting with every second she remained in my embrace.

He didn’t glance my way, but I could tell something was off—his shoulders were tense, his jaw rigid. “Where were you?” I asked, softly. He didn’t respond. Just slipped off his coat and tossed it carelessly onto the sideboard. “You haven’t eaten—” “I’m not hungry.” His tone was sharp. Dismissive. “I just... wanted to spend some time—” He turned. “Why? So you can sit there and watch me like some lovesick puppy?” The words stung. My throat tightened. “I’m your wife, Jaxon.” He walked toward me, slow and deliberate. Then, without warning, he yanked the book from my hands and tossed it aside. The thud echoed like a slap.