Saddest Books Ever Novels & Stories

He could no longer fool himself. Slowly, with infinite weariness, Aiden closed the leather-bound book. This was the end. He could no longer bear it. The books he loved so much could not push away the stark, raw loneliness of his existence. The study was lined with books, floor to ceiling on three of the four walls of the room. He had read every one, committed a great many to memory over the centuries. They no longer provided solace for his mind. The books fed his intellect but broke his heart.

"The greatest evil unknowingly resided in the womb of the greatest good ever known alive. Until that day. The darkness in her, choked away every light of hope and happiness from her eyes. " - Book 3 - The Annihilation 6 months later, The Werewolf Castle 11:59 pm

The book store was right around the corner, enough to let Amy get few minutes of alone time. "what kind of book should I buy? These romantic novels make me feel extremely miserable about my life", she whispered. "Maybe I am on another planet unlike the characters in these books because I have never felt that way about any man before." Truly it was tiring and exhausting reading these books. Apparently, they make her expect things she would never get from Jack, thereby leaving her heart broken.

It's really annoying, with so many things I can forget why my book is still there. At 11pm, after eating dinner I went up to my room again. I still can't move on from the book I left behind. My Mom noticed earlier that I looked sad so I told her the reason and she said that I shouldn't be sad because she will buy me a new one. But how? Based on the publishing company announcement there will be no second batch for that book. Haysst. It’s really annoying.

A strange idea had entered her distant mind while she sat quiet during the droning monologue of his funeral service. Before the funeral, she considered burning every last one of his papers. Damon had been so consumed with it that it kept him from sleep on many nights. Even when he did slide into bed, insomnia kept him fidgeting for an hour or more. It drove Anne to annoyance until Damon sprang up again to continue reading and speculating on that mythological obsession of his.

- he added in a calmer voice. Feeling more and more despair engulfing at the thought that Miguel had died because of her, Nadir had no more strength to struggle. Tears appeared in her eyes for the third time while being on the surface. She sank back down on the couch and hid face in her hands. Nadir felt powerless, and at once a feeling of emptiness and nonsense overwhelmed her. Nathaniel was right - she had no use to stay here - since Miguel was gone, she didn't care about anything else. So Nadir got up, wiping her tears away.

Selene felt that was about to find out about something very sad or even terrible. - When Isabelle was pregnant for four months...- Rita began again.-... she had a miscarriage. Nobody really knows why it happened. Isabelle took it hard and closed in on herself more than before. She didn't even speak to Johnathan for the first hundred years, but after that time he somehow managed to reach her heart again. But I... Well, I have already failed, no matter how much I tried, and now it is what it is. Isabelle limits herself to talking to her husband, and occasionally speaks at the Council of Sorceresses when, as one of the Big Three, has to help Elisabeth make the final decision. And that is it.- R

Maybe it was the approach of death for the second time that made me so calm, but my mind suddenly wandered to Patrick's locked room. I waded through the rising water and kicked the door open without hesitation. Inside, the room was filled—wall to wall—with memories of him and Victoria. I let out a dry, mocking laugh. In the past, I had only ever seen that kind of thing in TV dramas. I used to think it was romantic, so deeply emotional. Nonetheless, when my own husband was one doing it, all I felt was disgust. I walked further in and started looking through their shared belongings. There were gifts from their younger days—a watch, dried flowers, bracelets, and so on.

"I need something to occupy my mind, not sedate it, little bird. Something dramatic, passionate, maybe a classic tragedy." ​We paused in front of a section devoted to foreign literature. ​"How about Wuthering Heights?" I suggested, pulling the dense volume from the shelf. "All-consuming passion, deep obsession, and tragic consequences. A perfect distraction." ​He took the book from my hand as his fingers brushed mine. A contact that lasted a mere second but felt like an electric jolt. I immediately hid my hand behind me. He weighed the book in his hand, not looking at the title but at me.

Seven months later, I gave birth to twins—a boy and a girl. On their first birthday, I saw Harrison on the news. He had tried to sneak back into the country illegally, only for the plane to crash into the bay. I didn't attend his funeral. Instead, I quietly sent a single rose. That moment marked the last goodbye between us.