Saddest Books Novels & Stories

Other shelves have folktales, and even romance novels. “Since when have this library being here?” I marvel at its sheer size, joy swelling in my heart before a sudden pang grips my heart. Damon, my love, may never be able to see this library with me. When he's gone, we won't be able to read together, eat together or make love. The realization hits me hard, and I cry harder, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Sinking to the floor amid the books, I let the tears flow, the pain of living without him seems unbearable.

I had another hour before my next class so I just decided to go to the library and wait there because staying in one place somehow eases the pain. I walked into the library with a cup of black coffee in my hand. I walked to a quiet and secluded place and sat on a chair. I took a deep breath as I drank from my coffee. I took out my favorite book, The Notebook, from my bag and placed it on the desk. I can't count the number of times I had read the book. It has so much behind it, love, pain, sorrow, loss and grief. I cried the first time I read the book. I also cried the first time I watched the movie.

So after eating breakfast, which a girl bought to me, I was staring at the riddle. After no luck, I tried to match the riddle with my life. 'I am what sometimes bring you joy and sometimes sadness. I am what you consider useless after sometime. But I always leave an impact on you. And this time, im here with a secret. Who am I' What bought me happiness and sadness at the same time? Book. What did I consider useless after sometime? Myself. What leaves an impact on me? Book. Book: 2/3 Myself: 1/3

Follow, vote, comment and share... Lyka's P.O.V I didn't go to sleep the whole night as I just couldn't. The nightmares will return so I decided to go in the library. I have been seated for over five hours in the damn library with nothing to eat or drink as I read the old books and papers with a smell that makes me want to puke. My eyes have not dared to close on me as I read the thirtieth book. I have not found any useful information that can locate the blood moonstone and finish this once and for all.

I've probably embarrassed him. I lay down on the couch and curl up as I feel more tears fall down my face. I start crying and hug my arms around myself. I can't even call a friend over, everyone is busy at work. Fuck I'm so dumb. I can't even get comfy on here. Stupid couch. I turn the tv off and walk upstairs to our bedroom so I can just stay there for today and wallow. I climb under the covers and wrap them around my shoulders tightly to replicate Master's arms around me.

The room seemed to close in on her, amplifying her worry and frustration. Tears welled up in Hailee's eyes as she sank to the floor, overwhelmed by a sense of impending doom. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong, and the missing book only heightened her anxieties. Hailee's worries grew with each passing moment, leaving her with a profound sense of unease that gnawed at her very core.

I borrowed money from loan sharks and friends who probably pitied me more than they cared to admit. Then the emails stopped coming. Their office “relocated.” My books vanished. My money disappeared. And I was left drowning in debts and depression. Pretty sad, isn’t it? So there I was, choking, tears running down my face. I had thought about dying before, maybe jumping off a bridge, maybe something quicker, but I never imagined my life would end like this. They say when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. But all I could think about was the stupid book that ruined everything.

8. "Okay," Elion said. "Here's one from User BookWorm99. Five stars." "Read it." "This book destroyed me," Elion read. "I cried for three days. My mom asked if I was okay. Cale is the most tragic, beautiful character I've ever read. I want a Cale. Where do I find a Cale? Does A****n sell him?" Cale blinked. He looked genuinely confused. "She wants a Cale?" Cale asked.

The morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, casting fractured patterns on the floor — much like my thoughts, splintered and jagged. I sat at the small kitchen table, clutching my cup of cold coffee, staring at the leather-bound book *Reflections of the Forgotten* open before me. The stories inside weren’t just tales — they were warnings, lessons written in sorrow and hope. Women who had lived as shadows, trapped in lives borrowed from others, fighting to reclaim their own reflections.

“You’re too good for this world, you know that? But okay. We’ll figure out plan B.” I leaned back against the seat, staring out at the darkening sky. The anger simmered now, a slow burn toward the people who’d twisted my life into this mess. But underneath, the sadness weighed heaviest—a deep, aching grief for what Zayden and I had lost, or maybe never fully had. And the dilemma gnawed: hold on and hope, or let go before it broke me completely?