Sans Crying Novels & Stories

Hannah's tone was gentle, as if she was just commenting about something trivial. "Then don't cry anymore. A girl's tears are precious and shouldn't be shed so easily. Don't cry over small matters anymore. Live a good life!" Nina was stunned. She opened her mouth only to let out a heartwrenching wail. She had never wailed so loudly or heartwrenchingly before in her life. She didn't care about how she looked in that instance or if her wailing would bother others. She also didn't care if her crying embarrassed her and made her the laughingstock of others.

My own tears were about to spill over. "If you're sad… you have to cry!" Lily's voice trembled. "You can't hold it in all by yourself!" Silence. Then— "I'm here…" Her crying didn't stop. "I'll be with you…" "So… it's okay…" "You can cry…" Silence. Long. Very long. Then— A small voice. Broken. Like something finally cracking. I hold my breath. And then— Crying. Softly. At first. Then growing clearer.

Broken Open Aria I didn’t cry prettily. I want to be clear about that because I’ve read enough books to know that women in stories cry in ways that are somehow still attractive — single tears, trembling lips, quiet dignity. That is not what happened to me on Caden’s couch at eight thirty in the morning. What happened was ugly and loud and completely without warning, the kind of crying that starts somewhere in your chest before your brain has finished processing what triggered it and arrives on your face as a full collapse before you can decide whether to let it.

It was the 20th floor, with Fifth Street's traffic streaming far below. Marco burst into tears on the spot. He lunged forward, grabbed me, and pulled me onto the carpet. He kneeled on the spot and repeatedly slapped himself. "I won't say those horrible things anymore, Lina. I'll send Fiora away for good so that she'll never appear before you again." I gave in once I looked at Marco's bruised and swollen face. It seemed like things between us had returned to normal, with him treating me with even greater devotion and care.

I clasped my hands together to keep them from shivering. I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry. I keep telling myself to start sniffling. I pinched my eyes shut and swallowed a sob that wanted to come out of me. Crying is never the solution to anything. It will just make me weak and that's not what I want now. I just need to be strong.

my snarky sub consciousness scold me without default. But apparently my mental freak out doesn't seem to bother him at all. I mean, it's not like I'm expecting it to but anything that would make this feeling disappear will do for now. Do I really want this feeling to disappear? "Strip". What? I blink twice. I'm not sure I heard it right. Laughter builds up in my throat and it ends up escaping my lips, rippling the silence and calm in the atmosphere. Tears pickle at the sides of my lids as my shoulders quake gently. I drop my bag on the vanity beside me and fold my hands beneath my chest.

I wanted to break free, to scream, but the lessons had taken that away from me too. *** I turned to see tears streaming down Lyron's face. “Please don't cry for me. It's just sad if you do.” “But–” “Shhh.” “O–ok,continue.”

He said in a reprimanding tone but his eyes told me he was just being sarcastic I didn't realized but then my hand immediately came to my cheeks,noticing them wet. When did it happened.I think in panic .But I don't cry easily,I'm used to seeing such situations. I immediately removed wetness from my cheeks almost blushing at my actions. I'm not crying and why would I cry for a jerk like you.Mother Earth would be glad to be free from such maniac. His mouth curved upwards a little. I'm not crying for you its just hospital shifts and all that stuff is stressing me out

“I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m sorry—” “Hey, hey, none of that.” Marcus’s hand stroked my hair, slow and soothing. “It’s okay. I understand. It’s normal, baby doll. Your body is just so overstimulated and emotional right now. All those different sensations—everything we just did to you, the way we filled you up, the intensity of it—it doesn’t know what to do with all of it. So it’s letting it out this way. Crying is how it’s adjusting. It’s fine. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

I'm afraid that if I do, tears won't only fall, but I'll break into a million pieces. Why isn't he getting out? I can feel his eyes on me, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Are you okay?” He asked, finally breaking the silence. His voice was rough, as if he had just woken up. “Y-yeah,” I said quietly. “Listen… about yesterday. I'm sorry if I scared you.” I nodded when he paused. It was so hard to fight back my tears that threatened to fall. “It's okay,” My voice was barely above a whisper this time. It was getting harder to keep my composure. I picked at my fingers, trying to distract myself, trying not to cry and break in front of him.