Seven Hearts Novels & Stories

CHAPTER ONE Two sleek black sports cars pulled up in front of Pizzeria Da Laura. Two guards swiftly exited the first car, with one opening the door for a young, handsome man dressed in a black suit. His expression was unreadable, and he seems to be emitting a powerful aura. The man is none other than Richard Roberts, the third offspring of the third wealthiest clan in California. A charming, fair lady emerged from the other side of the car and rushed towards him, intertwining her hands with his and giving him a peck.

My heart skipped a beat, my tears moist right then. I dropped to a crouch and held him, pressing my ear against his chest again. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping powerfully through his thin shirt. It was such a familiar sensation. It was Stan's heartbeat. As I closed my eyes, my tears flowed ever so quietly. We stayed like that for a while, and as I wiped my tears, I held Nathan firmly in my arms once more. "Please live a good life with Stan's heart." - Nathan walked with me to the gates of the orphanage, but I never once turned to look at him again.

It's like a stab to the chest, leaving you in a state of unrest. The worst part is when they don't even care That's the most painful thing to bear. Sometimes they love someone else. That's a different type of hell. Waiting, watching and searching for clues , If you'll ever be able to make them yours. Mahendra could only stare at her as she recited the poem. At her eyes and at her lips. He was mesmerized by her. Internally, he felt beyond happy that she left Vikram. His arm was still around her waist and he wanted it like that.

staggered slightly, catching himself before falling. “It’s all of them,” he whispered. “Every message, every voice, every choice they tried to bury.” Lena stepped closer, eyes wide as she looked into the expanding grid. “This is what they were afraid of,” she said. “Not the Heart itself—the connection it creates.” Adrian nodded, feeling the truth of it pulse through his veins. The Heart wasn’t just a piece of technology. It was alive in a way no machine should be. It didn’t store data; it remembered. It carried echoes of intention, emotion, history. And now, it was showing them everything. The lights around them shifted, coalescing into shapes—faces, moments, fragments of the world outside.