Shattered Glass How I Met Your Mother Novels & Stories

“Ohhh, you are one to talk, you were sleeping with your secretary while I was carrying your child!” I hear them loud and clear. And No, knocking wouldn’t be necessary. I open the door and walk into my parents' shattered room. Not just that it’s emotionally shattered, it’s also physically shattered. There are shattered glasses on the floor and a throw pillow with the inside all over the ground. My mom's face is burning red, for a black woman, you should know what that means. “Baby…” she reaches for me as she tries to avoid stepping on the glasses. She gives me a long, sorrowful hug, and I just can’t wait for it to end. Finally, she pulls off.

"Whoa, you're so lucky! Your mom and dad are both so good-looking. They look perfect together!" Perfect together. I held the phone tight. My hands shook. "Maid," huh? I got up slowly and walked to the kitchen. Reached for a glass of water. The glass slipped from my hand. Shattered on the floor. I squatted to pick up the shards, my hands trembling. I didn't even feel the sharp edge that cut my palm. I just… broke. I sat there, on the cold tile floor, surrounded by broken glass. And I cried. Not for Finn. Not for Henry.

I shook my head and took a deep breath while rubbing my chest. "Relax, Monika... Ryan loves you and nothing can separate you from him. Relax." I muttered and poured water into a glass from a jug. My hands were shivering. After drinking water, I extended my hand to keep it on the table, but it slipped from my hand. I closed my eyes when the loud smashing sound of glass hit my eardrums. It was like it was replicating my situation. I'm just shattered like that broken glass and everything is falling apart from my hand. Maybe I have moved on with Ryan, but past trauma still haunts me and is snatching my happiness. There is a fear in my heart that the house I built with Ryan is made of glass, whic

Glass scattered across the floor like broken memories. He wasn’t supposed to be the one. Never. He shouldn't have done this to me. Matteo? Sure. He loses his temper on cue. Eli? He’s still learning who to trust. But me? I’m the one who keeps the house standing when it shakes. I’m the one who sees through the masks. Except I didn’t see his. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the wreckage, breathing hard. Shards of glass pricked my palms but I didn’t move.

ONE WEEK LATER They say time heals, but no one mentioned how slowly it crawls when the world you once lived in turns it back on you. It had been a long, slow draining week for me as I had lived in rewind— replaying every mistake, every word and all the moments that led me here. My mum never mentioned what had happened. Not even for once. I don't even think we have exchanged glances since then. Well, apart from the normal daughter-to-mother greeting that we exchanged.

My frustration builds, rising and rising until my carefully maintained control finally cracks. The crystal glass leaves my hand, and I watch as it shatters against the wall, brown liquid coloring my white walls. I’m losing my goddamn mind. Crouching to collect the scattered glass, I replay every conversation from that afternoon for the hundredth time. The questions about her morning routine with Harry had made her smile. But when I asked about her childhood, about her father... The sharp edge of a jagged glass bites into my thumb, and I watch as blood pools before the wound begins healing almost immediately—werewolf metabolism working overtime to repair the damage.

I said. She didn't answer. She just stared back at me with those broken eyes, mocking me. She was a twisted reflection of everything I'd lost and everything I'd let touch me. Killian, Vincent. All of it. Tears blurred my vision. My fingers clenched tighter around the glass. I raised it without thinking and hauled it at the silver surface of the mirror. The glass shattered against the mirror, several shards scattering on the floor. Cracks spiderwebbed through the silver surface, slicing through my reflection until it was in pieces. Like me.

Silence again. Did everyone just decide to go MIA? I turned on the lights to get a better view. I gasped as I took in the view before me. There were pieces of broken glass on the floor and my mother’s favourite figurine had also been smashed. My breath almost stopped when I saw something that looked like blood on some pieces of the glasses. Did we get attacked by rogue wolves?

He also helped me eat the awful tuna sandwich the nanny always made me while Dad was too busy with his evangelical outreach in the small town or too overwhelmed by grief to notice that I needed him more than ever before. I enjoyed sneaking out to play with him. His name was… J It was…J A sharp pain suddenly travels from the back of my head to my temples. “Ow!” The living room tilts to the left. My knee knocks over the vase on one of the small side tables. It shatters. The sound rings in my ears. “Hey…” Matthew grabs a hold of me. Blinking, I look at the shards of glass on the floor. Then I raise my head.

And I smashed it on the floor. The metal base cracked. The golden upper part broke off and bounced across the room. He didn’t move. I grabbed the family portrait next. The one of him, my father, my mother, and me when I was four. I threw it against the wall. Glass shattered into glittering pieces. Still he didn’t speak. My breath grew wild, uneven, angry. A vase sat on the coffee table. I snatched it up and slammed it down. It exploded into tiny shards.