Shattered Glass Novel Novels & Stories

But to Adrian, it probably meant something. My fingers tightened. I thought about Leo. About the scar under my shirt. About Marcus saying I was getting too close, losing focus. About Aurora Winters dying alone on a bedroom floor. My hand opened. The glass fell. It hit the hardwood with a crack that split the silence. Crystal exploded. Shards scattered across the floor, glittering like diamonds. I stood there. Staring at the destruction. A laugh bubbled up. Small at first. Then bigger. I had broken his glass. His special, precious glass.

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

Of something fragile and hopeful I'd crushed beneath my heel. The glass was heavy in my other hand. I lifted it, not in a toast, but in a gesture of utter futility. The amber liquid caught the dying light from the window. Free. With a sudden, violent surge of rage and despair, I hurled the glass against the stone fireplace. It exploded in a shower of crystal shards and whiskey, the sound shockingly loud in the silence. The liquid dripped like blood down the pale stone. I stared at the wreckage. The shattered glass. The spreading stain. The divorce papers. The ring.

The glass shattered, shards falling like rain. Behind me, Kavin exhaled. “You’ve gotten cold.” I wiped the blood off my cheek. “No. I’ve gotten clear.” By 3 a.m., the floor was a graveyard. The last of Glass knelt in a circle of smoke and silence. “Burn it,” I ordered. Kavin lit the fuse. Flames swallowed everything—files, bodies, ghosts. The reflection in the broken mirrors looked like fire wearing my face. That was the moment my stomach turned. Not guilt—something sharper, lower, alive. A twisting beneath my ribs. I pressed a hand against it, breath catching.

However, with this type of glass, have you ever placed your face against it, squint your eyes deeply, and crafted your hand like a shield over your forehead, trying to peek inside? I bet you haven’t. But that was exactly what I did right now. And though it was somewhat dark, I was still able to catch a glimpse inside. But instead of seeing if they offered good services or not, I saw something else—something that shattered me into several broken pieces, like a fallen jar dropped from a skyscraper.

The kind of engines that don’t do idle; they lurk. The long-awaited verdict never came. The gavel in puffy manicured hand with age spots froze halfway down. Then the windows shattered, a burst of light and noise came in so fast it felt like God had gotten drunk and emptied his ashtray on us. Automatic fire tore through the stained glass window—saints, angels, and devils all shredded into a rain of colored shards. The saints fell hardest and shattered in smallest pieces. They always do.

He reaches for me. "Don't touch me!" I grab the nearest thing. A cheap glass vase filled with dead flowers. I throw it. I don't aim for them. I aim for the floor between us. SMASH. The glass explodes. Shards fly everywhere, glittering like diamonds in the dim light. Water splashes onto Aureliano’s expensive shoes. Silence drops like a guillotine. They stare at the broken glass. They stare at me. I am heaving. My chest is tight. My hands are shaking.

Before going i saw my reflection in the mirror and whispered to myself, “Damn, your girl looks so fine. I’m not about to play with this position.” In about 10 minutes, I arrived at Vans and Sterling Company — and boy, this place was flashy. From the security men dressed in all black uniforms who happily opened the doors for me, to the gleaming polished floors and sky- high walls, I instantly knew I hit the jackpot with this position. “Thank you, Jesus,” I whispered under my breath, fully aware that it was only through Him that I had gotten this spot.

The last thing I saw, right after the sharp pain stabbed into the back of my neck, was the icy, emotionless face of my brother, Sean Lawson. When I regained consciousness, I found myself trapped inside a huge glass box. My hands and feet were bound so tightly that I could not move at all. "Sean, you know I have claustrophobia! Please let me out!" I kept screaming, my voice breaking as I begged. Sean did not even look at me. Instead, he gently wiped the tears from Wendy Roberts' eyes.

Just like that. And in that moment, as I pressed my trembling hand against the locked door, I felt something inside me shatter. Not just love. Not just trust. But the last piece of the woman who once believed Ethan Smith was her forever.