She's Tired Of Being Strong Mga Nobela at Kwento

I laughed, She didn't, Was that a joke? ". . .and I'm just. . .Sad" She breathed out with fatigue "I'm sad, I'm tired, I'm tired of holding it together all the time, I'm tired of not being able to be tired, I'm so fucking tired of everything, the lies, the secrets, everything, it's chocking me, draining the little life I have out of me. I'm tired" She said, her head hanging low "Secrets?, Lies?" I asked confused

"He told me." "And you sent him away anyway." "Yes." I meet his eyes. "I did." "Why?" No judgment in the question. Just genuine curiosity. "Because I'm tired." The honesty surprises even me. "I'm tired of fighting for someone who won't fight for himself. Tired of forgiving someone who keeps making the same mistakes. Tired of being the one who always has to be strong while he falls apart and expects me to pick up the pieces." "He's trying to be strong now—"

The circles under her eyes were dark as bruises. “You took everything from me,” she said, and her voice didn’t shake. “You told me everyday that I was weak. You sent me into a stranger’s bed because you thought I was nothing but a tool.” She knelt, bringing her face level with his. “I’m not nothing. I’m the last person you’ll see as life pulls away from you the way everyone pulls away from you. In the end, your strength took you nowhere.”

Her shoulders dropped, her jaw trembled, her eyes filled up, and the strength she had been using to hold herself together finally gave out like a rope that had been pulled too tight for too long. "I'm so tired." Her voice came out broken and small, nothing like the fierce, defiant woman who had been shouting at me thirty seconds ago. "I'm tired of being scared every day. I'm tired of people getting hurt because of me. I'm tired of waking up every morning and wondering if today is the day someone I care about doesn't come home." The tears spilled over. Not quietly. Her whole body shook with them, and the sound she made was the kind that lives in the throat and the chest at the same time, raw

“Gosh, you scared me.” “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Didn’t mean to—” She sniffles, wiping her face, but more tears fall. “I can’t… I can’t hold it anymore.” I take a step forward, but stop. She shakes her head. “I’m tired, Joel. I’m so tired. I’m tired of being sick. Of being fought over like I’m some prize. Of being manipulated and lied to and treated like… like I’m a piece in a game I never agreed to play.”

I wanted to be closer, to feel like I was one of them, even if only for a moment. I spoke to them about work, about strength, about hope. I tried to use simple words, words they could hold onto. “You are not weak,” I said. “Even if people treat you like you are. You have survived this long, and that means you are strong. I want to help you find your strength again.” A woman with tired eyes and gray hair shook her head slowly. She looked at me with bitterness, like she had already heard too many empty promises. Her voice was soft, but sharp.

“I know you’re still breathing after everything that happened tonight. I know you ran barefoot through miles of forest rather than let them see you break. I know you woke up in a stranger’s territory surrounded by people who could kill you and the first thing you did was tell me not to touch you.” Her lips parted. I kept going. “I know you’re stronger than the male who left that mark on your neck will ever understand.” Tears welled in her eyes again. She blinked them back furiously. “I’m not strong,” she whispered. “I’m just… tired.” “Then rest,” I said. “You’re safe here. No one will touch you. No one will force you. No one will mark you unless you ask for it.” Her breath hitched. “You mean

she said emotionally. “You are extremely wrong, Andy. You are not weak at all nor a coward at that. Going through everything that happened since we first met, it’s natural to feel scared… but it’s not a sign of weakness. You are so strong you’re not even aware of it. The girl who slapped my hand away and spat in my face when she thought she was about to be touched by someone during that display, the girl who fought me tooth and nail, who stood toe to toe with me despite thinking I can hurt her back for verbally hurting me, she is anything but weak Andy. She is so strong, she made me fall in love with her without even trying, without even letting me know who she really was all along”

The way her voice broke nearly shattered me. “I’m tired.” And suddenly, I understood. Not physically tired. Soul-deep tired. The kind of exhaustion that came from loving someone for too long while slowly losing yourself in the process. “Then let me be your strength,” I whispered shakily against her ear. But the only response I got was the sound of her crying harder in my arms. And somehow… that hurt more than her anger ever did. Because anger meant she still had energy left to fight me. This?

she whispered, voice scratchy from the shift. ‘She likes us,’ Fenrir barked triumphantly in my head. ‘She wants to wrestle, maybe mate-wrestle…’ “Do not say mate-wrestle out loud,” I growled inwardly, rolling my eyes. Her eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, the weight of everything finally dragging at her. “I feel so tired,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath, like wind threading through silk. Her body leaned back against the bedpost as though even sitting upright had become too much.