Short Lived Happiness Novel Novels & Stories

A wrinkled nun offered them fresh bread and honey, and they sat beneath ancient olive trees, breaking the loaf between them. “Do you think happiness can really last, Hunter?” Evelyn wondered, her voice colored with curiosity and a hint of old worry. He considered it, studying her profile—the way a stray curl clung to her cheek; the line of her mouth, softened by contentment. “I think happiness changes shape,” he answered. “It won’t always be candlelight or even laughter. But with you, it feels… sturdy. Like a safe house I get to keep returning to.” She beamed, nudging him with her shoulder. “You’re so earnest.”

Hot. They slipped down her cheeks without permission, trailing through the silence like proof she couldn’t pretend anymore. It was how quickly her life had turned. Just ten hours. That’s all it took to rip it apart. One moment she was smiling over her laptop, happy about finishing the first half of her book—a book about love. The next, she was breaking. Learning that the man she was supposed to marry in three days… Was a mafia lord. A killer. A monster dressed in suits and vows.

My plan was simple: Live like a slacker until Travis became a rich, successful CEO. Then sit back and enjoy life as a pampered young lady. During my major course, I was hiding in the back row scrolling on my phone when the original Jennie’s best friend, Linda Lander, texted me and asked if I wanted to join a mixer party. That’s when I remembered. In the original novel, this was the scene where Nancy flirted with three high-quality male leads at a bar. It caused a ripple across the entire storyline.

And in that moment, standing in the doorway of our soft, sleepy home, I knew one thing for certain— Happiness wasn’t loud. It was this. The laughter that still lingered in the air. The warmth of someone’s hand in yours. The quiet heartbeat of a house full of love. END OF CHAPTER 119

Sunlight spilled through the curtains, warming my hand. No burn. No pain. I felt the happiness depth in my heart. I took one last walk through the penthouse—this gilded cage. Then, I did a final check of my belongings. I brought no jewelry; to me now, it was all just golden chains, nothing more. I zipped the suitcase. At the time I closed the front door, my phone lit up—Celia again. Not an ultrasound this time. A wedding photo: her in ivory lace, standing in a candlelit underground hall.

| In Denial | HIS SUITE was bewilderingly luxurious, grander, ecclesiastical—it has a separate living area, two bedrooms, a dining area. He’s rich. How can he live in this wide space all by himself? Isn’t it too boring? Sometimes rich people seem not to enjoy their luxurious life. Yes, they can have the materialistic thing they want but they can never buy happiness. They’re lack happiness. Yes, money can buy everything, but it doesn’t mean that it can make you happy all the time. The purpose of money is to satisfy your needs. Basically, not favorable among us.

"Her books was published It's all nice! I read the story of My Life is miserable, almost all of her stories, only the new book. I didn't read it because I didn't know that she have released a new story." "You're so noisy, Arche! Just turn off the TV and then just tell the whole story! Bro, be quiet there, is that a clear, trouble maker?" Jasper said to Arche and their companions laughed, except for Haru, who suddenly spoke. "The only difference between the two is that they are very simple. In this story of my life is miserable, Her life are without happiness, she would rather disappear from the world she live in. Because she will not experience of joy. She experiences sadness, pain, and fr

Silence. Then softly: “We already built the life I used to pray for.” God. The sentence physically tightened his chest. Because once, both of them viewed happiness like something distant. Future tense. Now? Now they were already living inside it. Elena looked toward the reception behind them. Warm lights. Laughter. Beautiful ordinary joy. “I spent so many years believing happiness would arrive dramatically.” Silence. “But honestly?” Her voice softened carefully. “It arrived slowly.” “In mornings.” “In conversations.” “In peace.”

Ava noticed it most during ordinary moments. Moments that once passed unnoticed. Nova rushing downstairs in the morning with unfinished homework and dramatic excuses. Mrs. Holt pretending to be annoyed while secretly helping. Adrian attempting to maintain authority despite clearly being outnumbered. Small things. Simple things. The kind of moments that quietly became memories. Interesting. Very interesting. Because Ava spent years believing happiness would arrive dramatically. That it would announce itself. That it would feel extraordinary. Reality proved otherwise. Happiness often arrived disguised as ordinary days. Ordinary conversations.

you can think of. And stay tuned because book three: Before Hazel, will feature the five years of Hazel’s life as his secretary, and will capture things from Alan’s pov and Hazel’s (including all the things Hazel missed, like her asshole boss’ crush on her, and how she started as a stripper, and what led to her final straw the day she quit being his secretary) but for now stick around for EVE AND ADAM (ft so many scenes of Hazel and Alan) see ya x !