Silently Crying Novels & Stories

Jia gave a small shake of her head "I'm not okay" she whispered, the words cracking as tears slipped down her cheeks. She sniffed hard, trying to pull herself back together but it was no use. Silvio reached out and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand "It's okay to cry" he said softly "So tell me... how are you feeling?" Something in his voice—steady, quiet, unjudging—cut through the noise in her chest. Jia let out a trembling breath and slowly, she opened her mouth

I thought I could handle this better… –Hey Tater tot. I hope you know, regardless of everything, I still love you.-- Tears well in my eyes and I peek out the window, trying to hide it from my family. I’ve only cried in the dark or shower, keeping my tears even from myself the best I can. But this text…fuck it feels amazing and awful at the same time. My phone rings and I sniffle, dabbing at my eyes, alerting no one that I am silently falling apart, and answer the phone.

I convince myself that he is someone I know very well. Do you know what I saw right in front of my eyes? My body was stiff, and my mouth went out. I didn't scream. I can only be silent, but my tears seem to represent my feelings. My tears just flowed down my cheeks. But no sobs came out of my mouth.

We all know. I am gutted and wrecked and crushed and hollow, lowkey-crying behind my eyes in the specific way where the tears never actually fall because you will not let them. I am broken and spiraling and lost and devastated and done and cooked and numb and raw and unraveled at the seams, and I am silently-screaming inside my chest, and I am grieving something I have not even lost yet, which is the worst possible kind of grief. Done-for, quietly, standing at a gala bar in a three-thousand-dollar dress with a second margarita I absolutely earned.

Lyla practically sprinted back to her room, her steps unsteady, heart pounding with emotions she couldn’t calm. The moment she slammed the door shut, her bottled-up feelings surged forward. She collapsed onto the bed, burying her face deep into the pillows, and the tears came, silent but relentless, soaking through the fabric. She cried as if she could expel all the pain and confusion that had built up over the past few days.

My throat was burning, but I didn’t cry, not until the door shut behind me. I curled up on the edge of the couch, naked and cold, wrapping my blanket around myself like that would somehow make me smaller, invisible. The cushions were scratchy against my bare skin, and every little sound from the bedroom made me hold my breath. I didn’t want to move. I was waiting for the silence, for the proof that he’d fallen asleep, so I could sneak into the bathroom and wash this night off me, wash him off me. Silent tears slipped down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, landing on my knees. I didn’t even wipe them away. I just sat there and let it happen, letting it all out, as quietly as I could.

he called holding her hand and stopping her from leaving. "I'm sorry...okay? I'm so sorry, baby please, can't you hear my heart crying?" He asked, face paled in a pitiful expression, and my eyes widened, never witnessed my brother acting like a big flirt, damn I thought as I witness how Caroline fell for it.

She asks holding her pain inside. " Don't worry. I will never be busy for you. Call me anytime and receive my calls!" " Am I allowed to call you or message you?" Tears well up in her eyes, glistening like delicate pearls, as her trembling lip has betrayed the inner turmoil she fought so hard to conceal. Her shoulders quiver with each silent sob. She gazes down, her vision blurs and a solitary tear cascades down her cheek, leaving a strain of her heartbreak. He stands frozen, his heart sinks as he observes the silent, heartbreaking sob before him. And, his eyes, widen in astonishment.

I giggled, and the next thing that happened shocked me more. Tears cascaded down his cheeks like a stormy rainfall. With each sob that escaped his lips, the weight of his anguish filled the room, suffusing the air with a palpable sense of grief. The sound of his cries echoed through the empty spaces, a haunting melody of pain and loss that reverberated in the silence. In that moment, he was not just shedding tears; he was releasing a torrent of emotions long held captive, letting the raw vulnerability of his tears speak the words his voice could not utter.

At this point, weeping was the only solution. Covering my lips so I wouldn't end up wailing, I shut my eyes, leaned my hand on the sink, whimpering in my palm. As I wept, it made my feet and knee weaker. Was I supposed to be in hard tears? Or was I supposed to cry silently? Unable to decide on what to do, I crouched beside the cupboard below the sink, tugging my stomach with my hand, still weeping in my palm. "Love hurts," I muttered silently. Silent to the point that even a cockroach beside me wouldn't hear the words I had mentioned.