Smile Inside Crying Outside Novels & Stories

My shoulders shook — not from grief, not from fear, but from the sheer physical effort of suppressing something that wanted very badly to come out. A smile. Not a small one. A big, wide, ugly, sprawling smile that would have split my face in two if I'd let it. The kind of smile that belongs on the face of the villain in a children's cartoon, not on the face of a fragile, pregnant woman who has just been victimized by her cruel, unstable sister.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you? I can never tell when you do that? Why don’t you smile or something?” Why don’t you smile. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’d heart this question. I gave him the answer I always did. “I don’t smile.” Simple and short. “But you do.” I looked at him. “Excuse me?” “You do smile. When you’re stepping on the skulls of your enemies. It’s a scary sort of smile.” I shrugged. “Guess that’s the only thing that brings me joy.”

He leaned in closer and whispered, “Smile.” She shut her eyes tightly, biting down on her lip. Slowly and painfully, her mouth curved upward into a forced smile. The screaming flowers went silent. She opened her eyes horrified and whispered, “No.” Her father's voice dripped with manipulation. “Yes. Even false smiles hold power. The world doesn’t care if you’re hurting inside; it only wants to see your teeth.” She stumbled backward, clutching her chest while her lips quivered against their will, trying not to frown—the smile felt like it was locked in place.

Uncle said. At Hospital Khushi P.O.V. "Have you ever been so close to cry but you have to put on smile always" I felt it.. There has been so many times when it's almost happened, I have come so close to cry but I still kept a smile on my face. Smile, right??? Yes, smile. So that nobody would really know the pain that was really going on. I held several bouquets of roses in my hand, and I smiled. I smiled because it is better than letting the tears run down on my face..

A false smile, but people don’t notice, my cheeks burn in pain at the permanent on slaughter of fakeness. I don’t talk to people. I smile. I smile until it’s too painful to keep it latched onto my face. I smile until tears streaming down that face. I smiled until I’m screamed at and kicked at by my fellow peers. But it’s okay. It’s always been okay.

I could do nothing to help you, not even me. I've always tried to put on a bold face, not to show to the people what I feel inside of me but deep down within me... I feel hurt, I feel weak... My heart is shattered into a million pieces. Why did you think I don't ever smile. If I smile, it was only for a moment. it would fade.

” I bit out. She tilted her head to the side and searched my face. ”You’ve gone through more than anyone I've known and you’re still here. You might feel broken and beat, lifeless even, but you’re here. You got up and you got out of the room. But I don't want you to ever fake your smile because if you do, it might never turn real. It is better for you to frown, cry, or just stare than to fake a smile. Seeing your smile should be a gift.”

I see her start to smile, a sincere and true smile, but no matter how hard she tries, it doesn't reach her eyes. --- Are you really going to drop me off at the door?- she says and then walks in following me and putting her bag on top of the sofa, where she also sits But it's really loose, see--I think rolling my eyes and laughing in thought. I sit next to her and stand there looking at her, how could such a kind person go through this? How to look at her and smile knowing that inside her little heart is more and more destroyed? I know I should act normally like nothing happened, but I just can't! seeing her with that little face just kills me.

Her confident stride and enigmatic presence immediately captivated me, igniting a mix of curiosity and intrigue that made me question what layers lay beneath her composed exterior. "Let's get started," she said with a smiling face, but the brightness of her lips couldn't mask the traces of tears that lingered on her cheeks. The tip of her small nose was slightly red, and her eyes shimmered with remnants of sorrow, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with her cheerful demeanor, suggesting she was fighting to reclaim her composure in that moment. She was crying on the inside, yet she still managed to maintain a smile on the outside, a mask of resilience that betrayed the turmoil

“C’mon, give mummy a smile” Florence muttered with a weak smile on her face. We’ll be back very soon, I promise” Florence murmured as she crouched before her kids. Pastor Peter and his wife stood behind the children. Their small travelling bags and school bags had been carried inside but still, the children were not smiling. Solomon looked on the verge of tears. Barely two years old, Solomon was too small to be left alone. Visha stared mutely at the ground, while Sandra had a deceptive calm look on her face. Her pride wouldn’t allow her show just how much this was affecting her; somehow, that was more heartbreaking than even Solomon’s tears.