Smiling Poem Novels & Stories

In those eight terrifying seconds when the plane dropped into darkness, my first thought was how devastated Lucas would be if I never made it to the airport. However, after surviving and landing safely, what greeted me instead…was a photo he shared with his childhood sweetheart, the two of them smiling on a hike. The caption read: [Here's to still being wild with you at sixty.] If it had been before, I probably would have blown up his phone, demanding an explanation and picking a fight. However, then, after brushing so close to death, I just felt… tired.. So I typed out a message: [Let's get a divorce.]

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

Burned alive and abandoned, Sheraphina died believing she had nothing left. Then she woke up at fifteen. With her memories intact and her enemies still smiling, Sheraphina chooses silence over screams and patience over pity. Her stepsister—sweet, fragile, adored—has no memory of the fire yet, only a growing hunger for everything Sheraphina owns. Her father still turns a blind eye. Her stepmother still whispers poison into willing ears. This time, Sheraphina won’t fight openly. She will take back her name, her inheritance, and her future—piece by piece. And when a powerful billionaire steps into her path, drawn by her calm defiance and hidden sharpness, Sheraphina learns that revenge doesn’t have to be lonely.

I am looking at it right now, not believing what I see. I decided that I would follow the whole wedding far away from them, almost near the exit, just so that I wouldn't have to exchange ideas with any of them. My mother is holding hands with Daud Lestari, the head of that family of thieves and murderers, smiling in her beautiful white wedding dress. Right behind them is Daud's son, Lanton Lestari, that cursed man. My new half-brother. It will take a while, but he will see who is in charge here. I myself will make it a point to hunt down and destroy every single Lestari there, starting with Lanton, or my name is not Lukman Sari.

It was my girlfriend's birthday. I took her to my family's newly opened restaurant for dinner. Since we were planning to have cake later, the two of us ordered a single set meal that included a pizza and a plate of pasta. Smiling, I handed the menu to the waiter. He took it with a fake smile. I heard him calling us paupers under his breath. I frowned. "What did you just say?" The waiter froze for a second. He then put on another fake smile. "I said I'll have your order ready shortly." I snorted and replied fluently in the same language he'd used. "You just called us paupers."

One night, Lisa Hasse had a fiance, a family name, and a future. Then Victor Elsner was murdered. Every piece of evidence points to Lisa’s father. Ethan Elsner, the man she was going to marry, believes the evidence before he believes her. He leaves her standing in the ruins of their love. But Lisa refuses to break. She will become the lawyer her father needs, expose who used her stolen credential, and make Ethan regret the night he chose grief over faith. The deeper she digs, the closer the truth gets to Ethan’s own family. In New York’s elite, love is dangerous. Evidence lies. And the real killer may be smiling at the funeral.

She went undercover to destroy him… and now she has to seduce him so he will let his guard down. Detective Natalia morozova's mission was simple it was to get close to Mikhail Volkov, the Bratva's pakhan and gather some information to use against him but after saving his life, she wakes up in his bed… and unknowingly signs a marriage contract to him. And now she has to play the perfect wife smiling sweetly, touching him softly while plotting his downfall, but every possessive grip on her body, makes it harder to remember which of them is really in control, and what her mission really is. In this game of seduction and lies one of them has to surrender.. and it might not be him.

After I married into a rich family as my older sister's stand-in, my powerful husband didn't touch me for six months. Then I overheard his friend. "You chased her ten years just to marry her, and you still won't touch her?" He looked down, smiling bitter. "I have a problem... I'm scared I'd scare her off." That night I stormed into his room and slapped the divorce papers on the nightstand. "Two choices—sleep with me or sign." He ripped the papers apart and pinned me to the wall, something wild breaking loose in his eyes. "Third choice... I make sure you can't get out of bed tomorrow."

Cassandra Morgan thought her exhausting life was finally over. She went to a high end party to celebrate her freedom from her father's debt, but woke up in the next morning in luxurious suite and a handsome man was sleeping soundly. "You." The woman eyed Casandra. “Why are you so pathetic and shameless to bite something that is far from your league.” Cassandra found her phone, the first thing she saw was the text message she received from Rachel. “I sold you off. Sorry.” The man was smiling under the soft and silky duvet. His eyes still closed tight but he heard everything and felt amused by the drama. His back was facing them but his ears were clear as the sky. You awake? fucking asshole?

This is the sequel to "Trio of Mates" (can be found on here) and is NOT a stand-alone book. I felt as if I had just fallen asleep when flashes and fragments of dreams began to play through my mind. They are disjointed, speeding through my mind almost too fast to catch. There is Charlie holding two pups in her arms, the pack being attacked on the western front, Arya fallen to her knees sobbing in the middle of a battlefield, funeral pyres, me looking down at my pregnant stomach with Gael and Hakeem smiling down at me, whoops of victory, and wails of defeat. As the images flit through my mind, a voice enters the chaos. “A war of threes. Three deaths. Three victories. Three trios. Three losses. Betrayal. Birth. Death. Sorrow. Joy. Warn them, Meredith. Be prepared!”