Swallowed My Pride Novels & Stories

"She’s young, she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’ll do it! I promise. Just... please don't be angry with her." A wave of hot, suffocating anger surged through my chest. I wanted to pull my mother up and tell her to stop humiliating herself for this woman. But as I realized the terrifying truth: “if have been swallowing my pride and decides not to swallow it now what difference would it make”. "I... I'm sorry," I muttered, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat. I lowered my head, staring at my mother’s hands on the floor. "I didn't mean it that way, Ma'am. I was just... surprised."

I wanted to cry right there in front of him, but my pride held me and i took a deep breath. I almost teared up, but No knewI messed up, I really messed up big time! I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn't have asked. I could hear my own heart cracking as though it was glass shattering against concrete. My chest hurt in a way that no doctor could heal it, so I swallowed my words back. But deep down, even as I stood there broken, one word still kept me going: sometimes love favors the brave. And I wouldn’t give up.

My pride, however small, was very dignified. I found a guest room. It had a latch. I jumped up and did the happy dance. So sure I was going to have to respect my privacy. I went in and slammed the door. I closed the latch and flopped onto the bed. I finally let the tears come to my eyes. I had been disappointed. Again. Do you understand what I meant by disappointments? That's why I never tried hard in relationships. This was silly. I knew I was being immature, but it felt like all my work was for nothing. It had been a long time since I cooked for one person and it hadn't turned out very well.

At times in life, you just have to swallow your dignity and pride to survive My hand reached out for the master's debit card I flipped between my fingers. A part of me didn't want to take me but the other side felt otherwise at last, I was truly a homeless street urchin a wicked part of my head whispered ideals of emptying the account after all I was never going to see that jerk I truly hope we don't part again Then there was a silent voice that wanted me to find out what truly happened last night. ' What else do I want to know? I was drunk and sad and ended up hooking up with a hot guy. End of story.' I snorted, snapping at my stupid heart that was thinking of having a crush on that jerk

But I've dropped my pride and hung my head low for her, and got absolutely nothing but disrespect in return. I would pick up my pride. I would lift my head. Despite being miserable and lonely. I would not let her trample all over me. It was unfortunate that I hadn't even gotten a chance to try. And yet I had already given up. It was so unfortunate, indeed.

My words were final, my heart pounding with defiance. Pedro chuckled, a mocking sound that grated on my nerves. “What do you think you’re doing? Throwing away a fortune because of your pride?” “Pride?” I shot back, my voice rising, my hands clenching into fists. “Yeah, Pedro, I’m proud. And I’d rather lose your damn fortune than play your puppet.” I slipped my boots on, my fingers fumbling with the laces, my chest tight with anger and something deeper—disgust, maybe, at how far I’d let him pull me.

“You think I’m dumb and stupid? That I keep fooling myself even after being betrayed?” “Your words, not mine.” “I know. I sometimes hate myself too… but I’d hate myself more if I walk away from him. I always say I would, but I think I couldn’t.” “Gross.” Belle laughed hysterically. “What the hell! Is that your reaction after I pour my heart out here?” “Yes. It’s gross.” “One day you are going to fall in love and you’re going to swallow your pride and, who knows, self-worth.”

“You’ve officially signed your own death certificate—with glitter pen. Maybe he’ll frame it.” I flopped backward on the floor, arms spread like a crime scene outline, staring at the ceiling. There was no secret trapdoor. No magical portal. Just me, stuck in my own stupidity. And yet—because my brain is a traitor—there was this tiny, ridiculous spark inside me. It wasn't fear, not even regret. Something else. Pride. Like, the tiniest voice whispering: damn, girl, you really said that to him. I sat up halfway, glaring at myself. “No. Stop it. We’re not doing that. Pride gets you killed—especially with a guy like Damiano. Pride gets you shoved into concrete shoes and thrown into a river.”

The rubberneckers, thrilled at the invitation to pile on, swarmed me in a frenzy. A fistful of my hair got ripped out in the scuffle, my shirt hanging in tatters. Adrenaline surged, but lab life had sapped my strength. I couldn't shake them off. I was pinned face-first to the cold floor, my arms wrenched behind my back. They whooped with glee, capturing my humiliation with their phones. "Busted the sidepiece. First time jumping into the fray."

I swallowed what pride I had left and held my chin up high. This is the only plan I had and I'd be damned if it failed.