Talking Hearts Novels & Stories

And though they didn't touch, they could feel each other—like some invisible thread had passed between their skin. "Good night, Fireflower," Lennox murmured—softer than ever. His voice rough, low, but sincere. Intimate. Sloane smiled faintly. "Good night, Ice-Blue Fist." And with that, they walked. Side by side. Not touching. Not speaking. Just walking the hall in silence, under half-lit lights—two people who had been through too much in one day, and now only wanted something inside them to finally rest. They stopped outside their rooms.

“I’m o⁠utside. I need to talk to y⁠ou.” I froze. Then on​e mor‍e message came thro‌ugh, sof​ter somehow, al‌most pleadin‌g. “It⁠’s okay if you can​’t, right? Just kno⁠w tha‍t I love you s⁠o much.” ‌

"What are you talking about?" Damien demanded, his protective instincts fully engaged now, positioning himself slightly between Grace and Thomas Whitfield without appearing to consciously decide to do so. Thomas reached into his jacket, and I felt my entire body go rigid with fear before he simply produced a small recording device, setting it deliberately on the table between us. "I've recorded this entire conversation," he said, something almost apologetic beneath the cold calculation in his voice. "Every word. Including your genuine apology, Grace, which I intend to edit carefully before releasing it publicly."

He asked and then Heart raised her chin up and Cullen saw her crying face. “I just want him to wake up. But why he is not waking up, Sir?! This really hurts my heart!” Heart began to breakdown again. She then looked at the view from the 360 observation deck. “These lights, they remind me of that horrible event. Maybe this whole country. Maybe I just need to migrate to another country!” Heart was sobbing so hard. Cullen then stepped forward and stood next to her. “It is okay, just scream your feelings. It will help.” Cullen said. Heart continued venting out by whimpering and shouting what was hurting her.

—I smiled with tight lips and lightly slapped his somewhat rough cheek —"But seriously, Jax, why are you doing this? You're young, how old are you to be already involved in so much shit?" I managed to distance myself a bit, and as I sat next to him on the fabric sofa, my heart began to normalize its rhythm; I crossed my legs and let my hands fall on my thighs, looking at the television. An uncomfortable silence had settled in, and the television without volume didn't help.

Felix Sterling had a thing for women who reminded him of his first love. I happened to look about eighty percent like the woman he had lost. Because of that, he spoiled me rotten and turned me into a spoiled, arrogant woman who got whatever she wanted. Whenever some foolish woman dared to provoke me, I would track down her home, even at three in the morning, and slap her dozens of times. Felix never said a harsh word to me. He simply cleaned up the messes I left behind. That was until a woman who looked even more like his first love appeared. Her name was Vivian Hart. The moment she saw me, she dropped to her knees. With tears in her eyes, she pleaded, “I heard you’re really good at

Losing Sawyer was by one means or another more regrettable, since he was gone, but still there. “A parcel of individuals know a few shape of heartache,” he said. “But over time, the torment facilitates and you realize your heart still beats. So long as it’s beating, it can cherish once more. I guarantee. It might be a individual or a story or a work of craftsmanship that takes your warmth, but inevitably something other than pity will take your breath away.” It was as if he knew precisely what to say, precisely what she required to listen. She needed to allow him a few individual detail back so he’d keep talking to her.

she brea‍the⁠s, “toget‍her.” We move to the couch, arms wrapp‍ed around o⁠ne another, tal‌king softly. Words spill⁠ out slow⁠ly: fear⁠s, relief, laughter over the smallest absur‍dities, tears at the t‍hings we couldn‌’t say bef⁠ore. The world o‍utside the windows is si‌lent, but inside, our hear‍ts beat loud enough to fill th‍e sp‌ace.

She knew the images were from the night of the welcome party where she saw Sara and Aaden together. Her heart hurt seeing the person she loved so much in the arms of another woman. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She couldn't believe that her husband had betrayed her in such a manner. Her heart pounding in her chest, Crystal took a step forward, her eyes still fixed on the screen. She stood there in shock, unable to move or speak. Her mind raced with questions and doubts, and her heart felt like it had been ripped apart. She couldn't believe what she had just seen. The images burned into her mind, causing her chest to tighten and her eyes to fill with tears,

Together we hold each other in this empty room, pouring our hearts out to one another without words. Because we can. The couple who couldn't even bear to talk to one another a few months ago, can now talk without words. Healing is taking place in this silent moment and I let it. Whatever we have to say to one another will still be there once we get through doing something together we've never done: process emotions.