Tattered Synonym Mga Nobela at Kwento

DAMON'S POV The doctor’s voice was devoid of emotion, yet there was weight behind every word he spoke. His explanation came slowly, as though each syllable was a burden he hesitated to deliver. “They’re called taints,” he said, his gaze fixed but weary. “Marks of betrayal. Every time you share yourself with someone else, it stains the bond. And Velara—she’s your bond. That means every one of your encounters doesn’t just hurt her; it brands her. Deeply. Irreparably.”

"Are you normal? Does madness run in your head?" "Are you calling me mad?" "No, your actions are like a mad woman." Whitney sighed, tears were about to drop from her eyes, Gregory got frustrated; he ran his hand on her back. "I am sorry but please change it to something different." "Fine, I will." She goes inside, and she changes into something worse, this time, she is wearing a tan top, her cleavage is exposed and she is not wearing a bra, Gregory angry is but he tries to compose himself. "Shall we?'

“It started to bleed again and I got worried, I didn’t speak with Aiden he would still be asleep but I will tell him in the morning I promise” I frowned at him then looked back to Kiara, “So what’s the diagnosis doc?” I let a small chuckle escape my lips before snapping them shut again. She had a look of concern across her face. “Ok, what’s wrong?” “I think they put in stiches of some sort when you were in hospital previously, but it appears as though you have torn them open again somehow. We will need to take you back down to our hospital and redo it. That is not something you want me to do without some sort of atheistic”

“Why do you hate Callan so much?” Lucien scoffed. “Hate is a strong word. I prefer deeply despise.” Hazel narrowed her eyes. “That’s the same thing, genius.” Lucien smirked. “Not exactly. Hate is wild and uncontrollable. Despise is… carefully nurtured, like a fine wine.” Hazel rolled her eyes. “Oh great, not only are you psychotic, you’re poetic too. Fantastic.” Lucien chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll appreciate my depth soon enough.”

You spat the words like it left a foul taste in your mouth. "Tethered— we were two halves, we are now one. Killing you would be killing myself, and so, you shall live." "On stranger tides, Drop anchor and pray, That your love returns, with Dawn's first rays..." I wish I had some grasp at the time of what an exceptional and rare gift it was to be tethered. If I'd have known what it truly meant to find the other half of one's soul, I would have begged you to run. To run with me as far as we could go, deep onto dry land and far from the sea. If only I'd known how unforgiving she would be... How cruel a mother could be to her children...

Yet, when I attempted to mate with her, it proved futile. “What is that?” Aaron inquired, his brow furrowing with concern. “The mating process,” I confessed with a heavy heart. “I couldn't feel her. It signifies one harsh reality: nothing will ever work between us. The only recourse left is to sever this sickening bond and return her to her family, even if it necessitates enlisting more witches to dissolve the tie. I'll endure the pain; after all, I've grown accustomed to such pain,” I murmured, gazing out of the window, grappling with the weight of my decision.