Tears Of Tess Novels & Stories

Tess said, sighing heavily and wiping away tears. Watching Tess shed these crocodile tears, Maia found it hilariously absurd. Such a talented actress! It's a pity she's not competing for an Oscar! Maia shook her head, trying to play along. "Aunt Tess, don't say that. As you said, we're family..." "Good, Maia, I knew you're the best. Sigh, I don't know how Errol is doing. Is his mood a bit better?" Tess pretended to care about Errol.

Because tonight, I have to find that troublemaker princess! But before I stepped away, Celine held my arm. Making me have to turn back and stare at her again. "What's wrong?" I asked softly. "Can you kiss me before you leave, Zelos?" Getting a request and a tender gaze from the only woman I've ever love, made the corners of my lips smile slightly upward. Celine is a woman who is able to warm all the trembles in my heart. All the complicated and dark feelings are always calm and peaceful if I'm with her.

Thank you so much. Tessa’s face broke into a small smile as she threw her arms around Thalassa’s neck. Thalassa held her tightly, her tears falling freely. Everyone watched on with smiles, especially Kris who couldn't stop staring at Thalassa in wonder. When they pulled back, Tessa reached up with her tiny hands and wiped at Thalassa’s tears. "Don’t cry, Mummy," she said softly. Thalassa chuckled, shaking her head. "I won’t, sweetheart. I promise."

Then I told him to disappear, out of sight. The door creaked open again, Tessa’s voice carrying a nervous tremor as she filmed. I let the tears fall, covering my chest with what remained of my nightwear, my body shaking with practiced sobs. She rushed to the bed, arms around me, whispering comfort. When I was sure the performance was complete, I glanced at the phone in her hand. “Why are you filming me? Delete it. Delete it!” I screamed, my tears morphing into a raw, jagged cry. Then she ended the video.

The tears flowed freely, dampening the fabric beneath her touch, a silent testament to the ache that threatened to consume her. In their master’s bedroom, Tessa's sobs filled the air, a mournful melody that resonated with the depths of her despair. She lay on their bed, her body curled into a ball, seeking comfort in the familiar space they had shared countless nights before. But tonight, the bed felt empty, its silence echoing the absence of the man who completed her world. Amidst her tears, Tessa turned her gaze upward, her eyes searching the ceiling as if seeking answers from the heavens above. In a voice choked with emotion, she began to speak, her words a desperate plea that hung in the

“Daddy!” Forgetting all about Saint, that was left standing there, and she runs with the phone. Thankfully, I am not one to get motion sickness as the surroundings bounce. She climbs Tess’ lap and thrusts the phone into her mother’s face. “LOOK!” she said with such enthusiasm, and already I could feel my anger simmering. Tess pulled the phone away from her face enough to see it was me. Tears fill up her beautiful green eyes. “Hi..” She said between sniffles, “Sorry, it’s the hormones, and we miss you.”

I took it and sipped slowly, never taking my eyes off her. “She’s still breathing,” I murmured. “She’s stronger than she looks,” he said quietly. “Like someone else I know.” I glanced at him, managing a weak smile. “I’m not so sure about that anymore.” He touched my wrist gently. “She’s still in there. You reached her once. You can do it again.” Before I could respond, a faint groan escaped Tess’s lips. My breath caught. She shifted, her eyelids fluttering. Her hands twitched like she was trying to reach for something—then recoiled, as if burned. When her eyes finally opened, they were no longer violet.

“The Goddess.” Her tears fell. And my heart broke all over again.

I can barely make out the word: "Can’t... Can’t..." I realize she can’t breathe and I rush toward her, the decades of resentment vanishing under the primal instinct to save my mother. But it’s already too late. Tess slumps forward, her forehead slamming into the desk, knocking over a bronze bust and a lamp on her way down. She crumples to the floor, her eyes wide, glassy, and fixed on the ornate ceiling. She's dead. ZLLIOT

I was just picking up my spoon when he told me our marriage registration would be delayed again. "Let's do it next time," Ethan said as he put down his cutlery. His tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the pleasant weather. I took a sip of my food, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "Okay." He glanced at me, picked up his fork, and then looked at me again. "You're not angry?" I continued eating, my voice entirely flat. "No, I'm not." Our wedding ceremony had been held six months ago, but this was the seventeenth time he had postponed getting our marriage certificate. He was used to doing this. And I was used to accepting it. I finished my meal bite by bite. He didn't touch his