Novel & Cerita The Art Of Falling Apart

If I could ever rule that stage, present myself under his banner, doors would fly open. After taking off my shirt, I went to the bathroom and turned on the water until the mirror fog was created by steam. I let the hot spray run over me as I stepped into the shower, soaking into my sore muscles. I closed my eyes and just took a deep breath. The only place I didn't have to act or think was in the water.

"Break whatever you need to. Scream if you want. Fall apart. I'll be here when you're ready to put yourself back together." And just like that, the dam broke. I cried. Really cried. The kind of crying that comes from deep in your chest. The kind that hurts. All the fear, anger, exhaustion I'd been holding in came pouring out. Alexander held me through all of it. When I finally stopped, I felt empty but lighter somehow. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "For what?" "For falling apart." "Everyone falls apart sometimes." He kissed my forehead. "Even strong people. Especially strong people."

He froze on the spot because he knew every word she said was true. He was the one who had killed Isabella. Nothing he did could ever bring her back. "Isabella, I was wrong. I was truly wrong." The ruthless mafia boss collapsed to his knees, his hands clamped over his face as tears streamed through his fingers. He thought back to every moment he had shared with me, every trace of happiness that now twisted into the deepest wound in his heart. A broken howl tore from his throat, as if he were trying to empty all the pain inside him.

"Everyone cries." "I don't." "Then don't." He stepped closer. His chest was inches from hers. "But don't pretend you're fine. You're not fine. I'm not fine. We're two people standing in a dark building pretending we don't want to fall apart." "I don't want to fall apart." "I want to fall apart with you." The words landed like stones in still water. Mira felt the ripples spread through her chest, her stomach, her throat. "Rule number three," she whispered.

And then I put my face in my hands and I fall apart. Not prettily. Not quietly. The ugly kind ... the kind that has been building for three weeks of headlines and cancelled contracts and Tristan's smiling eyes on national television and my mother's empty chair and four million dollars and death threats and a ruined dress and mismatched eyes in a hotel room and all of it, every single piece of it, coming apart at once. He puts his hand on my back. He doesn't speak. He just sits there while I completely unravel and when I finally come up for air, face a mess, dignity entirely destroyed, he hands me a mug without comment and I take it with both hands and breathe.

Somewhere in the haze, I thought I heard someone calling me, desperate. “Penny. Penny, answer me!” I wanted to wake, but my eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. A crushing suffocation wrapped around me, as if I were sinking in the deep, dark ocean. Falling. Falling. Just as I was about to lose consciousness entirely, a large hand appeared and wrenched me free. I opened my eyes to a hospital ceiling. Adrian was slumped beside me, his face worn to the bone, like he hadn't rested in a very long time.

The sounds, the words, the crushing weight of my own inadequacy—it was all too much. "Stop," I whimpered. "STOP!" The word tore out of me with more force than I intended. More weight. Like it carried the full force of my rage and pain and desperation. The apartment shook. The sounds cut off abruptly. And then everything shattered. I fell through darkness again, gasping, until I hit sand. Real sand. Hot sand that burned through my clothes. I pushed myself up, coughing, my hands shaking. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I looked around wildly, trying to understand what had just happened.

But this pain that's clawing its way to my bones, to every part of me, this ache that found its way even to my veins, it's all too much to handle, too much to bare. "I am not strong." I added as my hand left the painting, i took a step backward, "You know i am not strong." My palms rested at the counter behind me, as my eyes kept looking at the painting, so many feelings piling inside, so many feelings, went unsaid. Because no one is here to listen. Everything suddenly started falling apart, too fast to be fixed. The doors i closed in my brain, opened up, reminding me of who i am, what i was, what i'll always be.

But there was something else present there in his eyes too. It's almost like he is crumbling because... ‘I am falling apart?’

after everything. I didn’t stop. i couldn’t. because stopping meant losing him. and that wasn’t an option. the space shifted. not forming. collapsing inward. pulling. dragging. trying to consume everything that entered it. and in the center I saw him. Falling. not stable. not whole. breaking into fragments. not physically. conceptually. like parts of him were being stripped away. pulled into something that didn’t care what he was. only that he existed. “Zayden!”