The Ballad Of Never After Novelas e Histórias

I noticed only the approaching, blinding light, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to witness my entry into the afterlife, if this indeed was heaven and I was truly gone. "Celeste!" I froze. My heart rate slowed. When I reopened my eyes, I was left speechless as Arik stood before me, swiftly removing the bomb strapped to my body along with the chains. I saw and heard him commanding his men to defuse the bomb outside, and I spotted the black Ford Raptor behind him, its high beams casting a brilliant glow. I wasn't dead. I was still here. "Oh, God. Fuck it!"

I am Samantha Perez. I have big dreams for my parents. I want to be rich, so I applied and started working at a casino in Makati. That’s where I met the man who would steal my heart—and eventually break it. His name is Gabriel Bustamante, son of a wealthy billionaire. Handsome, strong, and a bit of a bad boy—he loved casinos. I’ve always been picky with men and never allowed myself to be fooled… but somehow, he was the only one I ever fell for.

I was dazed for a second, hardly believing what I was hearing. Charles did not say anything more. Instead, he snuck up behind me and gave me a little shove. I tripped forward, and the camera flashes were so bright that I could not open my eyes. A sharp pain zipped through my belly, and I felt something warm spreading underneath me. When I looked down, I saw my pants were all wet with blood. Everything around me started to fade to black. Right before I passed out, I heard Charles say with a sneer, "Not this again. Always playing the same old fainting game."

His arms came around me with a force that startled us both — not cruel, not claiming, but desperate, as though the mere thought of another presence between us was a physical wound. Instead I lifted my face and kissed him — not with desperation, but with something steadier. With understanding. We had always known this would come. Summer had given us its blessing. It had let us pretend. But autumn was honest. As I lay awake later that night — not in my narrow servant’s bed, but in the circle of his arms beneath our stolen quilts — I understood something with painful clarity. Perfection does not last. That is what makes it sacred. And though the leaves would fall and the Princess would arrive a

I opened the bags and found that every piece of clothing had already been unwrapped. The tags were gone, and there was a smear of dried sticky stuff on the beige slacks that had not been cleaned off. It had hardened, but the stain was obvious. They could not be returned. I stared at that stain the way I might stare at the wreckage of my three-year marriage. "Who opened these?" Linnea hesitated, then lowered her voice. "Grant opened them. He signed for the package and assumed they were for him, so he just..."

And if she couldn't, how could I? Maybe one day she'd find peace. But that wasn't my story anymore. Stella—she was gone, but not really. She was up there now, a star I'd never lose. Every time I looked up, I'd find her. Those memories? They'd carry me. I'd miss her forever. I'd look after the ones she left behind—my folks, Kylie's too. I'd keep going. And maybe—if the universe was kind— I'd hear that little voice again someday.

And next to our name, carved in smaller letters, there was a line that said, "May we never meet again in the afterlife." This was my final punishment for them. I would never forgive them forever.