The Beloved Fool Novels & Stories

Chris Shaw promised that we would finally get our marriage licence next month. He told me he had secured the first appointment slot in the coming month. It was the third time he had brought up marriage. The first was during Valentine's. Chris called to say that city hall had unexpectedly opened a few last-minute slots and told me to hurry over and wait in line. It was pouring with rain. I waited the whole day and only received a video from his best friend. Chris was playing snooker as he mocked, "Told you she'd do everything I told her to. Just like a dog." The second time was on Labor Day. Chris sent me an address for another city hall, dozens of miles away in the middle of nowhere. I

Everyone thinks I agreed to marry Wendy Quinton out of gratitude and to fulfill her grandfather's dying wish. Little did they know, the real reason I gave in was that her features resembled my first love, Zara Langston. Despite knowing that Wendy is hopelessly in love with Zachary Shaw, the man who killed her father, I still chose to have faith in her. But my foolish hope vanishes when I catch them tangled up in bed again in our marital home. With half of her clothes undone, Wendy leans against Zachary's chest, smiling shamelessly. "You should know your place. I've already done you a huge favor by not taking things all the way with him." This isn't the first time. Zachary has already clai

"Always speaking before Asterion. Always earning the punishment first." "If you were angry with me, you watched him less carefully." "You protected him." "He protected me differently." "How much of the fool was an act?" Faolan stopped before me. Flour marked the front of his shirt, and one stubborn streak remained across his cheek. "I like laughter," he said. "I like making frightened children forget they are frightened. I enjoy provoking you more than is sensible. None of that makes me foolish." "No." "Joy is not stupidity, Pandora. It was simply the weapon people were least likely to take from me."

"Right. Seven years… I lived off stale bread with you. I was there when the debt collectors came banging on our door. I thought we were toughing it out together, but the whole time I was just grinding myself down alone." Audrey shook her head frantically, terror flooding her eyes, looking completely wrecked. "That's not true. I only ever loved you. Micah was nothing, I swear, it was all an act!" "An act?" I echoed it back, flat and quiet. "Handing him the deal that was mine was an act? Sitting with him while he got his wisdom teeth pulled, leaving me to sign my own palliative care papers alone—was that also an act?" I turned my head back toward the window, where the sun was sinking red into

“Understood.” And hung up. I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Every eye in the classroom was on me. I had endured those sneering looks for three years. I knew they were waiting for me to make a fool of myself. They thought I was putting on an act. After all, everyone believed I was the boy whose brain just did not work right. I did not understand indirect language. I could never tell when someone was being sarcastic. When I was little, Mom once said, “You love playing with water so much, why don’t you just live in the toilet?”

“Sofia, give me a chance. Let me try again.” “I finally figured it out. You didn’t love me for money or my career. You loved me because I was genuinely good.” “Sofia, I’ve got nothing now, but I found my old self again, the real me, the one from back then. You’re going to fall for me again. I promise I won’t let you down this time.” He had a bandage wrapped around his head and he was holding chestnuts. He did look like the person I’d once known.

Arman stared at her silently. Meher noticed. And suddenly hurt flashed openly across her face. “You don’t believe anything I say anymore.” The exhaustion in her voice disturbed him unexpectedly. Because part of him still wanted desperately to believe her. But every time he tried, Zara’s words returned. HE LOVES MAMA’S MARIGOLDS. The sentence repeated endlessly inside his skull now like something alive. Over the next few days, Arman’s paranoia deepened quietly into obsession. He began checking Meher’s phone while she showered.

I didn’t want anyone to see my shame. He fooled you once. And he fooled you again. My steps became uneven. Of course I was a fool. Of course I was. I had been a fool for three years of our marriage. I had believed every small thing that gave me hope. I had waited for him. Loved him. Excused him. Stayed. And now, after everything, I did it again. I was still the same woman. Still stupid enough to believe him. Still stupid enough to love him.

"He is my mate. He is my love, and I will not let you kill him." "You are a fool," Felipe said. "You are a fool, and you are going to die." "Maybe," I said. "But at least I will die knowing that I tried to save the person I love." Felipe laughed. The sound was sharp and cruel, echoing off the arena walls like the crack of a whip. It was the laugh of a man who had never loved anyone enough to die for them, and who could not understand what he was seeing. "You are a fool," Felipe said again. "A brave fool, but a fool nonetheless."

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” “It’s home.” “Goodness,” Katie tsk-tsked, overplaying her hand, “the once-great and powerful Del’ardo—celestial herald, supreme Orchestrator of all things—forced into occupying a woman’s body. Tell me . . . how is it? All in all.” “You’re trying too hard, pet.” The lithe, unadorned figure sat down again. “All in all? It’s no day at the beach, but I’d say it does have advantages.”