The Cost Of Delayed Affection Novels & Stories

"Mr. Jackman, just like the previous nine times, we didn't complete the rehearsal. However, the deposit is non-refundable." I smiled bitterly. "It's fine. I'm the one who held you up." This wedding planning company was the most sought-after in Bawton, and their schedule was really packed. I had paid twice the deposit just to have them run rehearsal after rehearsal. "Of course, Mr. Jackman. You're now one of our valued clients. If you need another rehearsal, just contact me on WhatsApp." His words left me deeply embarrassed. I sped up and left the place. It was already the tenth time Katherine had missed the wedding rehearsal. After skipping rehearsals the previous nine times, she would use a

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

Without sparing the magazine a glance, Ethan waved me off. “It’s too late for a honeymoon, Angela. I’m busy, and we don’t have the kind of money to be spending on resorts when we’re fine where we are.” His voice was monotonous, as if he had been waiting for the day to come so that he could give me an underwhelming response to break my spirit. “I don’t understand, Ethan,” I voiced. “You don’t want to communicate with me anymore. You don’t enjoy doing things you used to with me. Even your parents are starting to seem quite strict. Did I do something?”

I still couldn't understand my thoughts as I let go of my mouth again “I don't like the idea, but it's going to cost you a lot” “So, how much do you want, how much is it costing me to have you stay here?” “Well, a night is 400 dollars, let's say 800 for a day then you multiply it by 6 days, right?” “No, Make it 7days” “5600 US dollars, just that. But you can make it 6000...” I chuckle “...And watch me treat you like a king” I giggled again, checking out my nails, still waiting for his reply.

But one day passed, then two, then an entire week, and I remained completely off the grid. For the first time in his life, panic began to set in. "Ding! Kendrick's affection level has increased by 1%. His current affection level is 26%. "Ding! Kendrick's affection level has increased by 1%. His current affection level is 27%." The System kept broadcasting real-time updates in my mind. At first, its tone carried a hint of excitement, but as the affection level steadily climbed, it began to sound increasingly anxious. "Layla, you've made your point. Playing hard to get for too long is going to backfire. My sensors indicate that his emotional state has been highly unstable recently. It's time t

After his regular job, Elias would sneak off to a construction site to work just to save up enough money to buy me a gift. When he came home, he would hide his blistered hands and force himself to stand straight despite his aching back, hoping I wouldn't notice. On my birthday, he surprised me with a gold bracelet he'd worked so hard to save for. That was when I realized the price he had paid—he ended up with chronic back pain because of it. At the time, I was so moved I thought I could trust my life to a man like him. I never thought love could change so suddenly. He was no longer the man who'd do anything just to make me happy.

was a "Total-Somatic-Merge." As they "Synced," they didn't just "Overload" the system with love; they "Overloaded" it with "Debt." They "Dumped" every "Sorrow," every "Grief," and every "Unpaid-Moment" of the last fifty years into the Vantablack prompt. They "Charged" the "Creditor" for the "Interest" of their "Sovereignty."

The node cleansing, fourteen days, the specific cost of it. The second grief, the entity using the faces of the people I couldn't have, the price of refusing it. Oren's chair. The year of Tuesday mornings finding the position in shorter intervals until it became the baseline, which was not effortless but was correct, and the specific loneliness of being the person in whom all of this converged. The correction requiring the thing it was built on: people willing to carry the cost of doing it correctly. My father, who carried it to thirty-five. Oren, who carried it to eighty-one. Sera, who carried it to ninety-seven and was still carrying.