The Heartbreak Diary Mga Nobela at Kwento

**David’s POV** Here in my New York apartment, as the relentless city rain echoes my mood, I find myself repeatedly drawn to the old, worn pages of Scarlet’s diary. This morning, the echoes of last night's indulgence weigh heavy, a migraine pulsing in the background as I numb it with the usual analgesic. But the diary demands attention once again. I flip to the last entry, a letter penned for me, her "Bumblebee," written in a moment of profound solitude and clarity.

Like everything she couldn’t have. And suddenly, it hurt more than usual. Because this time, she didn’t feel like she was just watching him leave. She felt like she was letting him go — again — and it didn’t feel any easier. It felt like a piece of her heart was driving away with him. And no amount of pretending could change that. Later that night, she found herself reading back through old diary entries — ones she hadn’t touched in years. One entry caught her eye. Written in shaky handwriting, dated when she was thirteen:

Zara pov I always thought heartbreak would be loud.That it would crash into me like thunder screaming, violent, impossible to ignore. I was wrong.Heartbreak was quiet It sat in my chest, heavy and unmoving, stealing my breath one slow second at a time. I stood in front of Alpha’s desk, my hands clenched tightly at my sides, nails biting into my palms as if pain there might distract me from the ache spreading through my chest. His office smelled like pine, smoke, and something darker that always made my knees weak. It had always been my favorite place in the packhouse until today.

Enough to fake stability. But as I reached for the paper towels, my hand trembled. The trembling didn’t stop. It just…settled into my bones like an aftershock. And I realized—this wasn’t just exhaustion. It was grief. Grief for the girl who had once felt safe in the world. The girl who could ride in a car without mapping every turn. The girl who didn’t flinch at soft knocks or stare into mirrors trying to find her own eyes. She was gone.

When the petals fell, my Heartbreak Level soared to almost 90. I moved out early the next morning. Freddie stood by the window, watching my slender figure fade into the distance. His heart twisted in agony. The last 10% of the Heartbreak Level naturally came from the words he had spoken the day before his wedding. The moment I closed my eyes, my Heartbreak Level finally hit 100%. The system said he should go and say goodbye. But knowing the memories would remain, Freddie chose not to. Instead, he said silently in his heart, "Goodbye, Rosalie."

"I'm sorry, what?" "I said I'm gonna make you feel so bad, you wouldn't feel a thing at th_" "Yeah, yeah, I got that part. I mean, why? Never gone through a heartbreak before?" "Oh my god Diana, you don't understand what this is all about, do you?!" She yelled in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air and finally, the gun was away from my face. "I'm sorry Cassandra but I don't understand. I've had my heart broken before and I didn't go so extreme cause I understood it's totally normal. Don't be so hard on yourself, you're just a teenager. It happens to the best of us"

hurt is an understatement. Leaving me standing on the sidewalk, infront of Sara's house with tears threatening to pour out a river. I look at Dai's retreating car and wonder why I keep falling for a man who thinks I am cheap. I did try to keep it in but my eyes betrayed me when I step into the house. I cry out my broken heart and my girls hug me till there's no more tears to cry.

Waves of conflicting emotions crashed over me, and I finally allowed a few tears to fall—just a trickle each day, but enough to remind me of my heartbreak. I have shed the last of my tears. Sheppard Choi, that selfish and deceitful billionaire, carries the blame for my friend’s death, for breaking my heart, and for little Dynasty's significant loss. He has to face the consequences of his actions—he must pay. Biting my lip, I straightened up and reached for the pen resting on my leather-covered diary. Unscrewing the top, I take a moment to gather myself before writing. My pen hovers over a blank page as I exhale deeply, contemplating my whirlwind of thoughts and feelings.

his hand rubbed between my legs, pleasure built fast despite the pain in my heart. My body shook, I came hard around him, crying his name, “Mr. Havisham,” the waves hit me strong, he kept thrusting through it, his breath heavy in my ear, “That is right, Maya, give in like she did,” he said, his movements became faster, rougher. He finished inside me with a low groan, warmth filled me, we stayed connected for long moments, his body heavy on mine, I felt used and broken, the diary sat open on the desk beside us, Sarah’s handwriting staring back at me.

Maya let out a bitter laugh, tears welling up in her eyes—yet not a single drop dared to fall. That familiar pride, that unyielding dignity, wouldn't let her break. "Maya," she muttered to herself, a tight whisper lost in the night, "what are you still hoping for? He never had you in his heart." Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Diana. "Maya, now you finally see it, don't you? Oscar's heart was never with you. If I wanted, he'd toss you aside in a second."