The Love That Never Really Dies Novels & Stories

I stood by the entrance so long an elderly woman nearby asked, "Young man, who are you looking for?" When I said Unit 202, her face lit up. "Oh, that family! They're so in love. They invited the whole building to their wedding. The other day, Ryan had a stomachache, and his wife rushed right over from a meeting. She was worried sick." The more she spoke, the more animated she became. Just then, the door opened. "Ryan Murphy, right? Let's talk." I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. But there, in the foyer, more evidence of their love story greeted me. Travel photos of the two of them hung everywhere.

“Vivian has a bad temper, so I’m taking her on a one-week vacation to help her relax. Tell the doctor to postpone your surgery until I get back.” Whenever Vivian threw a tantrum, he would shower her with tens of thousands of dollars without hesitation. However, when it came to me, even his apology amounted to a pathetic fourteen dollars and three cents. He still tried to romanticize it, claiming that the amount did not matter. It was the thought that counted. Those numbers had special meanings and it was his special kind of love for me. I used to believe nonsense like that. However, now I understood — follow the money and one would find where the love really was.

His handwriting, neat and strong. "Nora, the curse is broken. I said it before. To keep you alive, I can do without anything. If you'll still have me, I'll come back. If you really don't love me anymore, I won't trouble you again. Lucian." I held that note and cried for a long time. How could I not love him.

My body trembled—not with fear, but with something far more overwhelming. He drew a response from me effortlessly, my body clenching at his command. A wave of pure bliss crashed over me, my legs shaking as I was carried over the edge. "Oh my God, you're beautiful," he murmured softly from below. Beautiful? Because of my scars, no one had ever loved me—not truly. Not before. I arched instinctively as his fingers continued to explore me, another involuntary sound slipping free. Realizing how it must sound, I bit down on my lip, trying to silence myself.

"And I guess the only way I can pay for it is with my life." She let out a cold laugh. "Like you'd actually go through with it." I paused for a second, my voice dropping lower. "If I die, I swear I won't love you in the next life." "Save it for when you're actually dead." She looked away and turned to leave. The door slammed shut behind her. She walked out again. The curve on my lips slowly disappeared. I let out a bitter laugh, knowing she still hated me. Sitting down on the sofa, I reached into the drawer and pulled out another document. It was my medical report. Stage 4 cancer. Those terrible words sat on the last page.

There’s rage behind his eyes, a pressure barely held in check. He stops at the settee—his settee, I realize, a replica from the real shop—and drops into it hard. His elbows on his knees, his hands over his face. We sit in silence. He doesn’t look at me once. And when he finally lifts his head, he looks… hollow. “I’m sorry, Eloise,” he says. I open my mouth to respond— —and suddenly, I’m back. Back in Lucy’s coffee shop. The real one. Lucy’s kneeling in front of me, picking up the pieces of a shattered coffee mug.

And that love, real love, is the choice you make every single day. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard. Forever. THE END

Rain, though, remained stoic as she continued with her stalemate with Joshua. She was so calm that she was practically indifferent. “I believe I’ve made myself clear. Perhaps you think that I still love you and would not want you to jump. You might even think that my heart will go out to you. “But Joshua, all the things you’ve done over this period have destroyed the remaining love I have for you. So, I only find it funny that you’d resort to threatening me to be back together with you through suicide. If I don’t love you anymore, why would I care whether you live or die?”

I shouted. "You’d kill yourself just because I rejected you? "I think you're seriously sick in the head, Emmet! "I don't love you anymore. I really don’t love you. "I’ll say it again— I don’t love you anymore! Not at all!" His heart bled as my words echoed in his ears. "I don’t love you anymore. I don’t love you." The phrase echoed in his skull as he listened, strangely calm. Then—a quiet laugh. Water trailed from his collarbone, vanishing into dark fabric.