The Objection Of My Affection Mga Nobela at Kwento

I should not have done that. That was not love. It was not a way of showing her the affection I had for her. I knew she most definitely did not believe me when I told her that I loved her. I could understand her rejection of any affection I claimed to offer. I buried my face in my hands as yet another crushing wave of despair hit me and pulled me under, leaving me filled with despair. "Claire, say something, please,"I pleaded desperately. Tears filled my eyes. They were foreign. They stung my eyes and I rubbed them as I backed further away from her.

Not wanting any of this warmth and affection, I convulsed, "J-Just do I-it. I-I don't want your affection!" I stuttered. He raised his eyebrow at my sudden outburst and I thought that he'll be angry but soon that bewilderment was replaced by a look of being entertained as said, "Well that depends on me when and how I want it, Love" I was disgusted when he called me love. I looked away and wiped my tears. He took a step closer and I took a step back. “Maybe I will do it now? Maybe not? Maybe somewhere else? All depends on me.” He gave me the look of a hunter, playing with his prey. He continued to look at me with that look of fascination wanting to devour me but refraining himself and indulgi

It was an Obsessive kind of worry not loving. “ What's not worth it? ” The words slipped out of my mouth, my eyes turning colder as shivers ran down my spine. “ Doing all of this for him. ” She added and I could finally see her motherly love. Not the obsessive kind but just the softest and the most sensitive type of affection. “ Why? ” My lips quivered, tears threatening to fall out of my eyes. “ You know why. ” She averted her gaze away finding ways to escape my piercing - accusing stare.

he whispered, his voice filled with bitterness. “You didn’t love her; you were obsessed with her,” I whispered, knowing that his own desires rather than genuine love for Serena clouded his intentions. “Love frees, but your obsession was so grave that you took her body from the grave to keep her with you. It’s not love; it’s possession.” My words seemed to hit him hard, as he looked up at me with a mix of realization and guilt in his eyes.

What kind of attention is this, is this concern just a form of compassion, or affection that you can't tell me? There are so many questions I want to ask this girl, it's just that I can't afford to ask any of them myself. That's the same question I asked myself. This sense of belonging, this sense of selfishness to hold this girl by my side. Is it purely out of lust, or is there something else. Yeah, something that should have been lost along with my dead heart. I swallow this disappointment, Aphrodite is just my forced wife, isn't it like that....

“Maybe he's falling for you, Sasha bear.” I instantly shake my head, his words from the other morning echoing in my brain, he said those right after telling me he loved me. “I Don't think so, he said he's incapable of feeling that way for anyone and his mom herself told me not to feel bad if he's not affectionate with me.” “No ty govorish, chto on da.” (But you say he is.) Luna points out, an actual fact. He's overly affectionate with me, almost obsessive.

The idea disturbs him. Affection is a term he never employs. Affection is vulnerability. However, when he gazes at me, he experiences something perilously similar to it. Something intense. Something belonging to someone. Something he won't acknowledge by name. His jaw tightens. He ought to leave. However, he does not. Rather, he pays attention while I murmur to myself. "I don't love him," I repeat, as if attempting to persuade myself. Raymond grins, yet his eyes stay shadowy.

I can’t give birth here, no in this situation. I look at Sam and he looks back at me with hopeful eyes. I know that look. It was the same look that he gave me before I left him the first time. The look of hope that is laced with love. I know that he loves me, but what he is doing right now is not a product of love. It was a product of obsession. Because a love that is true would never be selfish. It would never make the person that you love uncomfortable.

Love is not a gift. It is a liability. In the world I was sold into, affection is the crack in the armor where the knife slides in. It is the soft underbelly that gets gutted. I sit at the kitchen table, staring at the topographic map until the contour lines blur into a headache. I am building a wall. Brick by brick, silence by silence, I am reconstructing the fortress around my heart that I foolishly let crumble over a crate of peaches.

I opened my mouth to refuse her offer again, more vehemently this time but Monique held up a hand. "Please. Don't just refuse outrightly. Think about it at least.” “There’s nothing I have to think about,” I responded and rose to my feet. “I cannot be your lover. I respect my wife greatly and this will be an insult to her. I’m sure you’ll find someone else who might be interested in this proposal.” She nodded with a forced smile. "Of course. I understand completely.” But I could see the displeasure masking her face. *********************************** AMELIA’S POV