The Prison Of Love Novels & Stories

Vladimir swallowed, realizing too late the cliff he’d stepped over. “You think your love was freedom?” she said, advancing on him now, her voice low but sharp as obsidian. “You dressed my cage in jewels. Called it a throne. But I was still bound, Vladimir. Chained by spells, stripped of memory, broken so I could be molded into your version of a Luna.” He looked like a man unraveling. “But I gave you everything!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I loved you more than any woman, more than power, more than myself. I could’ve chosen another—but I wanted you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

(POV) Edric and Meira are placed in different small prisons. Stay next door. The difference is that the small jail on the left is filled with temporary prisoners whose contents are male, while the one on the right is filled with temporary prisoners whose contents are all women. Edric roared in prison. All his words cursed Meira.

I sat at the foot of the bed, staring at the door, my heart hammering in my chest. The sense of powerlessness wrapped me in a smothering blanket, making each breath a little more labored than the previous one. Noah had confined me to this apartment. His twisted form of love turned into prison. My situation was unmistakable—I was trapped, and the man I loved turned stranger, obsessed and unhinged.

She gave me a small smile as she sipped her coffee. "As I told you before, Raymond and I weren't in love when we got married. One year ago, I couldn't take it anymore and I wanted divorce." She sighed and looked down. She lifted her head again and smiled. "Maybe that's the best decision I've made. If not for that, he wouldn't have opened up to me. He had someone in his past, who he loves so much."

"No" "But I'm really bored!" she said, excitedly. "Do you know that since you came here I haven't crossed the doorstep? I'm not a prisoner but a wife! You say your brothers are cruel but they give freedom to their wives and they treat them very kindly. Only I'm the one sitting here like the idiot prisoner you see coming out. Together and back together, what purpose will you gain from my survival?” She finished her words, feeling the heat in her body because of her emotion "done?" He said it coldly and calmly

I sit down, the cold seeping through the fabric of my clothes, chilling me to the bone. As the lights dim, signaling the end of the day in this sterile prison, my thoughts turn once again to Zac and Clementine. The image of Clementine's smile, her gurgling baby laughter, fills me with a fierce longing. I close my eyes, recalling the warmth of Zac's embrace, the safety it promises. I whisper their names, my voice a mere breath in the silence, hoping against hope that somehow, they will feel my call, my need for them. The facility might be soundproof, but love, I believe, has its own frequency, one that cannot be contained by glass or steel.

She was so lost in his story. He folded her hands into his and said, “It’s a sad love story. Full of jealousy, hatred, and misunderstanding.” Agatha looked around her. Indeed, this place looks to be that of jail. Although it had the waterfall and the fish and plants to keep one occupied it’s not enough to get rid of the loneliness. If one is to be trapped down here for a long period of time, it could drive one mad with all of this darkness. “It a prison for her, as a prison to rethink of her mistakes.”

The headlines now read like love letters to their corporate marriage. My fingers tighten around the phone until my knuckles go white. Ten years in that hellhole of a prison, and for what? To watch them parade around like some power couple success story while I scrape together schemes that fall apart faster than wet tissue paper. The bell above the door chimes. I glance up, and my breath catches. Elizabeth Walton.

"He would take a common kitchen maid or a prisoner like me into his bed out of spite or lust before he ever looked at you with desire. You are his tool, Yvonne. Nothing more. And a tool doesn't get loved. It gets used until it’s dull, and then it gets replaced." Yvonne didn't slap me this time. She couldn't move. She stood there, paralyzed by the horrific truth of my words, her face pale in the dim light of my cell. I had stripped her of her victory. I was in a cage, but she was in a prison of her own making, trapped in a one-sided love that would eventually consume her. "Get out," I whispered, resting my head against the cold bars. "Go and dream about a man who doesn't even know you exist a

I came home late that night, only to jump in fright when a shadow suddenly sprang out from the bushes. Jean, hair disheveled and flying, rushed to me and threw herself at my legs, clinging to them as she wept. "Seth, I was wrong. I was truly wrong. Please, I beg you—forgive me, will you? I swear from now on, I'll do whatever you say. I'll never go against you again. I love you. I really do. Don't leave me. Please, I'm begging you."