The Wasted Ten Years Novels & Stories

"The entire family business... I'll put you in charge of it all." "We'll be the most powerful couple in Italy." I pulled my hand away. "Why can't you just tell the truth?" Soren was silent for a few seconds, then dropped the act. "Does it matter?" He looked at me, his usual entitlement written all over his face. "The outcome is good for both of us." I had to be sick in the head, completely crazy, to still be wasting my time on him. I stared at him for a long moment. Twelve years. I had been through twelve years of blood and chaos with him.

Ten years. He had missed ten years of their lives. Ten years he hadn’t been there. Ava raised them alone without support and without financial aid. His hands trembled at the mere thought of her plight. He should have been there to take care of her. He couldn’t imagine how scared she must have been and yet she refused to seek his help. She did it all on her own but she deserved better. He would do whatever it took to earn her forgiveness.

The bar was filled with low music and distant chatter, but it all felt muted—like I was trapped in my own world of pain. I laughed weakly, shaking my head. Five years! Five fucking years! I had wasted it on Raphael! Loving him with all my might! Loving him with all my soul! Making him meals! Paying almost all his bills. Thinking I was doing the right thing as a soon-to-be wife. What have I been doing for five years then? All I ever wished for was getting married to him and having beautiful babies together. Was that too much to ask for? “I’ve been such an idiot…

"Poor girl... foolish enough to think love is enough to keep a rich successful man..." "She wasted five years of her life and got nothing" TO BE CONTINUED

A physical shedding of a skin that no longer fits. She still couldn't believe it. Ten years. She had wasted the entirety of her twenties on a man who didn't care if she existed or not. The irony was a bitter pill she’d been forced to swallow daily. Elara was the one with the money hidden in dormant accounts; she was the one with the command in her blood. Her father, President Alexander Vance, ruled the entire nation with an iron fist, yet she had lived for a decade as if he were a commoner in some nameless, dusty outskirts city.

I'm just 32; I can't be that old. Ten years ago, I was so ecstatic to get married, not knowing it would be the very thing that would make me lose my spark and forget who I used to be. I'm now looking older than my age, my face worn, my body so lean that I look like I could be blown away by the wind. The hollows in my neck were enough to draw attention everywhere I went, and yet I covered them up every day, putting on a smile bigger than the world while I slowly died inside.

Dad's younger brother, Liam Graham, leaned back in his chair with a smile. "What's gotten into you? Did something set you off, or did you have another fight with your dad?" I told him the flat-out truth. "I just realized it's been five years, and while the cost of living and rent have gone up, my salary hasn't budged an inch. Five years ago, I had two offers in my hand—one for nine grand and another for ten grand. Mom told me to work for you, claiming we're family; you won't shortchange me.

I thought you could save yourself…" "You thought?" She cut him off with a mocking laugh. "So you sacrificed me without hesitation." "We were together for ten years," he said, eyes reddened. "You know what kind of man I am. How could I ever want you dead? Are you really going to erase everything between us over this one mistake?" Mabel looked at him with pity and ridicule. "Yes. Ten years. "It took me ten years to finally see clearly. "In your eyes, I was nothing more than a pawn you could sacrifice for the family's interests."

Jason’s words hung in the air, a startling contrast to the quiet resignation of his grandfather’s plea. The old man turned his head slowly, his cloudy eyes focusing on Jason. A faint, knowing smile flickered on his lips and asked, his voice barely a whisper, "Two years?" Jason’s parents exchanged a look of stunned hope. They had been preparing for the end, but their son had just handed his grandfather a reason to check the calendar instead of the clock. Jason stepped closer and took his grandfather's frail hand and repeated, "Two years, Grandpa. I haven't confessed to her yet because she is in another relationship.

Ten Years The tenth year arrived with the specific gravity of round numbers — not more significant than nine, not less significant than eleven, but carrying the weight of a marker that the mind attached meaning to simply because of its shape. Ten years since the gate. Elara stood at the east wall on the first morning of the tenth year and let the number be what it was — significant and ordinary simultaneously, the way all true things were.