Things Left Unsaid Book Novels & Stories

I’m afraid that saying them out loud would break the only connection we have left. ​I guess this is what they call it. This is the quiet, heavy reality of UNSPOKEN LOVE.

“It’s this.” Liv’s gaze dropped to the book, recognition flaring in her expression. “A hard copy of your first book! And what’s wrong with it?” “It was delivered to the mansion this morning,” I explained, my voice low, as if the very act of speaking it would summon whatever dark force was at play. “I don’t even know how they found it, but it feels… ominous.” Liv picked up the book, turning it over in her hands. “Who sent it?” “I have no idea,” I admitted, the knot in my stomach tightening. “There was no name, no return address, nothing. Just a note inside that said, ‘Some things never leave us, do they? Just like first love.’”

Because the space between them The one that had been filled with silence, distance, and things left unsaid Was no longer empty. And this time They weren’t ignoring it.

How much did my wife once love me? The year we graduated from college, she spent two whole years trying to convince me to marry her. She proposed three times. The first time, I said no. The second time, I said no again. It wasn't until the third time that she gathered all our closest family and friends, then got down on one knee in front of everyone. She looked at me with a determination that left no room for hesitation. In the end, she won me over. On our wedding day, I gave her a small wooden box. Inside were exactly one hundred black metal tokens, neatly arranged in rows. I gave them a name. Second Chances. Whenever either of us did something that hurt our marriage or broke a promise, we

Somewhere in a grove no one could map, a book lay open on a flat stone its pages blank save for a single line, written not in ink, but pressed with intention: “Here is where we did not speak and still, the world listened.” A wind turned the page. Then left it open for the next to come.

My thumbs hovered over the screen as I opened the notifications. Cain’s message read: "Eli, you need to listen to me. There is something else connected to that book. We didn't write everything that's in there." Cole’s message read: "Do not look at the back pages. Whatever you do, do not open it alone." I lowered my phone slowly, my breath catching in my throat. I looked down at the heavy sociology textbook clutched in my left hand.

William felt the familiar cold certainty settle in his gut, the strange, unsettling feeling he got right before making a massive, irreversible business decision. He was standing on the edge of the rest of his life, about to commit to a future that felt entirely too comfortable, too calculated. He gripped Sophia’s hand tighter, reminding himself this was the right path, the perfect path. He wanted to tell her he loved her, to reassure himself that this union was based on feeling, not just strategy, but the words felt hollow on his tongue. He simply smiled, trying to sell the feeling to himself one last time.

"Thank you, Shawn. I won't ever do this again!" "Good. Now go home, and please dress more appropriately," I reminded her. Eleanor thanked me again before turning to leave. However, she suddenly looked back at me as she reached the door. She bit her lip and asked, "Shawn, are you lonely? We could pretend we don't know each other." I felt my blood pressure rise and shouted, "Leave now!" Eleanor gave me one last coy look before finally leaving.

Hi!!! Just wanted to pop in and say thank you for taking the time to read my work. This is the final book in my Unspoken Trilogy. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Book 1 - Unspoken Promises Book 2 - Unspoken Truths Book 3 - Unspoken Desires If you’re starting this novel without reading the previous books - you may get a little lost with all the characters and the fast paced events. ——————————- Chapter 1

But about us, about Sylvia, about Theo, about the whole tangled mess between us, we said nothing at all. Linus didn't put the bookmark back into that book, but he didn't throw it away either. He slipped it into a thick volume of conference proceedings he almost never opened, and pushed it onto the top shelf, like a piece of evidence deliberately sealed away, yet impossible to erase. We both silently avoided that section of the shelves.