This Confession Has Meant Nothing Novels & Stories

Proof that I wasn’t just a toy. But the way he said it—like it was a statement of destruction, not salvation—terrified me. He wasn't confessing love or even affection but like he was confessing a catastrophic loss of control. “Mark…” I whispered, my whole body trembling with the weight of his unexpected revelation.

Then, a voice—deep, steady, with the kind of authority that scraped down my spine. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I whispered. “How long since your last confession?” he asked. I smiled to myself. That voice. It didn’t sound bored. It didn’t sound old. It sounded young. Strong. Like it still believed in rules. That made it better. “A few minutes,” I said softly. “Depending on your definition of sin.” He paused. “What are you here to confess?” “That I think about fucking during Mass,” I said. “A lot.”

“Bless me, Father… for I have sinned against you.” My voice came out low and shaky. My knees dug into the hard wooden kneeler as I stared at the lattice between us. The confessional felt smaller than usual, the air thick and heavy. “It’s been seven years since my last confession.” He stayed quiet for a moment, then let out a deep, rumbling hum that vibrated straight through me.

“I’m yours! Ahhh—fuck, Nate, I’m yours!” The dirty words spilled from my lips without a second of hesitation. I didn't care about Derek. I didn't care about my marriage, my reputation, or the consequences waiting for me tomorrow. All that existed in the entire universe was the wall behind the bed frame violently crashing against the drywall and the wet, slapping sound of our skin colliding, and the absolute destruction Nate was wreaking upon my body. He let out a deep, chest-rumbling groan at my confession, his pace turning fast, frantic, and completely lethal.

"It's not meant to be helpful. It's meant to be honest." "I've been replaying his words in my head for two weeks now, and each time, I can't help but want him to mean it, and I hate myself for it." She arches a brow, "Why?" “Because if he means it then that’s not a small confession, Ava. That’s not an ‘I like you' confession or a 'let’s see where this goes.’ That’s—” I gesture helplessly. “That’s a 'life-altering' confession that's designed to fuck with me."

How in the name of God is that possible? “I don’t understand. I thought that there was no hope for redemption after what I did. I have sinned. I have broken your heart. I let you die for a crown.” He whispered feeling the eyes of skies cast down on him as if they were recording this confession. The tempo of air roared in the night sky when suddenly, the darkness lifted and stars peaked on the horizon.

She didn’t answer right away. “I’m not justifying what she did,” she said finally. “I’m just saying people change.” I let out a heavy breath. “Too fast.” Silence stretched again. I sat back down, sinking deeper into the couch this time. “I miss her,” I said quietly, not looking at her. The confession slipped out on its own. There was no point in hiding it. “I know.” “I shouldn’t,” I added. “After all this, I shouldn’t.” “It doesn’t work like that.”

But my voice shook as I spoke. “I’ll confess,” I muttered, the words tasting like poison in my mouth. The officer leaned forward, surprise flickering in his eyes. “What did you say?” My chest heaved. “I’ll confess. I… I can’t fight this anymore. The walls are closing in, and no one cares whether I live or die. He promised he wouldn’t leave me, but he did. So what’s the point? I’ll take the blame, if that’s what you all want.”

So, he acted like a winner, looking at me as if I was a mere fool. In a certain sense, he and Emily were really well-matched. I took a small sip of my coffee. It was a little bitter. But compared with the bitterness I had in the past few years, it was nothing. "Mr. Hall, you shouldn't show your confidence to me. It should be shown to Emily. As for whether I get divorced or not, that has even less to do with you. I'm not doing this for either of you. However, I do hope you can persuade Emily to agree to the divorce as soon as possible."

I said in a rush but regretted it immediately. Why am I speaking like this? Even I didn't understand why I was so angry! Or perhaps I did, but didn't want to acknowledge it. The prospect of leaving him and not hear even his stupid sarcastic words had finally caught up with me. Nightmares about our separation and my lonely life in a faraway country have become frequent now, but this was the first time that I could feel it, literally, as I stood one foot away from him. A hot flush spread to my cheeks for a different reason and my eyes began to well. I turned my face away and pulled my Pooh bear shirt back on, wiping my eyes dry on the way. "Mo, that shirt is three years old and it has a huge i