Romans & histoires Tragic

In those moments Ynaria suddenly burst into tears, because what she knew about the restless and constantly troubled souls did not work. Ynaria closes her eyes tightly in the hope that the souls will disappear behind her. Feel the edge of her tears and the trembling of her lips. From its dilation, it has completely weakened causing it to fall down sitting on the tiles. Her feeling returned to normal. Although he did not fail, there was still the fear in his chest that the ghosts might touch him again at any time. TRIST was snatching documents when a cold object grabbed his shoulder, causing him to stop. Trist didn't even see the fear, he just sighed, at the same time as he closed his eyes. He

All except Yosef, who lingers in the doorway like he can’t make himself look away. “You too,” Tristan says. Quieter. Almost gentle. Yosef’s eyes flit to mine. In them, I see longing, rage, hurt, and understanding. He knows what this is. A goodbye fuck. A claiming before abandonment. I know Tristan will leave. I feel it. Then Yosef’s gone. The door bangs shut. And Tristan fucking destroys me. I cry, scream, and cum. I’m spent. My words slur. I surrender to his power.

"I'm sorry, Isabel. I'm so, so sorry. I would give anything to turn back time, to choose differently, to hold you and Liam close and never let go. But all I have now are these empty promises, these shattered dreams, this... broken heart..." Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, Tristan pulled out his sword with a shaky hand. And with a guttural cry, he swung it at a nearby tree, the blade cutting deep into the trunk. He left the sword embedded there as its quivering handle was a testament to his anguish. The wound on the tree mirrored the gash in his own heart, the pain of loss and regret more than he could bear.

The air seemed heavy with grief, the silence punctuated only by the stifled sobs and the echoes of the emotional storm that raged within. The profound loss, encapsulated in the demise of Sebastian's father, permeated the atmosphere. Each beat of sorrow, reflected in the tears that fell unabated, became a poignant reminder of the fragility of life. In this poignant moment, grief became a shared language that transcended the boundaries of the physical realm, weaving through the threads of connection and shared sorrow.

Xavier*** I rise—slow, trembling—like a man being dragged from a grave. Every muscle screams, raw and unrelenting, as if grief itself has shredded my skin, replacing it with jagged shards of fire. My bones are burning, my heart a hollow echo, a beat I don't deserve. I gasp for air, but each breath feels like swallowing broken glass, tearing me open again. My fingers curl into fists, not from strength, but to stop them from shaking with the violence of loss. Power lingers beneath my skin, volatile and grief-soaked, pulsing with every heartbeat that shouldn't exist without him.

I added defiantly. Her voice came again, softer, almost pleading. "I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching out to touch my hand. Her touch was warm, almost feverish, a contrast to my steely resolve. Was her remorse genuine, or was she simply manipulating me for her own ends? I couldn't allow myself to be swayed. "Don't touch me," I snapped. "Do you think everything can be undone?" My voice trembled with bitterness. She fell into a stunned silence, but I remained steadfast, my back to her. Behind my resolute exterior, tears brimmed in my eyes, memories of the anguish my father and I had endured because of her flooding my mind. My current predicament was a living testament to her actions.

My tears suddenly fell like a river while staring at the door. This is not the best decision that I've made, but it's not also the worst. I just don't want their family will be ruined just because of me. We met and also end by tragedy. That's how the destiny played with us, it's a huge mess game, but I learned many lessons while playing this game.

But because of this power and struggling for throne, adding my stupidity in the past made my family faced the tragic and miserable ending in their life. In this life, I swear I will never lose again from someone and end up dying pathetically. The end I experienced once, is not where the curtains will fall down. Instead it is where my curtains will rise up and show to them that this woman will perform a magnificent play for them to be entertained. I will be the one who will have the last stand in this second life.

When she looked at the caller ID, she sighed, “I gotta take this.” She stepped a little away as she spoke into her phone and from what I understood, it was a call from work. After she hung up, she looked back at me with exhaustion, “Code Orange.” Frowning, I asked. “What’s that?” “Loads of incoming trauma. Mass casualties expected - a bridge collapsed in the city. I need to rush to the hospital.” She said, and walked to the bed to fetch her purse. “Right, stay safe.” I said. “We’ll talk when you come back.”

No, I can't be thinking that, then can anyone tell me why I was stuck in a fucking trap, this is too much. I tried moving around to see if I could free myself but it just got worst because the movement made the trap move down a little like it was going to drop me but left me still hanging on the air and I didn't know how high up I was, I didn't want to break any bones. I again tried for anything that could free me but came up with nothing, at this point in time I was near tears and the ideas my mind was building wasn't at all pleasing.