Tragically Beautiful Meaning Novels & Stories

The world thinks Seraphina is the luckiest woman alive. A famous supermodel and married to Maximilian Thorne, the richest man on earth. She lives in a mansion and wears diamonds every day. But behind closed doors, her life is a nightmare. Her husband treats her like a toy he can break. His two brothers and sister treat her like a servant. Even his mother joins in on the abuse. She has no one. No way out. Until the new bodyguard walks in. His name is Killian Cross. Six years ago, Seraphina was his whole world. Then she ran away, leaving him alone to raise their baby daughter. He spent every day for six years hating her. He didn't take this job or hide his identity to protect her, he took it

"You sound almost–" "Haughty, ungrateful, depreciative?" she cuts me off, unnerved, even though I was going to say exactly that. "One looks at a painting or a sunset or a cake and calls it beautiful. A human comes into sight, pleasing one's eye, and he or she is called beautiful too." "Your point?" "Our definition of beautiful is superficial and skin deep," she looks at her hand in the water. A tiny orange fish passes through the space between her slender fingers. A smile blesses Celeste's lips and my eyes. "It's more about what lies beneath the surface."

As I watched Janet slowly achieve the dream she had in my previous life, I could not have been happier for her. Every gift from fate came with a price. The deeper Janet sank into that illusion of vanity, the harder it would be for her to climb back out. All I had to do…was make sure that when the price finally came due, she would have no way to turn back.

He wasn't going to console her or try digging deep into why she was crying. " You know what Carlos, once I thought that I was really beautiful and special, and that with my accomplishments at such a young age, I could get everything that I've ever wanted. But look at me, alone, abused, depressed, with nothing at all," Elvira said in pain.

“I don’t know flowery Latin words like you, but with the amount of vocabulary I have, and the soul of language that I can comprehend… I want to say that I have never seen a man more beautiful than you…” “Handsome would be a better word choice, don’t you think?” I said. “No. Handsome means good looking and has more visual appeal, while beautiful means pretty and attractive, giving pleasure to the senses. And you, Zephyr, you pleasure all my senses... unfathomably, beautifully.” “A great philosopher once said, ‘words have no gender, just meaning that you attach to it.’ You proved it,” I said, entwining my tongue with her as she kissed me more intensely.

His beauty is caged and in pain. ****** ******

"The result is not the same. In one version, we fight and we might lose. In the other version, you walk into a slaughterhouse willingly and die for nothing." "It wouldn't be for nothing. It would be for you. For all of you." "It would be a waste." My voice broke, and I hated myself for it. "You dying is not a sacrifice, Lyra. It's a tragedy. And I won't let it happen." "You can't stop me." "Watch me."

Your melancholic temperament made me feel that it was a kind of beauty that was stunning. 'There were many times where I particularly wanted to be a person like you. However, I never had such good training, and I could never become a person like you, so I could only be friends with you.' 'However, at this moment, I finally understood that any kind of melancholic beauty comes with a price. Also, this price is incredibly heavy. It's so heavy that it makes you unable to let out a smile. All you feel deep down is just endless pain and sorrow. Only then could you exude that kind of melancholic beauty.'

I thought that it was going to be a complete waste if something so beautiful, so touching and yet so hauntingly heartbroken would be swept under the rug forever. “I think it’s a beautiful and touching song. It’s sad but beautifully sad,” I replied honestly. --To be continued…

“What’s that?” “A form of PTSD. Something that affects many hostage and kidnap victims. Prolonged trauma without a viable means of escape will trigger it, but we’re going to kick its ass, and I don’t want another apology slipping out of those gorgeous lips. You’re entitled to feel the pain and the loss and helplessness and sadness.” Smiling softly, she asked, “Are you giving me permission to cry myself ugly?” “Ma’am, I’m giving you permission to heal, and right now, I’m looking at the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. ‘Ugly’ doesn’t exist when it comes to you.”