Unbirth Stories Novels & Stories

I have a rehearsed story that I tell people and it's that exact story that they'll find out if they decide to do some digging. “There's not much to tell, my name is Natalie Edmund, I'm an only child, I grew up in Denver, I never knew my father and I lost my mother when I just turned eighteen. I went through a rebellious stage after she died and I ended up pregnant and that was the wake up call that I needed. I enrolled back into school, I went to school through my pregnancy and the boys came at the right time, they came at the start of summer break, so I had three months rest and by the time school resumed I was able to enroll them into a training center for young wolves.

The birthing sanctuary, now a haven for a new life, bore witness to the ebb and flow of emotions—a tapestry woven with threads of love, sacrifice, and the resilient hope of a future where reunions awaited. As Seraphina stepped into the morning light, the birthing sanctuary embraced her with its tranquil presence. The invincible threads, though stretched, held fast, an invisible connection that bridged the void left by Adrian's departure. Seraphina clung to the promise that love would guide them through the trials ahead, whispering silent vows to the birthing sanctuary that had become a witness to the intricacies of their journey.

It wasn't just about our love story; it was about the ripple effect it had created, the countless lives it had touched, and the dreams it had ignited ...across generations. Sarah Jr., her eyes sparkling with a fire that mirrored Lily's at her age, represented the continuation of our legacy, a new chapter in the story of unexpected connections and unwavering purpose. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the porch, I knew this wasn't just a chance encounter. It was a torch being passed, a flame rekindled. Sarah Jr., with her vibrant spirit and unwavering commitment to justice, embodied the spirit of The Unbound Collective.

ARIANA My name is Ariana Winslow, and I am 23 years old. I live with my three brothers, Matthew, Ethan, and Gabriel. Our dad passed away in a car accident while rushing to the hospital from work to see my mother, who was about to give birth to me. My mother was determined not to give birth before my dad arrived. Because of the complications, the doctors had to perform a c-section to deliver me. The next day, when my mother received the news of her husband's death, she left the hospital and has been missing ever since. No one knows where she went.

It was the same conversation we’d had at least a thousand times, but no matter how often I reminded her what it was like to lose a mate, shared my painful memories with her, she still never gave up. I understood where she was coming from. I really did. Witnessing the joy of such momentous occasions as the birth of a child into a loving family was what made the unpredictable and often long hours of being a midwife so worth it. And it was almost enough to make me want that kind of love and family for myself one day. Almost.

Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until she could no longer keep them open. When she woke up again, her stomach felt empty. The only thing that had ever given her hope was gone. The effects of the anesthesia were fading, and the sharp pain in her abdomen made even the smallest movement unbearable. Tears streamed down her face. The baby was gone. Her future was completely shattered. Meanwhile, Matteo was at the nightclub he frequented. In a private room, he drowned himself in alcohol, frustration eating away at him. He didn't even remember the last time he had gotten a decent night's sleep.

"If you harass me again, I'll call the police. If I report you for the online harassment, you'll end up in jail." He never dared to contact me again after that. I later heard James' health deteriorated due to poor eating habits, leading to stomach problems. He passed away soon after, as Thomas neglected to care for him. Thomas also reached out to me. He tried to play the victim and asked to meet. "Mom, I'm your son. You carried me for nine months. You wouldn't really abandon me, would you?" Our bond had already been severed when he protected Sophia's dog. This time, I took out my SIM card and threw it away.

“Then maybe that’s your answer.” Later that night, Ryan stood by his window. The streetlights blurred in the distance. His inbox pinged again a reply from L. Tansey, offering a call. He didn’t answer yet. Instead, he opened a blank page. And he typed: “A Story That Doesn’t Belong To You” by Ryan Calloway He stared at the title for a long moment. Then under it, he wrote: “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s about reclaiming.” Two weeks later.

Perfectly on cue, Theo rubbed his eyes and urged, "Mommy, I want to go home and listen to a story…" I felt nothing when I saw Morgan's expression darken instantly. In my previous life, he had been the one person I yearned for but could never get. But in this life, he was nothing more than a passerby, someone stubbornly trying to stir a ripple in my new life. I said in a light tone, "Did you hear that, Mr. Lancaster? My family is waiting for me. If you would like to discuss a collaboration, please follow the proper procedures. I must excuse myself now."

To keep their child close — legally, cleanly — he had sent my real baby to an orphanage and used a special drug to scramble my sense of smell so I couldn't tell my child had been swapped. What he never knew was that Bellis hadn't pushed him toward me out of any pity for my broken heart. She just didn't want him. Not then. The Silver Moon Pack he ruled over was small and poor and barely worth her time. She kept him dangling but refused to commit, because her ambition was always bigger — she wanted to be the mate of the werewolf king. They turned my child into an orphan. And I never got to see my baby — not even once — before I died.