Novel & Cerita Unbroken The Book

Everything seemed to come back to my mind again. I don’t know what I should do. I’m confused, scared with what I might learn. I’m scared that what I’m about to learn will break me more into pieces. I don’t want this anymore. I’m fed up of being weak and how I always need to fix my broken self. If only… If only he loves me… I’ll be able to at least accept everything.

I use those images because they fit to my own description and actions. Soooooooo with all excitements, buckle your seatbelt, and dive into Medusa's own very world........🤪 Welcome to the first book of BROKEN SERIES....😫 I love all of you guys😘 Xoxoxo Medusa💙🖤

The sun over Lagos burned without mercy, turning every metal roof into a sheet of fire. At the bus stop, the air quivered with exhaust fumes, impatient honks, and voices raised in the daily battle of survival. Promise stood apart from the crowd, clutching her bag tightly against her body. Her red heels pressed into the cracked pavement, the straps biting her ankles, but her chin stayed level. The words she had written the night before pulsed through her veins: Broken shoes, unbroken steps.

I sat beside it. Tore off a piece of toast. Chewed slowly. Swallowed harder. It tasted like ash. But I kept eating. Because sometimes, even the broken girls have to keep going. Even if no one is watching. Even if they’re still on fire.

Everyone in the pack thought I was a gold digger. I was an outsider wolf with no family, yet Alpha Adrian had chosen me as his mate. His parents, friends, and even the elders insisted I wanted only his fortune and the title of Luna. Adrian alone believed me. Then, on the night of our mating ceremony, I asked him to lend me three hundred thousand dollars. From that night on, he was convinced I was vain and greedy, that the only thing I loved about him was the wealth he possessed as Alpha. When I begged him to attend my father's funeral, he sent me money. Six months ago, when I was diagnosed with wolfsoul degeneration, he believed I was just looking for an excuse to get money. The last time h

While his body was ripped into pieces and no place in the library was free of blood. "Mike." I said barely above a whisper while tears kept on falling from eyes. My whole world had shattered into pieces and dust. *** Keep reading the book for more awaited fun especially in the next chapter. Love, EemanFaisal25

Rejection Olympics? The mark on my neck pulsed harder, sharper. I clutched it instinctively, nails digging into the skin. It burned like it was being re-carved—and beneath it, the mate bond echoed, twisted and screaming in its broken silence. Tears blurred my vision, but I gritted my teeth. “Nope,” I whispered. “Not breaking today.” I picked the book back up with trembling fingers. If Amaya thought this thing was a key, then I needed to figure out what it unlocked.

Yet… even after all that security, I felt vulnerable and defeated as the memories of the people being slaughtered and sheer demonic violence rushed into my head as I leafed through the burnt pages of that book. The book was last rented by a girl preparing for the medical entrance exam to bring her family out of poverty and permanently shift to Arginieth to have a better life. Seems this was the last book she would ever rent. Not just her body, but her dreams and the future of her family buried under this debris with this book. I looked at the sky and took a deep breath. “What’s the point?” I mumbled to myself as I threw the book back into the mountain of debris, which had once been a temple

"People can sleep here if they need to. The owner believes books should be accessible to everyone." I wandered through the aisles slowly, pulling random books off shelves, reading first lines, getting lost in the chaos of it all. Vincent followed at a distance, letting me explore. In a section marked "Poetry," I found a slim volume with a worn cover. I opened it randomly and read: "We are all broken. That's how the light gets in." Something about those words hit me harder than they should have. "Find something?" Vincent appeared beside me. I showed him the page. He read it and smiled slightly. "Leonard Cohen. He understood brokenness better than most."

That the thing he had spent thirteen years and an incalculable amount of money and one daughter’s childhood keeping buried was no longer buried. I picked up my book. My hands were completely steady. Outside the library window the city moved in its indifferent, continuous way. The surface had cracked. Now we waited for the pieces to fall.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​