We're Not Meant To Be Novels & Stories

‍ Co‍uldn‍'t stop fulfilling the purpose I was created for. I was n‌e‌ver​ meant to⁠ be anything‍ but this.‍ ‌And that truth was the crueles​t one yet.

Nothing accidental. It was strangely intimidating. “You adapt quickly,” he said. The compliment should have pleased me. Instead, it made me uncomfortable. Maybe because I still didn’t understand him. Or maybe because Elias’s note refused to leave my head. You are not the first wife… You will not be the last… But you still have time to become the first who leaves alive… The words resurfaced so suddenly that a chill slipped down my spine. The note hadn’t said leave. It had said leave alive, and the distinction continued to bother me in ways I couldn’t fully explain.

But those are tomorrow’s battles. Today belongs to us. And as the pack house hums with laughter behind us, as the two men bound to my soul sit beside me, and as the children drift into dreams safe beneath our protection, I know the truth deep in my bones. We were never meant to be perfect. We were meant to survive. And we did.

"I didn't mean to-" "It's alright." She says. "When the beans is ready, you'll spill." I smile lightly remembering the phrase from our childhood. It takes awhile for me to get myself and the apartment holds a silence that can be compared to that of a graveyard, it's stifling and like my relationship failure, it's also my fault.

He is the one, will be so always. We were meant to be married. ~Fin~ **A/N** Thank you, everyone, for taking the time and reading till the end. You can check out my other stories as well on this platform :) You can also follow me on Instagram @jobless._.dreamer Happy reading Asmayi

But there's a certain pull, an undeniable connection that makes me want to believe him. I push open the door to my apartment, the dimly lit space offering me a sense of familiarity and comfort. As I shed my coat and kick off my shoes, I let my mind wander back to the conversation earlier tonight. "We were meant to be," Michael's words ring in my ears. "Just like you and Jayleen are." Meant to be. The phrase is heavy, weighted with a sense of destiny and fate. It's overwhelming, daunting even. But why does it also feel so right?

We fall asleep like that. Still joined. Like if we stay connected maybe tomorrow won't come. Maybe we can stay in this moment forever. But we can't.

"You're a housewife in your thirties. You haven't worked in a decade. Do you really want to end up begging on the street? Everyone knows that even if every couple in the world got divorced, you'd never leave me. Besides, isn't this what you wanted? For me to have a child? "Go see Lily. I want some time alone with Sylvia."

We’re no⁠t the f‍amily we planne‌d to be. We’re better. Str⁠onger. More g‍rateful for every⁠ single m​om⁠en‍t​. And that’s more than I ever hope‌d f​o​r.⁠

Because maybe she will. Because maybe that’s the new Pattern too: Not answers. Just invitations. --- We don’t have a crown. We don’t have a throne. We have mornings. We have storms. We have each other. And whatever comes next— We will not be silent.