What We Lose Novel Novels & Stories

She died in her throne chair, with her bloody crown on her head, they made her body the spectacle of the kingdom reminding the power not only The Royal Blood can have. Yubin was sure that this is that novel. The title of the book was 'Lost Queen' a tragic romance story, written by: Olavier Belet an English/Japanese author... The novel he wrote was about 20 years ago, it was a novel it never got the ideal reads since it can't be read below 18-year-old, this book has too many fetish scenes and blood that might cause a child to dream a nightmare... So it was privately banned, so few people we're able to get this book before it gets banned.

" I'm jealous that you get to speak to my wife whenever you want to speak to her because I only got to speak to her this morning and I didn't tell her that I was lying down to cape Town or did you tell her that I am in cape Town and I am spending time with the kids because she was worried that I was going to be home alone and Johannesburg and there was no one who was going to be with me and help me through whatever the hell I'm going through which is new to me. " "Being afraid of losing something is not new to you ,being afraid of losing what you have is not new to you, they are two different things, the first one is temporary and the latter is permanent because you've already attained it.

And us: the secret lovers, the fleeing couple, the rush-job marriage. We were losing. We were being buried under the crushing, respectable weight of Clara Finch’s narrative. And the gavel hadn’t even fallen yet.

Iris did not loose virginity, she killed her inner self, lost her sanity, lost her faith in humanity, she lost trust in people, she lost feeling called life, lost her whole being. If there was anything else to loose, she would have lost that too

John had indeed lost her on a poker table as if she was nothing but another of his belongings just like his watch or an old table. She pushed his chest with all her might but failed. It was her end. In this world where women were progressing, she was traded off on a poker table. She smirked at her fate. She was nothing. Nothing, but a lost bet. Her body gave up and she lied there while he assaulted her neck. She wasn’t moving at all. Fuck, what is this new tantrum. He looked at her face. She was crying. “Can you stop crying?” But she cried harder.

Having survived death itself, I'd lost nearly all my hunger for material things. For the rest of my life, all I wanted was to stay near Claire and live, slowly and quietly.

It was time to end this for good. The potion burned bitterly as it slid down my throat, setting every inch of me ablaze. My muscles twisted in agony, like countless ants were devouring me from the inside. I clutched my chest, curling into a ball as sweat poured out of me in rivers. But none of that pain compared to the ache in my heart. I knew this suffering was necessary. It was the only way to cut Grayson out completely and start fresh. When the torment finally faded, relief washed over me. Even the air felt fresh. I pulled off the ring he'd given me at our wedding and tossed it into the street, watching as passing cars crushed it.

[Nowo’s POV] In this life as a defender, I've come to understand that losing someone precious doesn't grant us the luxury of time or the right to mourn. Not until we succeed in reclaiming our land from the darkness. Only then, perhaps, will we be free to embrace our vulnerability. Despite anticipating the horrors that would unfold, the future, when it materializes into painful reality, catches you off guard, no matter how well you foresee it.

“There’s an elegiac tone to your book, Gwen. A sense of loss amid the win. Do you still feel that?” The table quieted, listening. I thought of the ghost of Pryce’s abandoned crane on the northern cliff, of the quiet, expensive battle he was still fighting with geology. I thought of the lingering weariness in Lanc’s shoulders, of the permanent alertness in Chloe’s eyes. “Yes,” I said honestly. “You don’t go through a fight like that without losing something. Innocence, maybe. The idea that your home is just yours, and not something you have to defend. But…” I looked around the table, at the faces lit by the warm pub light. “You gain a deeper sense of it, too. And you gain this. A family you f