When Regret Comes Too Late Novels & Stories

"I know you never listen to anyone, so I'm not going to bother talking you out of it." Lucy lounged back on the couch in a relaxed posture as she spoke to John. "I just hope you'll think this through. If Sierra and Tommy walk away over this and never look back, are you going to regret it?" John held the bottle in his left hand and poured himself another drink without saying a word. There were already too many regrets in his life. The one he regretted most had happened when he was still young.

“One bad review. One big fight with my old man. Then I started working at the bank. Just like that, the dream got left behind.” There was pain behind his words, the kind that lingers for years. Regret was heavy in his voice, not loud but undeniable. “I regret it every single day, Sil,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. “Every goddamn day. I should’ve kept playing.” Silence fell between us again. Not awkward this time. Just… full. I reached out and touched his hand gently. “It’s never too late, Ed.” He gave me a half-smile. “Tell that to my forty-something bones.”

Why is regret always late? He’d warned me more than once, and I ignored him every damn time. I kept charging forward, knowing full well where it could lead. And now it was too late to back away. I forced a smile, shoving the thought down, refusing to let it ruin what little time we had left. This wasn’t the moment to spiral over something that hadn’t even happened yet. I hopped onto the pool’s edge, bringing myself eye level with him. Then I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him flush against me.

“They mean it. You don’t get in unless the Gate’s fed.” “Fed what, exactly?” one of the teenagers whispered, though we all knew. “Regrets,” the older woman said. “The deep ones.” Jax grimaced. “Of course. Emotional damage DLC.” I stared at the text. “One regret… per person?” I asked. “Or do we—do we share? Is this like group therapy where only one person has to cry for everyone to go home early?” As if in answer, fresh script bled into existence below the first line, letters forming in a slow, deliberate scrawl:

he says gruffly. “It’s called expressing your emotions. Since you only seem to be familiar with anger or lust, allow me to introduce you to sadness. You’d need a heart to feel that, so I don’t expect you to understand.” “Remember, this was your deal. Too late for regrets.” I glare up at him as fiercely as I can manage. “It's never too late to regret something. That's the definition of regret—changing your mind when it's too late!” “Don't get cute with me. And don't even think about running away. I will catch you.”

My chest tightened. That voice again. So convincing. So real. “I came here for you,” he continued. “Because I made a mistake.” My breath caught. A mistake…? “I shouldn’t have rejected you,” he said. My heart skipped. The words I never thought I would hear. The words I had wanted. Begged for. Cried for. But now… Now they felt wrong. Like they came too late. Or worse— From the wrong person. “I regret it,” he continued softly.

Gazing at them with warmth, he reminisced. "Youth is truly wonderful. There are still so many things you can do, and even regrets can be mended. Seeing you two brings me back to my younger days. I, too, once invited the person I loved to admire the flowers. Alas, we ended up parting ways because of a misunderstanding. Now, when I think back, my heart aches with regret. A regret that can never be undone," the flower farmer murmured to himself, offering them a bittersweet smile before strolling away. Kisa cast her eyes downward, the haunting word 'regret' echoing relentlessly in her mind.

I blacklisted his number, and my phone immediately went silent. After this, he stopped for a few days. Soon, I managed to find a buyer for the house given the attractive price I put it up at. After I signed the contract and returned to the hotel, I saw Leonard along the corridor. He approached me and kneeled before me, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Honey, give me one more chance. I'm on my knees…" His knees thudded on the floor and his cries echoed down the hallway. Some curious guests poked their heads out of their rooms to see what was going on.

He was given two choices—death and a life worse than death; he chose the former. Hazel and the others' faces turned even paler upon that realization. Regret alone wasn't the worst part of the toxic concoction of it all. The worst part was that they had finally woken up to reality, but it was too late. They wanted to make things right, but the person they needed to make it up to wasn't there anymore. That was what truly hurt. "Go… Hurry… If you wait any longer, it'll be too late!" Suddenly, urgent shouts came from outside the villa, along with the rumble of moving trucks passing by.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then Bethany sighed, as if tired, but her voice remained firm. “If you move back in, you will not have my support.” “I’m not asking for it,” I replied. Another pause followed my response them Bethany muttered a colder voice, “You will regret this.” I inhaled then voiced skowly, “Maybe, maybe not.” “And if you do,” she added, “don’t come crying to me.” “I’ve never come crying to you,” I replied flatly.