When Sadness Is At Your Door Novels & Stories

‎Pauses at the door. ‎“I still love you, Nora. I always will.” ‎I don’t answer. ‎She walks out. ‎The door closes softly behind her. ‎I stand there. ‎Alone. ‎Again. ‎And the rage is still there. ‎Burning. ‎But underneath it… ‎Grief. ‎For the friendship I lost. ‎I sink down exhausted on the couch. ‎Where is he when I need him the most? I feel like I'm sinking in this vast, black ocean with no life guard or someone to help. My anger simmers down and leaves me broken with grief. I'm so fucking exhausted.

Back in my room, I slammed the door behind me, letting the force of it echo through the walls, as if it could somehow chase away the growing tide of disappointment. The edges of my anger started to soften, replaced by an aching sadness that wrapped around me like a poorly fitting blanket. I wanted to scream, to cry, to let it all out, but the tears wouldn't come.

We sat down and I shrugged, "food will be nice thank you..." Their faces as soon as I walked in changed. They seemed sad or depressed and I hated that. I shook my head a bit knowing I'll sound like a bitch for what I'm about to say, "look guys... I know mom is gone and I'm hurting anyhow I am, but you shouldn't be like this... this feeling, the sadness you put on when you see me is why I left in the first place."

This way I can just wash everything away. I get in the shower and feel everything just slowly melt away in the heat of the water streaming down my body. Washing the sadness and aching bones away with each minute that goes by. I get out the shower to hear a knock on my door, "One minute." I get my robe on and walk to the door. I crack it to see who it is, not wanting anyone to see me so exposed.

"Sandy it was the worst day ever .Huuuuh.I almost got killed. I knew something would definitely happen when I forgot to take my phone .Huhuhu" Eventhough her friend was annoyed with her crying but still she let her sadness out through her cry. But suddenly there was a knock on the door .She got frightened by the knock that she told Sandy to hold on. She then went towards the door and peeped through the door hole. when she looked through the door hole ,no one was there.She felt relieved and when she was moving towards the phone to pick up again, suddenly she notices that the window was open and so she moves there to close the window.

Noticing my assigned room is next to hers. As I pass her an overwhelming feeling of sadness grips me. It’s not me. It’s her emotions I can feel. Like waves rolling in on the shores, one after another, her sadness washes over me. I ignore it. Or at least try not to show that I can feel her. I grit my teeth and without another word brashly open and close the door behind me leaving the three Lycans in the corridor.

When I pushed open my bedroom door, Lyra was practically vibrating with happiness on the chair beside my bed. A pizza box sat open on my sheets like some absurd offering to a goddess I no longer felt worthy of worshipping. Grief keeps stretching me thin — sometimes I go numb, sometimes a small thing makes all my feelings flood back at once. Humor and hunger both do that, in different ways.

The wheels of my suitcase grind against the gravel as I make my way to Angela's front door, the weight in my chest mirroring the heft of the bag I'm dragging behind me. The sky is a dusky gray, like the color of the ocean during a storm, and it seems fitting—my life, too, is caught in a tempest. I pause for a moment, taking in the quaint porch with its hanging pots of cheerful petunias swaying gently in the wind. Relief washes over me in an unexpected wave, mingling with the profound sadness that has taken up residence in my heart.

The world moves slowly, kindly. At the apartment door, I pause. Once, doors meant endings. Loss. Fear. Now, a door is just a beginning. I place my hand on the knob, inhale deeply, and whisper: “I’m still here.” Not broken. Not rebuilding. Not waiting for something to define me. Just here. Alive. Present. Becoming. I push the door open and step inside. And for the first time in years, the world feels gentle enough for me to belong in it.

Chapter 39 – What Bars Can't Fix (Serena's POV — City, Three Weeks Later) Grief is not one thing. People talk about it like it's a season — something you walk into and eventually walk out of, blinking, back into the light. But it isn't. It's a roommate you didn't invite, who rearranges your furniture at three in the morning and never apologizes, who sits across from you at breakfast reading your newspaper and breathing too loudly. It had been three weeks since I left.