When They Cry Novels & Stories

Broken Open Aria I didn’t cry prettily. I want to be clear about that because I’ve read enough books to know that women in stories cry in ways that are somehow still attractive — single tears, trembling lips, quiet dignity. That is not what happened to me on Caden’s couch at eight thirty in the morning. What happened was ugly and loud and completely without warning, the kind of crying that starts somewhere in your chest before your brain has finished processing what triggered it and arrives on your face as a full collapse before you can decide whether to let it.

By the time our mates get back, these kids will be a whole lot bigger. I can feel the tears dripping off my face as I lay down next to my mates. They are all surrounding me and have me wrapped in their arms before I can even ask them to hold me. Today was a crazy day, hopefully tomorrow won't be as crazy. We all drift off, crying in each other's arms as we try to process what is happening. ***

The third time Charles cheated on me, I broke down, grabbed a knife, and pressed it to my chest. "If I die today, the Moon Goddess will punish you. This is what you get for cheating!" That was what frightened him. The blade was silver. If it so much as touched my skin, the wound would never heal. My mother rushed over to wrestle the knife away from me. "Zoe, no matter what happens, don't hurt yourself!" "Leave me alone and let me die. He's out there chasing other women, so I'll die right in front of him!" In the struggle, the knife went straight into my mother's chest. She clutched at it, and blood soaked red through her clothes. She was barely breathing, and still she held on to my shirt. "

I giggled, and the next thing that happened shocked me more. Tears cascaded down his cheeks like a stormy rainfall. With each sob that escaped his lips, the weight of his anguish filled the room, suffusing the air with a palpable sense of grief. The sound of his cries echoed through the empty spaces, a haunting melody of pain and loss that reverberated in the silence. In that moment, he was not just shedding tears; he was releasing a torrent of emotions long held captive, letting the raw vulnerability of his tears speak the words his voice could not utter.

when people cry it doesn't mean they are weak, it only means that they had been strong for a very long time. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I-I failed you mom...I promised t-that I-I would take care of e-everyone but I failed! I'm sorry...I'm sorry" the tears started flowing on their own accord. I looked at the glaring moon " Are you happy?huh? Moon Goddess are you happy?!" As usual no reply. I couldn't help but chuckle... " Hey! Shut up in there!...crazy little mutt" a guard yelled and hit my cell door. It only made me laugh and cry harder.

Chapter 79 The Morning Wail (reviewed & edited 4/17/24) *Ana* As the courtroom doors come into view, I can hear something. Someone is crying. No, it's not just crying; they are sobbing deep, shaking sobs. And they sound young. Who’s crying? My chest tightens as we come closer. The sobs echo and have a lingering pull of desperation to them. Whoever is crying, it must be for something important or something terrible.

She ripped the white linen sheet back in one violent, desperate tug. My face, pale and cold and motionless, stared up at the harsh fluorescent lights, empty. She crumpled to her knees on the frigid tile floor, a broken, guttural scream tearing its way out of her chest. “Nick! Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were faking it, I thought… I’m so sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry!” I hovered inches above her, watching her crying violently. I ached to wrap my arms around her.

so much fucking more. These tears are the kind that you cry when you have lost all sense of reality. The kind that you let fall when you are screaming in a quiet room, just begging for something to hear you. Just begging for... I don't know. Help? A cure for the pain? The kind of crying that is so strong that it's hard to breathe. The kind that makes you gasp for air and makes you sick to your stomach. The kind that you only do when you are truly at a loss for words. The kind that you only do when you are completely heartbroken. I have done this.

His tears mingled with the others', a testament to the bond they had all formed through their shared experiences. The soldiers who had joined them in their mission stood in solemn silence, their eyes downcast as they paid their respects to Samuel. Their expressions were a mix of sadness and solidarity, a reflection of the deep impact Samuel had on their lives in such a short time. In the midst of their tears, no words were needed. The sound of their cries filled the air, a raw and unfiltered expression of their grief. It was a cathartic release, a way for them to process the shock and pain of losing someone so dear to them.

“Yeah. Safe drive.” I made it to my room before the tears hit. Locked the door, slid down it exactly like last night, and cried so hard my whole body shook. Not angry crying. Not even the laughing-then-crying kind we’d done during research. Just pure, gut-wrenching sobs that wouldn’t stop. My wolf howled inside my head, mourning, and I couldn’t even tell it to shut up. I cried until my eyes swelled shut and my throat was raw. Cried for the knot and the silver thread and the moon water and the blood we spat out laughing. Cried because we’d fallen in love trying to fall out of it, and now he was gone and I was alone and the bond was still there, wide awake and aching.