Deep in the Soul, Nikkola

Deep in the Soul, Nikkola

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing12h 59m
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She loved books-deep in her soul, she cherished every page, her own handwriting scattered across the margins, capturing thoughts only she could understand. She had always dreamed of something-something vast, something inevitable. A force so powerful it could upend her entire existence in a single moment. And she knew, deep down, that force was love. Love-the invisible thread binding two souls, mythically one but torn apart, fated to seek each other in the span of a lifetime. Love was bliss, but love was also brutal. What did they truly know of it? What did her hopeless romantic heart understand about meeting him-there, in the chaos of a tangled, restless crowd? How would the universe-the strongest force of all-align these two wandering souls? Would they find each other with the grace of a spirit effortlessly tethered to its mortal body, or would they stumble, wounded and lost, like halves of something indivisible yet aching for reunion? "You don't have to risk it." "And yet I did-because I can. Because I want to. And I will, Nikko... Let me have this one." Conquettish #1 2022 - 2025
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DIABOLIC SERIES 3 All my life I've lost my breath. It would happen over the simplest things, if I stretched too high to catch a ball, lifted something for too long, if I sneezed, if I talked. Other times I would loose my breath because I had a panic attack, or was yelling or being yelled at, if I was exerting myself on a physical level. Having the wind knocked out of me is a familiar feeling. But I didn't truly know what it felt like to loose the air in my lungs, loose the feeling that has kept my alive my entire life. I didn't loose it when I fell in love, I didn't loose it when I found out one drunken night with the girl I love would mean a baby, I didn't loose it when I found out that I'd actually be a father. No, I lost that when she told me that she doesn't love me. When she spit in my face how much she can't stand me, how I've ruined her life, that she doesn't want me in any aspect. I'm not her 'type' whatever that means, seeing as she quite willingly had sex with me. Her saying this made this ugly, lonely and depressing thought hit my diaphragm. Violet Thompson is carrying my child. And she despises me for it. The way I came to this conclusion was simple, Nonnie- -that's what I call her, since her middle name's Noel and I wanted something to call her that if I shouted it in the middle of a crowd, only she would turn to and know it's me- -told me that all she wants is someone there. A father for her baby, a physical presence. Not a mind, personality. Not a person. A body. A shell. I've been a dead man walking. And I was that shell, was just a body... until I found him.

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