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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Love / Romance / Dating
- Published: 05/19/2024
My Love - My Life
Born 1946, M, from Famagusta, Cyprus![My Love - My Life](/storage/story/F75A42D4-8509-D4C8-B15C-8DD0D01A75F4_1716102091-image(201x285-crop).jpeg)
Angelo’s eyes followed Francesca as she walked past, her presence like a ray of sunlight piercing through the morning mist. He couldn't look away, his gaze locked on her graceful figure, as if she were a masterpiece he couldn't help but admire.
“Dude, no. Not again. Please tell me you’ve given up trying to get that girl.”
Angelo's friend's voice broke through his reverie, a stark reminder of the reality he often tried to escape.
“What do you think that I should do to win her? She doesn’t believe that my love is true.”
His friend's concern was palpable, but Angelo's heartache ran deeper than anyone could fathom.
The weight of Francesca's continuous rejection was a burden he carried, a burden he would gladly endure if it meant proving the sincerity of his feelings.
“Angelo, the only thing you are left with giving her is your life! And she definitely isn’t worth it. Give it up, man. It’s time to let go.”
Angelo's brows furrowed, his frustration mingling with his unshakable determination. His friends might not understand, but there was something about Francesca that went beyond conventional attraction.
It wasn't her appearance that drew him in, but the intangible essence of her being.
The narrative of his love was etched in his actions, not just words. He had bared his heart to her, each effort a brushstroke of sincerity on the canvas of his life.
He woke before dawn, a sacrifice he willingly made, grooming himself to perfection. He'd stand at her bus stop daily, a silent guardian ensuring her safety. He'd follow her bus in the evenings, a distant sentinel watching over her journey back home.
Last Valentine's Day, he turned the locker room into a garden of roses, the fragrance of his devotion lingering in the air.
His voice filled the room as he sang, pouring every ounce of his love into 'I Will Always Love You'. The applause was deafening, but Francesca's indifference pierced his heart.
His gestures went beyond his financial means. A silver necklace on her birthday was a testament to his commitment. Yet, she had rejected it, tearing up the card he had poured his soul into. Each rejection stung more than the last, but he persevered, driven by an unwavering belief in his love.
As graduation approached, Angelo's hope was a flickering ember. He had hoped Francesca would finally see the depth of his feelings, that their last day at university might mark a turning point.
But her rejection was a dagger to his heart, the weight of despair threatening to consume him.
Francesca's gaze caught Angelo's as she walked by, and her heart wavered. The familiar contours of his face seemed more handsome than ever.
His love for her had become the talk of their friends, a tale of dedication that inspired both awe and bewilderment.
Francesca's heart had started to change. The admiration she felt for him was evolving into something deeper, something she hadn't anticipated.
As Angelo's presence grew more magnetic, her own heart's whispers became harder to ignore.
Today, she had decided to let her feelings breathe, to let them take root and grow. The admission hung on her lips, a secret ready to be shared.
"I think I’ve fallen in love with Angelo," she confessed, her voice soft yet resonant, the words carrying a weight she had never known before.
Her friends fell silent, their laughter fading. Shock painted their faces, their eyes wide like saucers, as they absorbed the gravity of her declaration.
Angelo's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto hers. The world seemed to still, the cacophony of emotions crashing in his chest, threatening to drown him in a tidal wave of hope and disbelief.
As the words settled in, time seemed to stretch. Angelo's heart raced, his mind struggled to process the magnitude of her admission. It was as if the universe held its breath, waiting for him to respond.
The silence stretched from seconds to minutes. The weight of Francesca's confession hung in the air, a palpable tension as her friends waited for an explanation.
“Why didn’t you tell us? Why were you pretending to hate him?” her friend’s voice trembled with a mixture of confusion and concern.
Francesca's gaze dropped to the ground, her hands twisting nervously. “I don't know. I just wanted to see how far he would go to show me his love. We were enjoying a lot, right? But since today’s the last day, maybe I should tell him that?”
The room remained heavy with unspoken regret. Her friends exchanged glances, understanding the complexity of the situation.
“Francesca, you could have just told him that way before. I don’t like to think that you’ve led him on," another friend chimed in. "For God’s sake, Francesca, why did you reject him this morning too? Didn’t you see the pain on his face?”
The weight of their words crashed into Francesca like a tidal wave. Guilt gnawed at her heart, the realization of her actions hitting her with a force she hadn't anticipated.
She had played with Angelo's emotions, pushed him away when all he had done was offer his heart on a silver platter.
All around her, her friends' voices echoed with disapproval, a chorus of judgment that further intensified her feelings of remorse. She buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the weight of her own foolishness.
"He truly loved you, Francesca," another friend added softly. "He loved you more than anyone I've ever seen."
Francesca's shoulders shook as tears escaped her closed eyelids. She had been so consumed by her own doubts and desires that she had failed to consider the depths of Angelo's emotions.
She had underestimated him, overlooked his sincerity, and in the process, had broken his heart in ways she could never fully comprehend.
With a sudden surge of determination, Francesca wiped her tears and stood up. She couldn't allow Angelo's pain to go unanswered.
She needed to find him, to tell him the truth, to mend the wounds she had inflicted.
Running through the corridors, her footsteps echoed her urgency. She reached the auditorium, searching for any sign of Angelo among the busy preparations. But he wasn't there. Panic clawed at her chest.
She asked around, desperately seeking information about his whereabouts, but no one had seen him for over an hour.
Her heart raced as she hurriedly made her way to the rooftop, where screams of alarm echoed through the air. The sight that met her eyes froze her blood.
Blood stains marred the once-pristine space, and a chilling message written in his blood spelled out his anguish:
'I love you, Francesca'
Horror gripped her heart as she scanned the scene, her heart pounding like a drum. The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave – Angelo had reached a breaking point, his pain so deep that he had resorted to this desperate act. Her knees weakened, and she stumbled backward, the world spinning around her.
Tears blurred her vision as she desperately searched for a sign of him amidst the chaos. Her voice wavered as she cried out his name, her heart aching with a piercing mix of guilt, fear, and love.
"Angelo! Where are you?"
As her voice hung in the air, a chilling silence descended upon the rooftop, a silence that seemed to hold the answer to her frantic plea.
A Heart's Lament
Time seemed to lose all meaning as the truth hung in the air, a haunting echo of Angelo's unfulfilled love. Francesca's breath caught in her throat, her heart aching with an anguish that transcended words.
As the world around her blurred, the cries and gasps of the onlookers seemed to fade into the distance. Her mind raced, a torrent of thoughts and regrets flooding her consciousness.
She clung to the railing, her knuckles white from the grip, her gaze fixed on the crimson message written with Angelo's blood.
The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave, and the weight of her actions pressed upon her chest, suffocating her with an unbearable guilt. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as the magnitude of her foolishness, her selfishness, settled in.
"Idiot! A friend shouted, That idiot has slit his wrists and jumped! He killed himself! Idiot!" His best friend's anguished cry pierced the air, a cry that resonated with the torment Francesca felt in the depths of her soul.
Angelo's pain, the pain she had contributed to, was now a permanent scar on her heart. The love he had offered so freely, the sacrifices he had made, the depth of his emotions that she had ignored – they now haunted her, each memory a dagger to her conscience.
Every gesture of love he had shown, every moment he had dedicated to her happiness, flashed before her eyes in a cruel reel of what could have been. The necklace she had rejected, the song he had sung, the countless times he had been there for her – they now seemed like a testament to her own blindness.
In that moment of tragedy, as her world spiralled into darkness, Francesca 's heart shattered. Regret and sorrow engulfed her, a torrent of 'should haves' and 'could haves' that offered no solace.
Her knees gave way, and she crumpled to the rooftop, her sobs echoing the sorrow that now marked the end of Angelo's life.
"I'm so sorry, Angelo," she whispered through choked sobs, her voice lost in the void that had taken him away from her. "I should have told you. I should have shown you. I love you... I love you so much."
The wind carried her lament, carrying her remorse beyond the confines of the rooftop. But her words could no longer reach Angelo, couldn't erase the pain he must have felt in his final moments.
The world around her seemed to collapse, a darkness so consuming that even the sun seemed to dim.
The tragedy of her own making became an indelible scar, a constant reminder of the love she had taken for granted, the love she had allowed to slip through her fingers.
As the sirens wailed in the distance, the reality of the situation began to sink in.
But it was too late. The heart that had loved her so fervently, the heart that had bared its soul, had been extinguished by her own ignorance.
Francesca's vision blurred, her tears mingling with the pain that gnawed at her heart. In that moment, all she wished for was a chance to turn back time, to tell Angelo that she loved him, that she wanted to spend her life by his side.
But the fates had other plans, and her heartache was a testament to the power of love left unspoken.
As the world faded around her, Francesca clung to the memory of Angelo, to the love that could never be realized, to the regret that would now forever mark her existence.
And in that moment of heart-wrenching sorrow, she understood the true depth of a love that had been lost to the winds of fate.
My Love - My Life(Peter Edward Evans)
Angelo’s eyes followed Francesca as she walked past, her presence like a ray of sunlight piercing through the morning mist. He couldn't look away, his gaze locked on her graceful figure, as if she were a masterpiece he couldn't help but admire.
“Dude, no. Not again. Please tell me you’ve given up trying to get that girl.”
Angelo's friend's voice broke through his reverie, a stark reminder of the reality he often tried to escape.
“What do you think that I should do to win her? She doesn’t believe that my love is true.”
His friend's concern was palpable, but Angelo's heartache ran deeper than anyone could fathom.
The weight of Francesca's continuous rejection was a burden he carried, a burden he would gladly endure if it meant proving the sincerity of his feelings.
“Angelo, the only thing you are left with giving her is your life! And she definitely isn’t worth it. Give it up, man. It’s time to let go.”
Angelo's brows furrowed, his frustration mingling with his unshakable determination. His friends might not understand, but there was something about Francesca that went beyond conventional attraction.
It wasn't her appearance that drew him in, but the intangible essence of her being.
The narrative of his love was etched in his actions, not just words. He had bared his heart to her, each effort a brushstroke of sincerity on the canvas of his life.
He woke before dawn, a sacrifice he willingly made, grooming himself to perfection. He'd stand at her bus stop daily, a silent guardian ensuring her safety. He'd follow her bus in the evenings, a distant sentinel watching over her journey back home.
Last Valentine's Day, he turned the locker room into a garden of roses, the fragrance of his devotion lingering in the air.
His voice filled the room as he sang, pouring every ounce of his love into 'I Will Always Love You'. The applause was deafening, but Francesca's indifference pierced his heart.
His gestures went beyond his financial means. A silver necklace on her birthday was a testament to his commitment. Yet, she had rejected it, tearing up the card he had poured his soul into. Each rejection stung more than the last, but he persevered, driven by an unwavering belief in his love.
As graduation approached, Angelo's hope was a flickering ember. He had hoped Francesca would finally see the depth of his feelings, that their last day at university might mark a turning point.
But her rejection was a dagger to his heart, the weight of despair threatening to consume him.
Francesca's gaze caught Angelo's as she walked by, and her heart wavered. The familiar contours of his face seemed more handsome than ever.
His love for her had become the talk of their friends, a tale of dedication that inspired both awe and bewilderment.
Francesca's heart had started to change. The admiration she felt for him was evolving into something deeper, something she hadn't anticipated.
As Angelo's presence grew more magnetic, her own heart's whispers became harder to ignore.
Today, she had decided to let her feelings breathe, to let them take root and grow. The admission hung on her lips, a secret ready to be shared.
"I think I’ve fallen in love with Angelo," she confessed, her voice soft yet resonant, the words carrying a weight she had never known before.
Her friends fell silent, their laughter fading. Shock painted their faces, their eyes wide like saucers, as they absorbed the gravity of her declaration.
Angelo's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto hers. The world seemed to still, the cacophony of emotions crashing in his chest, threatening to drown him in a tidal wave of hope and disbelief.
As the words settled in, time seemed to stretch. Angelo's heart raced, his mind struggled to process the magnitude of her admission. It was as if the universe held its breath, waiting for him to respond.
The silence stretched from seconds to minutes. The weight of Francesca's confession hung in the air, a palpable tension as her friends waited for an explanation.
“Why didn’t you tell us? Why were you pretending to hate him?” her friend’s voice trembled with a mixture of confusion and concern.
Francesca's gaze dropped to the ground, her hands twisting nervously. “I don't know. I just wanted to see how far he would go to show me his love. We were enjoying a lot, right? But since today’s the last day, maybe I should tell him that?”
The room remained heavy with unspoken regret. Her friends exchanged glances, understanding the complexity of the situation.
“Francesca, you could have just told him that way before. I don’t like to think that you’ve led him on," another friend chimed in. "For God’s sake, Francesca, why did you reject him this morning too? Didn’t you see the pain on his face?”
The weight of their words crashed into Francesca like a tidal wave. Guilt gnawed at her heart, the realization of her actions hitting her with a force she hadn't anticipated.
She had played with Angelo's emotions, pushed him away when all he had done was offer his heart on a silver platter.
All around her, her friends' voices echoed with disapproval, a chorus of judgment that further intensified her feelings of remorse. She buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the weight of her own foolishness.
"He truly loved you, Francesca," another friend added softly. "He loved you more than anyone I've ever seen."
Francesca's shoulders shook as tears escaped her closed eyelids. She had been so consumed by her own doubts and desires that she had failed to consider the depths of Angelo's emotions.
She had underestimated him, overlooked his sincerity, and in the process, had broken his heart in ways she could never fully comprehend.
With a sudden surge of determination, Francesca wiped her tears and stood up. She couldn't allow Angelo's pain to go unanswered.
She needed to find him, to tell him the truth, to mend the wounds she had inflicted.
Running through the corridors, her footsteps echoed her urgency. She reached the auditorium, searching for any sign of Angelo among the busy preparations. But he wasn't there. Panic clawed at her chest.
She asked around, desperately seeking information about his whereabouts, but no one had seen him for over an hour.
Her heart raced as she hurriedly made her way to the rooftop, where screams of alarm echoed through the air. The sight that met her eyes froze her blood.
Blood stains marred the once-pristine space, and a chilling message written in his blood spelled out his anguish:
'I love you, Francesca'
Horror gripped her heart as she scanned the scene, her heart pounding like a drum. The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave – Angelo had reached a breaking point, his pain so deep that he had resorted to this desperate act. Her knees weakened, and she stumbled backward, the world spinning around her.
Tears blurred her vision as she desperately searched for a sign of him amidst the chaos. Her voice wavered as she cried out his name, her heart aching with a piercing mix of guilt, fear, and love.
"Angelo! Where are you?"
As her voice hung in the air, a chilling silence descended upon the rooftop, a silence that seemed to hold the answer to her frantic plea.
A Heart's Lament
Time seemed to lose all meaning as the truth hung in the air, a haunting echo of Angelo's unfulfilled love. Francesca's breath caught in her throat, her heart aching with an anguish that transcended words.
As the world around her blurred, the cries and gasps of the onlookers seemed to fade into the distance. Her mind raced, a torrent of thoughts and regrets flooding her consciousness.
She clung to the railing, her knuckles white from the grip, her gaze fixed on the crimson message written with Angelo's blood.
The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave, and the weight of her actions pressed upon her chest, suffocating her with an unbearable guilt. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as the magnitude of her foolishness, her selfishness, settled in.
"Idiot! A friend shouted, That idiot has slit his wrists and jumped! He killed himself! Idiot!" His best friend's anguished cry pierced the air, a cry that resonated with the torment Francesca felt in the depths of her soul.
Angelo's pain, the pain she had contributed to, was now a permanent scar on her heart. The love he had offered so freely, the sacrifices he had made, the depth of his emotions that she had ignored – they now haunted her, each memory a dagger to her conscience.
Every gesture of love he had shown, every moment he had dedicated to her happiness, flashed before her eyes in a cruel reel of what could have been. The necklace she had rejected, the song he had sung, the countless times he had been there for her – they now seemed like a testament to her own blindness.
In that moment of tragedy, as her world spiralled into darkness, Francesca 's heart shattered. Regret and sorrow engulfed her, a torrent of 'should haves' and 'could haves' that offered no solace.
Her knees gave way, and she crumpled to the rooftop, her sobs echoing the sorrow that now marked the end of Angelo's life.
"I'm so sorry, Angelo," she whispered through choked sobs, her voice lost in the void that had taken him away from her. "I should have told you. I should have shown you. I love you... I love you so much."
The wind carried her lament, carrying her remorse beyond the confines of the rooftop. But her words could no longer reach Angelo, couldn't erase the pain he must have felt in his final moments.
The world around her seemed to collapse, a darkness so consuming that even the sun seemed to dim.
The tragedy of her own making became an indelible scar, a constant reminder of the love she had taken for granted, the love she had allowed to slip through her fingers.
As the sirens wailed in the distance, the reality of the situation began to sink in.
But it was too late. The heart that had loved her so fervently, the heart that had bared its soul, had been extinguished by her own ignorance.
Francesca's vision blurred, her tears mingling with the pain that gnawed at her heart. In that moment, all she wished for was a chance to turn back time, to tell Angelo that she loved him, that she wanted to spend her life by his side.
But the fates had other plans, and her heartache was a testament to the power of love left unspoken.
As the world faded around her, Francesca clung to the memory of Angelo, to the love that could never be realized, to the regret that would now forever mark her existence.
And in that moment of heart-wrenching sorrow, she understood the true depth of a love that had been lost to the winds of fate.
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