Sold to my crush

Lily’s POV

“Arghhhh!!!!”. I screamed into the pillow that was laying on the bed as I flung the book away. My cheeks were heated as I continued hiding my face and screaming into the pillow. It was an attempt to hide the way I was feeling from whomever was watching.

I giggled and threw my legs up before searching for the book again. My nose had been stuck in this book all day reading this slow burn romance. In this scene the male lead had finally confessed his undying love for the female lead and they were about to share a kiss. It was their first kiss.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

It was so exhilarating and it made my stomach churn. I loved reading books, especially romance novels. To me reading them was embarking on different voyages through uncharted worlds. Each book was like a new ship, each page a fresh wave, and each story a different horizon waiting to be discovered.

I looked down at the book in my hands and traced my fingers over the embossed tittle of the book.

It wasn’t just a book to me. To me each novel is a symphony of emotions, a delicate dance of hearts that beats in harmony with my own. They are like whispered secrets in the night, promises of love that transcend time and space. Every page is like a petal, soft and tender, unfolding the beauty of love’s journey.

Romance novels are my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the mundane and immerse myself in the extraordinary. They are the ink that paints my dreams, the lullaby that soothes my soul. In their pages, I find the courage to believe in happy endings and the strength to weather life’s storms.

But it’s more than just the tales of love that captivate me. It’s the way these stories celebrate the human spirit, the resilience of the heart. They remind me that love, in all its forms, is the most profound and beautiful aspect of our existence. It’s a reminder that, despite everything, there is always something worth fighting for, someone worth loving.

For me these books were lifelines, threads of hope woven into the fabric of her being.

To me these books are love letters that the universe writes to remind me that I am never alone in my longing for love, that somewhere, someone dreams the same dreams as I do.

I do not just read these novels i live them, breathe them, and carry their love within me.

As I continued flipping through the pages absentmindedly i remembered the first romance novel i ever read. I bet it was still tucked away in the closet of my room in my father’s house.

I had found that book amongst my mother’s things, when we were clearing some things away and I decided to keep it. I bet she was a romantic.

I had read that book a thousand times even so to the point where the yellow pages had smelled of aged paper and forgotten dreams. As i devoured that story, i felt a spark ignite within me. It was as if a hidden part of my heart had been awakened, a part that yearned for the kind of love that could only be found in the realm of fiction. It was an exceptional feeling, like nothing I had ever felt before.

I smiled to myself, as I realized that each romance novel was like a flower in a vast garden of emotions. Some were wild and untamed, bursting with fiery passion and tempestuous love affairs that left me breathless. Others were gentle and sweet, like a soft breeze carrying the scent of roses, their tales of tender courtship and steadfast devotion soothing my soul.

Whenever I read them, I always lived the book, it was like I was the main lead. I also painted pictures in my mind of my favorite characters, lovers who overcame insurmountable odds, whose love shone brighter than the stars. They were my companions on lonely nights, their stories a balm to my restless heart. I admired their courage, their unwavering belief in love, and found my longing to embody their strength and hope in my own life.

My thoughts turned to the lessons i had learned from these novels. Each story was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that love could conquer all obstacles. They taught me that vulnerability was not a weakness but a strength, that to love deeply was to live fully. I cherished the way these novels celebrated the small, intimate moments between lovers, a stolen glance, a whispered promise, a touch that spoke volumes. It was truly a beautiful thing.

My heart swelled with gratitude that I was part of those who got to experience these feelings through these books. I realized that these books had shaped my understanding of love. They had shown me that love was not just grand gestures and dramatic declarations, but also quiet, enduring presence and unwavering support. Through them, i had learned to dream, to hope, and to believe in the possibility of my own happy ending.

In the silence of my room, i felt a profound connection to the countless readers who, like me, found solace and inspiration in the pages of romance novels. They were kindred spirits, united by their shared belief in the transformative power of love.

These books had literally saved my life. On those nights when I felt used and unloved, one those nights where I felt like love never exists and I would never experience love, my romance novels were always there to show me love and to allow me experience it. It always showed me that there was even someone out there like me, passing through the same thing and it would eventually be alright.

These books were a comfort to my soul and a subtle reminder that I’m never alone.

I could talk about my love for books all day if you let me, i could even write a long essay if you want but I really need to know what happens next in this book in my hands.

With a contented sigh, i returned my attention to the story in my hands with my heart open and ready to be swept away once more. As i immersed myself in the tale of love and longing, I knew that no matter where life took me , i would always have these novels to remind me of the beauty and magic of love.

Perhaps this was why I craved for love so much even if it was from the wrong person. Maybe my standards were too high because of these books. Maybe I was asking for too much.

But what exactly was I asking for?.

I want love, pure and genuine love. I want someone to want me, to be utterly obsessed with my existence. I want someone to crave me badly. I want to love and feel so much love that would make my heart burst with excitement like it does when I read these books.

I want to watch the sunrise and the sunset with my lover. I want to write our names on the sand in a beach. I want to run far away and have adventures with my lover. I want to hold hands in public and nervously steal glances with my lover.

I want to feel the thrill of being in love. I want my lover’s eyes to brighten with joy whenever he sees me. I want to love endlessly and not think of myself as a fool. But I could be that if my lover wanted it. I could be dumb, I could be a fool only if he wanted it. I could be anything for him and I wanted that.

I want a love that was gentle and kind. I want to experience love with someone that would do anything and go to any length for me. I want to love someone who would be possessive of me and would rather die than let me go. I want to love someone who would go on his knees for me and worship me.

I wanted to experience a dangerous love.

I want to receive fresh flowers and care for them. I want to smile whenever I go back to look at them because they remind me of my loved one. I want to be asked out like in those books, some with grand gestures and others not so, but I want to feel like I’m worth the effort.

I want to be picked up for cute planned dates and dropped back at home by nine PM. I want to nervously look around while anticipating a good night kiss. I want sweaty palms and screaming into my pillow when I think about the kiss and all the moments we shared.

I want a long lasting love. A love that finds it way into the after life. I want to grow old with someone. Have beautiful kids.

I want to slow dance in the kitchen with my lover while making dinner. I want a love that is so consuming and addictive that our children would gag whenever they see us stealing kisses in between the walls of the house. I want a love that never grows old.

Maybe I was asking for too much. You wouldn’t blame me though. I was still very young, barely nineteen when I got married to Alex and now I’m having a baby. I had not gotten a chance to experience what all these feels like. I had not gotten a chance to experience life.

In a way it some how feels like I had rushed things but although it wasn’t exactly in my power to decide.

But still I wanted more.

I felt like a bird in a cage. I had always felt like that and I thought that maybe getting married to Alex would give me my freedom but I guess i was mistaken.

I wanted to be free. I now have so many regrets, I wish I had done things differently. I wish I never loved Alex. I wish I never agreed to marry him. I should have stood my ground or maybe ran away. Perhaps life would have been better.

Regardless of this, despite the circumstances, I don’t regret having this child.

I had always loved Alex but I had never experienced love. I had never experienced the kind of love I wanted, I hadn’t even experienced the kind of love I poured out to him.

I sighed as I bookmarked the page I was reading and closed the book gently. I placed it under my pillow and walked to the balcony.

As I stood on the balcony, I enjoyed the evening breeze on my face and my hair. I watched the sun set as it casts a warm, golden glow over the scenery. I leaned against the railing with my eyes closed as I breathed in the cool air.

My dress fluttered lightly around tickling my ankles. I held them in place before turning back to the sky. The sky was a canvas of soft pastels, fading from deep orange to a delicate pink. It provided a serene backdrop to my quiet moment of reflection.

I stood there for a while enjoying the air and soaking in the moment until I decided to head to the kitchen, to get dinner started.

I was about to have some fun.