Poem About Distance Relationship Novels & Stories

Vivian, an 18 year old final year student, graduated from university and got entangled in a love situation. Growing up, Vivian had always dreamed of becoming a top model and working with top models. But what happens when her crush in the university asked her out and she got too attached in the newly found relationship, forgetting that she had dreams to fulfill?. And what happens when she found out that her longtime crush turned out to be the kind of boy she doesn't want to be with? Her mother died when she was just two, she didn't have much memory of her, but she was blessed with a caring father that Carried out both the mother and father role. Life of course has its own way of giving you a beautiful thing but taking it in an unexpected way. This story will make you cry, laugh and even hate some of the characters at some point, but most important, learn that all that glitters are not gold.

Whitney Sands was in a coma for three years because of an accident, and when she woke up from the coma, everyone said she had changed. She used to cling to Henry Jordan wherever he was, but now, she would only see him once every few days. When Henry ended up in the hospital because he was sick, all Whitney did was instruct the domestic help to make some food to be delivered to him. Whitney did not question him whenever he came home late, and when she heard rumors of him having another woman, she acted indifferent about it as well. This continued until one night, Whitney was watching male models dancing at a bar, and her best friend, Summer Thompson, showed her a photo of a grand hall. Henry was holding a woman's hand in the photo and carrying a baby while standing at the doors to greet guests. The electronic banner at the top of his head read, 'Congratulations on your newborn baby boy! Wishing your family a lifetime of happiness.' Summer asked curiously, "I didn't believe it when they said you didn't care about Henry anymore. Do you really feel nothing seeing him having a baby with another woman?" Whitney raised an eyebrow and pushed several bills down a male model's pants before standing up from the couch. "Who says I don't care about Henry anymore? He just had a baby, and as his wife, I should pay them a visit."

"I despise everything about him," Ayisha Duffel always says whenever her path crosses with Kian, the Academy's heir and campus crush. They don't get along, just like cats and dogs. Their relationship is perfect when they are on campus, but when they are outside the campus, they despise each other to the moon and back. How did it all start? Why has it gotten to the point where the relationship has already been contracted? Will they be real in real life? Will they truly love one another? But what if you know that the person you're learning to love's life is in danger? Can you give up your life for him/her? Come on in and let's figure everything out together.

He throws the paper on her face, she takes a step back because of sudden action, "Wh-what i-is this?" She managed to question, "Divorce paper" He snaps, "Sign it and move out from my life, I don't want to see your face ever again, I will hand over you to your greedy mother and set myself free," He stated while grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw, She felt like someone threw cold water on her, she felt terrible, as a ground slip from under her feet, "N-No..N-N-NOOOOO, NEVER, I will never go back to her or never gonna sing those paper" she yells on the top of her lungs, still shaking terribly,

The year was 1983. The sun had set. It was dark outside. Only one dim light was in the Foster family’s living room. “Dad, Mom, I’m willing to live abroad with you.” When they heard their daughter’s words through the phone, Philip York and Angela York were moved to tears of excitement.

I have been in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend, Eugene Walsh, for three years. I finally have enough leave time to visit him after working overtime for an entire month. But when I arrive, I can't reach him. I wait alone in an unfamiliar city for ten full hours before he finally replies. When the call connects, my best friend, Haley Woodward, greets me with a cheerful laugh. "Surprise! I explored Oakhaven for you in advance. It's so much fun! Eugene is an amazing tour guide!" She chatters nonstop about all the fun they've had, as if she never notices the 30 missed calls displayed on Eugene's phone. I listen quietly. Only when she says she's cold does Eugene finally take the phone from her and say to me, "I'll take her back to the hotel first. Wait for me a little while more." The moment he is done speaking, I ask, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Eugene pauses for a second before saying icily, "She's your best friend. Do you really have to compete with her over this?" The unmistakable accusation drains away any desire I have to keep talking. I hung up. Just then, the cab that will take me back to Centuria arrives. The driver takes one look at me and can't help but comment, "Miss, it's already past midnight. This area isn't very safe. How can your family leave you here all alone?" I look down at my shoes that are soaked through by snow and slush. In a soft voice, I say, "Yeah." Then, I smile and add, "They won't. Not anymore."

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

My mother-in-law lives alone. One day, her house suddenly catches on fire. It's a life-threatening situation. I call my firefighter husband several times before he answers impatiently. "I don't care why you're calling—can't it wait? I'm fixing Sophie's pipes!" I tell him about his mother being trapped in a fire, but he merely sneers. "How dare you curse my mother just to make me go home? You're insane!" He hangs up without another word. I'm left helpless. All I can do is wait for his colleagues to arrive, but they only come half an hour later. Their expressions shift to horror when they see the blazing fire. "Didn't Captain Scott say his wife was lying?" My mother-in-law dies due to the delay. My husband even misses the funeral because of his first love. I give up on him and ask for a divorce. However, he rips the divorce agreement to shreds and shatters the urn that contains his mother's ashes. "Drop the act—I would definitely go through with the divorce if not for my mother!" I laugh. He doesn't even know his mother is already dead.

The day my college acceptance letter arrived, Dad cooked a whole table of my favorite dishes. Then he poured himself a full glass of liquor and downed it in one go. “Nineteen years ago, I switched you with my biological son so he could grow up with the city’s wealthiest family and live like a prince. “I kept you from studying because I was afraid you’d turn out too impressive and they’d come looking for you. “But today, their whole family is moving overseas. You’ll never find your real parents now.” He smiled cruelly. “You’re just a loser who got into some mediocre college. You were beaten half-deaf, and you’re missing a kidney. Why would they ever want you back?” I looked at him in silence. What he would never know was that the wealthy family had switched the babies back nineteen years ago. I had been his biological son all along.

I'm getting married. But Ryder, my boyfriend of seven years, has no idea. He recently hired a new assistant, Blair, and has been swamped ever since. The two of them are the toast of the high-society circuit, a perfect power couple frequently seen at galas and parties together. To celebrate a major project Blair landed, Ryder booked an entire restaurant for a celebratory dinner. During the dinner, Blair intentionally swapped my lemonade for a strong cocktail. Unaware, I took a large sip. Ryder just watched, smiling playfully as he asked, “How is it, baby? How does it taste?” He forgot. He forgot that I have a deadly alcohol allergy. My throat swelled shut faster than I could have imagined. As I collapsed, the only sounds were my own gasps for air and a porcelain plate shattering on the floor. That night, I lay in the family's private medical wing. When I opened my eyes, the oxygen mask was still pressed to my face. I nodded at my mother. The arranged marriage. I agreed to it.