Patterns of Pain (eBook)

Ola Sabla (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
252 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-9274-8 (ISBN)

Infos

'Patterns of Pain' is a poignant tale of love, loss, and the weight of choices that shape our lives. Tommy, a father burdened by the patterns of his past, struggles to find a way forward after heartbreak. His daughter, Sophia, brings light and hope to his world. When a mysterious woman enters their lives, she brings secrets that challenge Tommy to confront his pain. Will he find the courage to break free from the cycles that bind him, or will his past continue to control his future?

Ola Sabla is a passionate author, software programmer, and creative spirit who finds inspiration in nature, travel, drawing, and exploring new cuisines. She has published one book in Dubai with Austin Macauley Publishers and another in Palestine, captivating readers with her heartfelt and introspective storytelling. Fluent in both Arabic and English, Ola's stories bridge cultures and deeply connect with readers worldwide. When she's not writing, she enjoys sketching, discovering the beauty of the natural world, embarking on new adventures, and savoring unique culinary experiences. 'Patterns of Pain' is her latest work that covers a poignant journey of love, loss, and healing.

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"e;Patterns of Pain"e; is a deeply moving tale of love, loss, and the silent impact of choices that shape our lives. Tommy is a father haunted by the patterns of his past, struggling to navigate the pain of heartbreak while raising his vibrant and imaginative daughter, Sophia. Together, they find fleeting moments of joy, yet the weight of unspoken truths and unresolved struggles lingers over their lives. When a mysterious woman enters their world, her arrival stirs emotions and reveals secrets that force Tommy to confront the choices that have kept him trapped. As Sophia becomes a beacon of light and hope, Tommy is faced with a pivotal question: will he find the strength to break free from the cycles of his past, or will the familiar patterns continue to shape his future? This gripping story explores the complexity of human relationships, the courage it takes to embrace change, and the resilience needed to rebuild a life torn apart. "e;Patterns of Pain"e; will leave you reflecting on the power of connection, the courage to heal, and the enduring hope that even the darkest moments can hold a glimmer of light.

Textauszug

Chapter 2:
The Past’s Prisoner -Tommy

I’ve been stuck in this cycle for two long, aching years since Sophia’s mom and I divorced. The days blur together now, each one echoing the last in a monotonous loop that pulls me deeper into despair. It feels as if time itself has conspired against me, binding me to the past with invisible chains that tighten with each breath.

Our broken lives have left the house, once alive with laughter and warmth, a cold, silent witness. The walls seem to close in around me, their once-vibrant colors faded into dull shades of regret. The wooden floors creak beneath my footsteps, each sound a reminder of the life that once pulsed within these walls. Even the air feels heavier, as if it carries the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions lingering like ghosts.

I took custody of Sophia after her mother left the country, her dreams of becoming a top model taking precedence over the family we built together. I loved her—truly, deeply loved her. She was my first love, the one who taught me what it meant to feel alive, to have dreams, to believe in forever. But forever is fragile, so easily shattered by ambition and the lure of something more.

Everywhere I go, I see her—at work, in our bedroom, in the recesses of my broken heart, where I wait alone, hoping she’ll return. Her presence lingers like a shadow at the edge of my vision, always reminding me of what was and what will never be again. The bed we once shared is now an impersonal space; the sheets untouched, the pillows faintly holding her scent. That scent is a cruel comfort—a lingering ghost of the intimacy we once shared. The thought hangs heavy in my mind, like a stone sinking into the depths of a dark, still lake. I miss those long nights together, her breath warm against my chest as we whispered about our future, our dreams entwining like the roots of an ancient tree. But those roots have withered, and the tree of our love is now a hollow, brittle shell that cracks under the weight of reality.

Life feels empty now, stripped of the beauty I once saw through her touch. I can’t forget her—that vibrant, beautiful whirlwind who swept me off my feet and carried me into a world of light and love. But that light has dimmed, leaving me to wander lost and alone in the dark. Sophia is the image of her mother, a constant reminder of what I lost and still hold dear. Her smile, her laughter—they’re so painfully familiar, yet different in ways that tear at my heart. Escaping her memory seems impossible. Loving both mother and daughter leaves me torn, each day bringing the pain of knowing my love wasn’t enough. She believed I held her back, that being with me couldn’t satisfy the hunger she felt for something more. I couldn’t give her everything she wanted, but I loved her fiercely, with a passion that burned like wildfire in my soul. Yet that fire has left me scorched, the ashes of our love scattered in the winds of time. Now she graces the covers of magazines, more stunning than ever, her smile as dazzling as the day we met. I still feel that same pull toward her, a gravitational force I can’t escape, no matter how hard I try. I wish I could sever the attraction, but it’s impossible—like trying to forget the sun after feeling its warmth on your skin.

I remember the first time I saw her—Anna. It was a late summer evening, and the golden glow of the setting sunbathed the small coffee shop in the warm light. She was sitting at a table by the window, a book in her hand and a soft smile playing on her lips. There was a quiet elegance about her, a kind of effortless beauty that wasn’t just skin-deep. She wore a simple, flowy dress, white with tiny blue flowers, and tucked behind her ear was a strand of hair that refused to stay put, as if it was as untamed as her spirit. I couldn’t help but stare, entranced by the way she seemed so at peace in that moment, so completely herself.

When I finally gathered the courage to introduce myself, she looked up, eyes as dark as the night sky, and laughed—a sound so light and musical it made my heart stutter. “I was wondering how long you’d stand there,” she teased, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness that would become so familiar over the years. That was Anna—humble and approachable, with a sharp wit that could disarm even the toughest moments.

It didn’t take long before I fell completely. She was sensitive, too, always listening with her whole heart, as if whatever I said mattered more than anything in the world. I can still hear her words, whispered in the quiet of our first night spent under the stars: “Tommy, no matter where life takes us, I’ll always be right here. I’ll stay forever.” That promise, simple yet powerful, echoed through the years, binding us together in a way that made me believe in something as intangible as fate.

She was the person who left love notes tucked into coat pockets and traced my name in the steam of the bathroom mirror after a hot shower. She’d press her head to my chest, listening to the steady beat of my heart, and say it was her favorite song. I believed her then, just as I believed we were unbreakable. But forever is a fragile thing, vulnerable to the currents of ambition and the silent drift of dreams that pull people apart.

Now, even as I sit here in the hushed quiet of our house, the memory of her feels close enough to touch. The surrounding air thickens with the ghost of her presence. I can almost feel her fingers graze my arm as she used to when she’d pass by, a gesture so simple yet brimming with unspoken love. And it’s that love of those stays that lingers, refusing to be extinguished no matter how many days or miles stretch between us.

These memories are both a comfort and a torment, each one a reminder of the life we built and the life that unraveled. I still love her, deeply, achingly, even knowing she’s moved on to a world far removed from ours. She was my first love, the one who made me believe that happiness could be as simple as a shared glance or the warmth of a shared bed. And sometimes, late at night when the house is dark and Sophia’s soft breathing is the only sound, I wonder if Anna ever thinks of that promise, of the love she left behind.

I often ask the same unanswerable questions, over and over, each one digging a deeper hole in my chest. Why did she change? Was it the allure of money, the glimmer of fame that outshone the simpler life we had? Or had she been hiding her true colors all along, fooling me with her soft laughter and whispered promises? It’s a thought that shakes me to my core, leaving me hollow with the realization that I might never truly know the woman I loved so fiercely.

But how? How could a mother, with a heart that once swelled at the mere sight of her child, prefer her legacy over her daughter? I think back to those nights when she’d cradle Sophia, singing lullabies in a voice that could soothe any storm. How could that same woman choose the flashing lights and applause over the small, beautiful moments that once defined us? It’s a contradiction that twists my understanding of her, splitting it between the woman I thought I knew and the one who left.

Was it ambition that became an unstoppable force, or was there something deeper, some hidden yearning that I never saw? Each question chips away at the memories, leaving me suspended between love and betrayal, between the past I cherished and the present I struggle to accept. And in those moments of doubt, I wonder if I ever truly knew her at all.

Is ambition stronger than a mother’s instinct? As humans, we’re driven by complex, often conflicting desires, but can anything truly outweigh the bond between a mother and her child? The question haunts me, gnawing at the edges of my understanding. I think of those early days, when Sophia was just a baby, cradled in her arms, both wrapped in a blanket of warmth and contentment. I remember how she’d look at our daughter with eyes full of wonder and an unwavering, primal protectiveness. That bond seemed unbreakable, unyielding—something pure and untouchable.

So how could that change? How could the call of the spotlight, the promise of fame and fortune, drown out that instinct? Is there a part of being human, some flaw in the fabric of who we are, that makes us capable of such a choice? It’s almost impossible to reconcile the memory of the woman who once stayed up all night to soothe Sophia’s cries with the reality of the one who chose the glow of flashing cameras over her own daughter’s laughter.

If ambition, with its powerful pull, can weaken even the strongest bonds, what does that tell us about the limits of human nature? This idea chills me to the bone, making me doubt everything I thought I knew about love, loyalty, and our motivations.

What about the hundreds of moms I see at Sophia’s school every day? They carry the weight of dreams, too, but they choose to let those dreams simmer quietly on the back burner while they nurture their children, sacrificing ambitions for the giggles and scraped knees, for the bedtime stories and school recitals. I see them, their tired eyes brightening at the sight of their kids running into their arms, the insignificant victories of motherhood cherished over personal accolades. They are full of unfulfilled ambitions and silent compromises, but they are there—steady, present, choosing their children above all else.

So, answer me, Anne—what kind of...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.2.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-9274-8 / 9798350992748