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What is Romance?


Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, there’s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. It’s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.It’s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in “fairytale love story.”




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Read books online » Romance » Damaged Beyond Repair by Kashmira Kamat (KittyKash) (ebook reader below 3000 .txt) 📖

Book online «Damaged Beyond Repair by Kashmira Kamat (KittyKash) (ebook reader below 3000 .txt) 📖». Author Kashmira Kamat (KittyKash)



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I woke up early the next morning and poured the hot coffee into a thermos that I had prepared for Rowan. I had planned on taking a packed lunch but hadn't found the time to go shop for groceries. Rowan was being discharged from the hospital at 8'o clock. I still had thirty minutes to kill. My classes didn't start until ten-thirty but I had already planned on blowing if off, had Rowan known I was up to cutting class he would have been the first to tie me up and kick my butt into university grounds. My finals were a month away but my books were catching every dust particle on the study table. Rowan being pissed off about me not studying was apparent, what with all the drama in the past month; I barely made a passing mark in the mid-terms.

Twenty minutes later I was walking down the street towards Rowan's hospital. The blue sky merged with a shade of gray, the wind blew in my direction. There were signs of a storm or maybe a heavy rain. Either way, I didn't find the weather very appealing. I was more of a sunshine person and gray clouds did everything but depress me. People ran around finding cover under shops while I continued to walk. Little wet droplets of rain grazed my skin; the redolence of soil entered my nostrils. I was headed straight towards Rowan's ward. On reaching upon my destination; I'd usually see Dwight lingering in the corridors or Mr Masters swapping places with Dwight. It seemed quite strange that none of them were present. I knocked once and pushed the door to Rowan's ward room open, "Hey! Sorry I'm late."

A middle aged man stared at me in confusion. His wife had a similar expression on her face, and then she shot daggers at her husband.

"What?" the man asked his wife, "I don't know her."

Oops! Did I barge into a wrong room? I apologized to the couple, backing out of the door. This was Rowan's idea of acting mature. Forcing me to bore myself over a lecture. What the hell? I was his girlfriend, he always treated me like a damn kid. He told me the day before that he'd be discharged at eight sharp after his routine checkups and I was right on time. I inquired to the nurse about the time Rowan was discharged and she told me he had left at six in the morning.

That man is so fucking dead.

Next stop was Rowan's apartment. It was drizzling by the time I had stepped out of the hospital; I hugged myself as I briskly walked down the almost emptying road. I greeted the nice watchman as I made my way towards the elevator. Once on the ninth floor, I made a beeline towards his apartment door and rang the bell. I kept jabbing it numerous times and got nil response. Rowan should be in his bed, enjoying the comfort of his soft comforter and cushions after a month long of being hospitalized. I retrieved the apartment keys out of my pocket, turned the key and opened the door.

"Rowan." I called out from the foyer.

I hung my messenger bag on the hooks as I removed the coffee thermos out of it. I sauntered into the dinning. The house looked clean and fresh; as if the stuff occurred a month ago never even happened. I resumed to searching his bedroom. Knocked once and when I received no answer I opened it.

Empty.

"Rowan, is this some kind of a joke?"

What are the odds that maybe Dwight drove him to the main house? Well, if he did, why didn't Rowan think it was important to let me know? I could have tagged along. I removed my cellphone and speed dialled his number.

This number is not reachable. Please try again later.

Next, I dialled Dwight's. He answered on the second ring, "Alana."

"If you had already planned on taking Rowan with you, why didn't you think it was important to inform me first?" My anger was blowing up the roof; I'd burned my calories with all the unnecessary walking.

"What are you talking about?" Dwight asked.

"Put Rowan on the phone. I need to talk to him." I said with urgency.

"Rowan is not with me, Alana." Dwight informed me, a pause later he continued, "Wait a second, he didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Dwight threw a string of curses on the other end of the line, "Sit down first."

"TELL ME, DWIGHT! WHERE IS ROWAN?"

"Okay, I'll cut to the chase. Rowan left for Denmark in the morning. His flight was scheduled at eight."

Before I knew it, the tears began forming in the corner of my eyes, "I'm calling your bluff."

"I'm sorry Alana, but I'm not lying. Rowan needed to do this."

The coffee thermos slipped out of my grasp as it landed on the hard ground with a thud, spilling the coffee on the floor, "Why?"

"He hasn't left the country for vacation in Hawaii, Alana; Rowan will be institutionalized in a private psychiatric asylum in Copenhagen. He will be living there until further notice but I thought you guys had discussed everything. This was planned since the day he woke up from the accident."

"He didn't tell me shit." A void began to spread deep inside me; breathing was suddenly becoming a task. The phone slipped out of my grasp when my eyes traveled to the sealed envelope left on the dresser. Dwight probably hadn't hung up because I heard a soft voice drift from the phone that had landed on the plush carpet. I reached for the envelope; it was a beautiful vintage floral one with a ribbon that held a letter inside.

My Dear Alana

I pulled the pink ribbon with delicate deft hands and removed an equally expensive looking paper out. It was written in Rowan's hand, in his beautiful cursive loops.

Loving you my dear was never a regret..

Though I wonder if there will be a day when you'll forget.

What we shared.

How you cared.

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