Novel A Novels & Stories

Third Person's POV Another six months passed, with Lorenzo's life gradually settling into a monotonous calm. He went to work, came home, ate, and slept. Like a soulless machine, he mechanically repeated each day. He didn't socialize, didn't go out for entertainment, and didn't contact anyone from his past. His only friend was Antonio, the only person who had stayed by his side after he lost everything. One evening, when Antonio came to visit, he brought with him a bottle of whiskey. The moment Lorenzo saw the bottle, his expression changed.

But Lara did… and it hurt her more than what he did to her three years back. Since she was left alone by Christophe and Francine, she went off to explore after dinner, wandering through beautifully furnished and decorated reception rooms that were lifeless. Lara was delighted to come upon a library and, locating the English section, selected ‘Jane Eyre’, her favorite. She hadn’t read it for several years. But Charlotte Brontë failed her for the very first time. Lara found it impossible to concentrate. Standing up again, she cast the book aside and stepped through the curtains to open the French windows that featured in virtually every room. She walked along the terrace. As Lara passed by ope

“He has not; I forbade him. But I have had enough of it, and now I go to him, since he, being in service, cannot come to me. I intended to ask of you and my benefactress a refuge for this maiden while I went to Rashroff alone; but since you say that it is safe everywhere, I will take her. She is curious, the magpie, to see the world. Let her look at it.” “And let people look at her,” put in Zastar. “Ah, they would have nothing to see,” said the young lady, out of whose dark eyes and mouth, fixed as if for a kiss, something quite different was speaking. “An ordinary puss, nothing more than a puss!” said Sir Novoveski. “But if she sees a handsome officer, something may happen; therefore I chos

It's all a fantasy. Fable has been my escape. An unhealthy one. A safe pretend world where I could bury myself. Just like how Zee cried after she finished the final Harry Potter book, or how Jamie bases so much of her worth on the fictional version of herself that lives across a thousand Instagram pics, in the comments and likes of a thousand strangers. Just carefully constructed lies to comfort and lull. Dreams.

Leading the way into the living room, she added, "And there's a couple of new radio shows that debuted last month. Nothing that stands out though. I think you're right. I miss Alias Jimmy Valentine too." "Oh! Not there, please, Lily! Those have to go back to the library." With an annoyed flick of a brow, Lily lifted her coffee mug to give Evelyn time to move the books aside. "The Roman Revolution. Diplomacy," she commented drily, tilting her head to one side, reading the titles along the book spines. "The Empire of the Steppes. The Wimsey Papers. Why can't you just read Agatha Christie like everyone else?"

As expected typo grammatical, wrong spellings, grammatical errors, and whatsoever errors can be seen from this novel. I'll edit if I have some time, please respect. ➥ ceaeee_

My chest tightened. Where the hell had he gone? What kind of call kept him this long? Or… was he somewhere else, having fun while I was stuck in this nightmare? My chest tightened. We walked through a side door and entered another room. The dim light instantly unsettled me. A king-sized bed dominated the space, sheets rumpled like it had been used before. My gut twisted. This wasn’t a dressing room. It was a place for quick fucks and privacy away from prying eyes.

And in that quiet hospital room, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and the hum of machines, Amira finally believed in something she hadn’t dared to before. A future. THE END AUTHOR- 📚GENEVA .A. ZWICKER📚