Novels by Miss Robb

The day the news breaks, it doesn’t come with thunder.It comes with a quiet notification.I’m in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, kneading dough because my hands need something to do. Alex is on the phone in the living room, pacing slowly, barefoot, voice low. I can tell by the way he’s moving,careful, controlled,that it’s about his father.When he ends the call, he doesn’t speak right away.He leans against the doorway and watches me for a long second, like he’s memorizing the moment before it changes.“It’s over,” he says finally.I still my hands. “Over… how?”“The appeal failed.” His voice is steady, but his eyes aren’t. “Unanimous denial. No retrial. No reduced sentence.”The room feels suddenly too small.I wipe my hands on a towel, heart pounding. “And the others?”“One of the last men involved flipped this morning. Full confession. Documents. Flight manipulation. Bribes. Orders.” He swallows. “Everything.”I sink into a chair.For years, justice felt like a myth. A word peop

The weeks after graduation didn’t slow down the world the way I thought they would. If anything, they peeled it open. Healing, I learned, isn’t a quiet exhale after the storm. It’s work. It’s choosing, every single day, not to run from the scars that still ache when the weather changes. ********** Eleanor started calling more. Not the stiff, hesitant calls from before, but small ones. Ordinary ones. Did you eat today? I found Dad’s old watch—do you want it? There’s a farmers market near my place. You used to love the honey bread. At first, every call tightened something in my chest. Years of abandonment don’t dissolve just because someone says sorry. But she didn’t rush me. She didn’t push. She showed up, every given opportunity. She came to my therapy sessions once a month when I invited her. Sat quietly, hands folded, eyes damp, listening to me say things I’d buried for years. “You left,” I told her during one session, voice shaking. “Not physically. Emotionally. And I n

The morning of graduation dawned with a clarity that felt almost surreal, the sky a vast expanse of blue unbroken by clouds. I stood before the mirror in our small apartment, adjusting the black cap atop my head, the tassel swaying gently with each movement. The gown draped over me like a symbol of culmination, its weight both literal and metaphorical. Four years of relentless effort, nights blurred by textbooks and grief, had led to this moment. Top of the class. Valedictorian. The engineer Dad had always envisioned, ready to rebuild what had been lost. Alex entered the room, his presence is a steady anchor amid the whirlwind of emotions. He approached from behind, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders, his reflection joining mine in the glass. "You look remarkable," he said, his voice low and filled with pride. His eyes met mine, conveying a depth of support that words could scarcely capture. The scar on his shoulder, now a faint line, served as a reminder of the trials we ha

Alex stood in the doorway, the light from the hall casting long shadows across his face. His shirt was untucked, hair messy like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times, eyes red-rimmed and raw. My heart hammered so loud I could barely hear the rain pattering outside. This was it, the moment everything broke or mended.“We need to talk,” he said again, voice thick, closing the door behind him with a soft click that felt final.I stood from the couch, arms wrapped around myself like armor trying to brace myself for impact . The photo from Victoria’s account burned in my mind: her in that silk robe, him too close, the caption mocking me. “Did you sleep with her?” The words tumbled out, sharp and scared.He flinched like I’d slapped him. “No. God, Clara, no.” He crossed the room in two strides, reaching for me, but I stepped back. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but he stopped, hands dropping to his sides. “Let me explain. Please.”I nodded, throat tight. “Start with why you’re late. And

The days after that confrontation felt like walking on glass sharp, fragile, ready to shatter under one wrong step. I threw myself into finals like a lifeline. Graduation was four days away. Just Four. The ceremony I’d dreamed of since the crash, the one Dad would’ve beamed at from the front row, Liam waving a goofy sign. I couldn’t let Victoria,or doubt l⁷steal it. Langford name meant something once: innovation, integrity, and building things that lasted. Dad’s company was gone, scattered by Richard’s greed, but I could rebuild it in my way. Top of the class. Best thesis. Scholarships for grad school. Prove we weren’t broken. So I studied until my eyes were bloodshot . Labs at dawn, library until closing, caffeine my constant companion. Alex tried to help bring dinner, massaging my neck, quizzing me on control systems until his voice went hoarse. But the air between us was thick with unsaid things. He’d touch me tentative now, like I might pull away. And sometimes I did, the memor

********Graduation was three weeks away, and the apartment smelled like coffee, highlighters, and the faint vanilla candle I burned when stress got too loud. I was neck-deep in thesis revisions, circuits diagrams scattered across the table like puzzle pieces. Alex had been my rock ,bringing late-night snacks, rubbing my shoulders when my neck cramped, whispering “You’re almost there, baby” until I believed it.The night he proposed properly still glowed in my chest. He’d waited until rain drummed soft against the window, then dropped to one knee in our tiny living room, the diamond ring catching every lamp light like stars trapped in metal. “Marry me after graduation,” he said, voice thick. Let’s build that life—ours, not his.*********I jumped on him before he finished, kissing him so deeply the world blurred. Tears mixed with laughter as I said yes a hundred times, hands in his hair, bodies pressing close on the couch. We made love right there—slow,his mouth mapping every inch lik