Novel-novel oleh Albetros

petal's POV Today, I decided to paint.It wasn’t something I had planned the night before, nor something I had written into a schedule. It just… came to me. One of those quiet decisions that rise from within, like a whisper your heart insists you listen to.I woke up to the sound of rain.Not loud, not violent—just steady, rhythmic droplets tapping against the window, the roof, the leaves outside. The kind of rain that doesn’t disturb, but soothes. The air felt cooler, softer. A gentle breeze slipped through the slightly open window, brushing against my face, making me pull the blanket closer around myself.For a moment, I didn’t want to wake up.I lay there, eyes half-closed, listening.The rain had its own music. A melody without instruments, yet fuller than any song. It wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into comfort, making my body heavy and unwilling to move.“Just five more minutes…” I murmured to myself.But minutes passed, and reality slowly crept in.With a small sigh, I f

author's POV The cool water curled around Petal’s feet, retreating and returning with each gentle wave. The rhythmic sound of the sea filled her ears, slowly washing away the noise in her mind. For the first time that day—perhaps for the first time in a long time—she felt… light.A small smile touched her lips.She closed her eyes, letting the breeze brush against her skin, lifting strands of her hair and carrying away fragments of her tension. The world behind her faded—the expectations, the pressure, the confusion.Here, at the edge of the ocean, it was just her.Just the waves.Just the moment.A faint sigh escaped her lips.“I wish I knew how to swim…” she murmured softly to herself, glancing at the endless stretch of water before her.There was something almost magical about it—the freedom, the depth, the unknown. She imagined what it would feel like to step deeper, to let the water carry her, to trust it.But she couldn’t.She didn’t know how.Still, that didn’t stop her from e

author's point of view CELEBRATION PARTY Petal reluctantly placed her hand in Sebastian’s after her parents’ questioning gaze left her no room to refuse. The moment their fingers touched, his hold shifted—not rough, not painful—but unmistakably possessive. It was as if his grip itself spoke, silent yet commanding.Mine.Petal felt it in the way his fingers curved around hers, in the steady pressure that refused to loosen. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but it was firm enough to make a statement—to anyone watching, and to her most of all.She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.“Okay, Max, Pen, we’ll leave now. I’ll drop Petal home later,” Sebastian said smoothly, as if everything between them was normal.Max and Penelope exchanged a glance, their expressions softening with relief and happiness. To them, this was a dream unfolding—Sebastian and their daughter together, looking every bit the perfect couple. Their nods held approval, trust, and quiet joy.Petal forced a small smile in t

Author’s POVThe house still carried the warmth of lunch.Sunlight streamed generously through the tall dining room windows, turning the polished wooden floors honey-gold. The faint aroma of garlic bread, spices, and melted cheese lingered in the air, blending with the sweetness of strawberry cheesecake that still sat half-finished on the table. Plates had been cleared, but glasses of juice and water remained, catching light like fragments of glass.It was early afternoon in Brooklyn — the kind of hour when the world felt open and unhurried. Outside, children’s laughter drifted faintly from the street. A dog barked somewhere down the block. The sky was bright and unapologetically blue.Inside, however, the air had shifted.Sebastian D’Angelo sat composed in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed but never careless. The sunlight hit the sharp lines of his face, highlighting the control in his expression. He had barely touched his phone during lunch. Barely. But

The golden afternoon light of New York City stretched across the streets like a soft veil as Sebastian D’Angelo’s black Aston Martin rolled out of Manhattan and toward Brooklyn. The city was alive, as it always was—horns blaring in distant impatience, subway grates breathing out warm air, skyscrapers glittering like polished mirrors under the sun. Yet inside the car, there was a stillness that felt heavier than the traffic outside. Petal noticed it first. The engine wasn’t humming. The car wasn’t moving. She had been staring absentmindedly at the skyline—the Empire State Building standing proud in the distance, glass towers reflecting the Hudson River—when realization dawned on her. Her brows furrowed slightly. She turned her head toward Sebastian. He wasn’t looking at the road. He was looking at her. And in his extended hand was a rectangular navy blue velvet box. The contrast between his strong fingers and the delicate velvet caught her attention immediately. The fabric look

author's POVPetal stood near the steps of the stage, her fingers lightly clutching the edge of her gown as she waited for Sammy’s name to be called. The auditorium buzzed with excitement—camera flashes, murmured conversations, proud parents whispering blessings under their breath. The scent of fresh flowers and polished wood lingered in the air. Everything felt unreal, like a dream she was walking through slowly.Her own medal rested against her chest, cool and solid, reminding her that this moment was real.When the announcer finally called, “Samaira Smith,” Petal’s heart leapt.Sammy walked up confidently, though Petal could see the slight tremble in her steps. The principal smiled warmly as he handed Sammy her degree and placed the medal around her neck. Applause filled the hall again, loud and proud.Petal clapped with all her strength, tears gathering in her eyes. They had studied together. Stressed together. Cried before exams together. And now—They had made it.When Sammy cam