100 Years Of Solitude Kindle Novels & Stories

“Alisa, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still free to be my mate. My partner. My wife one day. They can threaten every wolf in the city; I’ll still claim you the moment those papers are signed.” I stepped closer, letting my body brush his. The bond hummed, warm and insistent. “I know. But I don’t want you hurt because of me.” “You’re not the reason they’re coming.” His hand cupped my jaw, thumb stroking my lower lip. “You’re the reason I stopped running. The reason I built this firm to stand for justice instead of vengeance. They can come. I’ve waited thirty-four years for you. Nothing will take you from me.”

Until I couldn't anymore. That night, about a week or more after the dust settled, I sat in the library, turning page after page of a familiar book. Just as Lira had said, solitude had become my new best friend. And this library, still under construction, was the only place where I felt truly at peace. I spent most of my nights here, reading under dim lighting books I'd read before and those I hadn't. It was better than rotting in my bed and letting insomnia eat me up from inside out. I knew I wasn't okay.

Every 500 years, a new Rememberer is born with a gray moon. Wolves don’t fear it. They prepare for it. They clean the stones. They plant new Both Trees. They tell pups: “Soon the sky will remember again. Listen.” Sol was 100 when the second petal rain came. He stood on Luna’s hill. 200,000 wolves below. Luna’s Heart pulsed. Petals fell. Sol didn’t speak. He just held out his scarred hands. The moon touched him. And Sol remembered everything. All 1000 years. All at once.

At first, it refused to move. Then— It creaked open. A rush of stale air escaped from the room beyond. Emma lifted the flashlight. Shelves lined the walls. Old books. Wooden chests. Faded portraits. It looked like a forgotten underground library. "What is this place?" Emma whispered. Liam slowly walked inside. "I think..." "...this was my grandfather's secret archive." His eyes fell on an old portrait hanging above a stone fireplace. It showed a young couple standing beside two little boys. Liam frowned.

Kimberly smiled as she reminisced, speaking leisurely. "That boy started pursuing me when he was seven. It's been almost 20 years now. When he was around ten, he gave me his family's heirloom, something that's only supposed to go to the family's daughter-in-law. He said he'd only ever love me in this lifetime. "Every time he found out I was dating someone, he'd drink himself into a stupor for days on end. He even developed stomach problems from it. "Oh, and these past few years while I was studying abroad, he flew over every week to bring me my favorite pastries and snacks, keeping me company no matter the cost."

Auntie murmured, voice low. She nodded. “I know. But we’ll make it work. We always do.” But the truth was, Autumn had never felt more alone. Everything she had been reading for months in that book was coming to fruition. The silence in the house after dark was so complete, she sometimes pressed her palm to her chest just to feel her own heartbeat.

Even though the voice was faint, I heard it clearly. The call then abruptly ended. My fingers turned white as I gripped my phone tightly, but it couldn't stop the desolation I was feeling. Rudolf and that woman were in each other's arms right now! I didn't have to see it to picture it in my mind. I didn't even have the bravery to imagine it any further! Just then, the private investigator I hired sent me the photos. My hands trembled as I scrolled through them. There were countless shots of Rudolf with that woman and their child, as if they were a loving family.

I walked along the Seine with a coffee in hand, almost dizzy with possibility. Over the next few months, everything became a blur of revisions, phone calls, and contracts. There were moments when I wanted to pull back, to slam my laptop shut and pretend I hadn’t opened myself up like this. But every time I wavered, I thought of the story, of him, and I kept going. The day I held the first printed copy of The One I Let Go in my hands, I cried. Not quiet, graceful tears, but messy, uncontrollable sobs. The cover was soft under my fingertips, the title gleaming in bold letters.

He gave my arm a brief, squeeze before turning back towards the mansion. I just continued my solitary stroll, aimless at first, then drawn by the quiet promise of solitude. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the Sokolov library, a vast, echoing space filled with ancient tomes and the comforting scent of old paper and leather. I pulled out volume after volume, losing myself in stories, in histories, in anything that wasn’t my own horrifying reality.

she answers then drinks her juice. I feel the hint of pain in the story but I didn't dare to ask that part yet. "Why did you draw me?" She raises her eyebrows and looks at her notebook. "This is my first time to be in the city alone. The farthest place I've ever been was the shopping mall near our apartment, and that's it. Everything is just so colorful here, and later when I get home, It's hard to decide what to draw first. The dancing umbrellas, your lovely aquarium and..." she said dreamily.