3rd Point Of View Novels & Stories

THIRD PERSON’S POV Leon and Rina sat in the lavish living room, glasses of champagne in hand, their laughter echoing off the walls of the grand house. The celebration felt as if it could go on forever, as though every single obstacle they had faced had been swept away by their latest move. The feeling of victory was intoxicating. It tasted sweeter than any drink could, especially now that the battle was over and they were standing at the top, looking down on everything they had fought for.

Just one thing today. Plzz be patient. Plzz dont derive conclusion before the story is completed. Nothing more. Next Poin of view (POV) will of Neev. I Will update soon. Till then, Stay safe and be happy 🤎P.

Dan’s hotel room had a living room with an extension setup as well as a kitchen with three doors, of which one or two may most likely be a room or a bathroom. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with what I said. Besides, I said it was a proposal; I never said it was a romantic one.” Dan corrected. He felt a little cringe on his stomach and uncomfortable with what he had proposed, but this was something that he needed to do.

“Thirty Five!” The cheers among the people become louder. “Thirty Eight!!!” “Forty!” “She’s A Thief!” “Forty One!” “Forty Two!” “Forty Three!” “Forty Four!” “Forty Five!” “Forty Six!” “Forty Seven!” Everything in my eyes starts becoming blurry, hazy and distant. I focus my gaze on Queen Aurora. She has a triumphant smile on her face. I should have know she was such a person, that’s the only way she would have been able to survive with Alpha Kelvin after all.

"You animal! Just how much did Jovana pay you to keep this act up? Spit it out now! Where is she?" As he spoke, he picked up a long stick from the ground and used it to whack the homeless man. Blood instantly streamed down the man's face. But still looking indignant, he dragged himself toward the pear tree. Andrew's gaze followed his movement. For some reason, the pear tree felt familiar. He trudged toward the tree, reaching out to touch it. Just then, a voice rang out from the entrance. "I know where Jovana is."

The Silent Third Floor Ten minutes later, I found myself standing in front of a room on the third floor. This floor was rarely used and far quieter than the lively party downstairs. My breathing was uneven. Logic told me to leave—to run as far away from this house as possible. But curiosity and Davian’s threat pulled me like a tightening noose. I turned the key. The room was dark, lit only by moonlight streaming through a large window. Davian stood there, staring outside. “You came,” he said without turning.

I was relieved—I didn't want to have anything to do with them anymore. Gary picked up my urn and took it to my resting spot. I looked around, feeling satisfied. It was a place with a nice view. He stroked my photo, his lips moving slightly. I had to get closer to him to hear him mumbling an apology. What was the point, though? I no longer harbored any hope for these people. Anyway, I was already dead. If they really wanted to apologize to me, they could do it once they were dead, too.

When I completed Quinn’s discharge procedures, Ronnie helped us book flights to the south. The day before leaving the city, at the far end of a hospital corridor, I saw Dorian one last time. He knelt beside his paralyzed mother’s bed, gaunt and hollow-eyed, like a walking corpse. We met each other’s gaze across the crowd. His lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something. Nevertheless, I didn’t stop. Holding Quinn, I turned and walked into the sunlight without looking back. All the love and hatred, the blood and betrayal were left behind with that flight. My life didn’t belong in the ruins of resentment.

"Y-Yeah... why?" "Maybe there are clues in the notes. Is it still with you?" "I threw it away," she said, then switched the T.V. channel. She doesn't like late night shows anymore. More dramas and nonsense shows. "Oh," her friend said regretfully. "Keep the notes next time. You know... maybe one of these days he might introduce himself in a note." "His name is Third. That's always on the note, eh." "So, do you know anyone who has the same name?"

He used examples that were hard to decode, but in the end, his point was laid bare. “So, let’s say this is a Third-Person Point of View. Can you tell me the reason why you’re doing this?” I replied, hoping he would fall for the same trick he did using his flowery speech. He lowered his eyes for a moment, and when he diverted it back to me, he spoke. “Lawrence took a deep breath,” he said, breathing just like what he narrated. “He looked into his fiancée’s eyes and wondered: How can I stop this woman from choosing the wrong path?”