Romans & histoires After The War I Went Back To New York

After a long debate, I decided to return to New York. Not because I was moving back—I'm still keeping my house in Monterey, and I still had my loft in the city—but because I wanted to visit for a few months. Besides, I did miss Tanya and Eric. Zeus shipped my Rolls Royce to my loft as we took first-class flights back to The Big Apple.

The return to New York wasn’t a triumphant parade; it was a ghost's crawl. We entered the city through the Lincoln Tunnel in a bread truck, the smell of sourdough masking the metallic scent of the shortwave equipment hidden in the floorboards. ​Manhattan had changed in the weeks we were gone. The "Information Scarcity" had moved from a crisis to a way of life. The glowing digital skin of Times Square was dark, replaced by massive, hand-painted banners and wheat-pasted broadsides. The city looked like a 19th-century fever dream, a place where the physical word was the only currency that didn't glitch.

They had made up their mind and it was evident that they weren’t going to give up on this no matter what and now that the war was over, I was now on top of their list. But for me, going back wasn’t an option. As long as I had my freedom and a place to call home, they could kiss their chances of getting me back goodbye. We all fell silent for the next couple of minutes, neither of us were sure of what to say next and I didn’t want to be the first to say anything so I was waiting for them to talk. There was every chance that they were sure to come up with more excuses and I was waiting and ready for whatever they could possibly come up with.

Men like him always found a way to come back into the fold. By the end of the week, the war was officially “over.” The house, villa, and penthouse were completely quiet. All the blood had been washed away. The FBI had tied their case up with a neat little bow, and the city was pretending like everything was fine and back to normal. But I’d learned a long time ago that peace in this business was never permanent. It would only last until the next threat materialized. The only thing that felt real—the only thing that mattered—was Sofia.

I murmured, feeling a rush of warmth to my cheeks, though whether from shyness or stubbornness, I could not tell. Later, in the stillness of my study, I sat at the escritoire, pen poised over parchment. Words did not come easily. What did one write to a man who had gone to war out of duty, not affection? After several attempts, blotted sheets piling at my elbow, I settled for honesty. I wished him good health. Assured him the household was well. And hoped he didn't worry about matters back at home since all was well back here. I sanded the ink, folded the page, and sealed it with wax before summoning the butler.

I was already good at what I did. But as life would have it, one can only run away for so long. Eventually, I had to come back to New York. But I never thought I would come back to see my father marrying his third wife. But I did. The day after I landed in New York, my father visited me in my new apartment. I thought he was there to remind me that it was about time I gave my life to the all great La Bandoni Famiglia, but he was there to invite me to his wedding.

Jacob I hadn’t planned on laying eyes on the bastard… ever again. I thought our paths would never cross again in this lifetime, but who was I kidding? I’d agreed to move back to New York with Nathan. To prove to him that my past had no power over me anymore. I just wanted him to trust that I was strong enough to come back to the one place I’d dreaded for years. And somehow I believed in that too. That I’d grown past my trauma. But how wrong I was.

923 word(s) Published 01 I walked out of the arrivals and stared behind me at Anya and Jaimie, as they followed. I beamed at them, waiting for them to catch up. We unit rolled our luggages as we mentally prepared ourselves for the new life, the new journey and all the adventures ahead. We embraced the convition that things will be better and hopefully and finally we'll be far from trouble. Soaking in all the nostalgic feels as the sweet familiar New York air touched my skin; feels so good to be back! Finally in new york.

He smiled and headed out of the office whistling. Carl FLEW BACK TO NEW York a week after his father’s funeral. He looked exhausted and it didn’t seem to take much to tick him off, but he also seemed lighter now, as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He asked Mandy to schedule plans to see Mark for dinner in New York in about a month, and to book a few days off over the fourth of July weekend to head back home. He told her nothing else, kept it professional, and Mandy decided she needed to do the same. Her heart disagreed but she tried her best to ignore it.

I went back to New York City. This trip was not about being in a new place. It was about finding myself. As I flew over the Atlantic I saw the city lights. The city looked like a new world of possibilities. I felt alive. I did not feel like a ghost anymore. I felt like I was a part of New York City.