All Those Days Watching From The Windows Novels & Stories

"Ma'am, I am willing to forget I saw you this morning if you put a smile on that face of yours and cheer up. I am sure it's not as bad as you think. After all, you met me." "Actually, it's just another day in a sequence of bad days that I have been having. Seems my luck has been having a bit of a slump lately, but your kindness has shown me that not all men our complete assholes." She says while her lips hint at a smile. Glancing out the front window, she notices that it's about to rain. "Just my luck! It looks as if it is just about to downpour." She shuts her mouth before he decides to change his mind.

I place my hands flat on the bare wood. And I watch, through the window, the day fully rising, indifferent to cleanings, to dramas, and to missed breakfasts.

Chapter Nine Day Three Thursday. The next day, Bisola woke up reluctantly to the jingling of the alarm beside her. Bisola opened her eyes first, and then she rubbed her with her backhand, last night was too awesome for her, she and Tolani her friend scout every clothing store in the city, they are not necessarily buying everything, but they just wish to share more time together, both understand that, they might not have the time to share together like this in the future.

It was the best day ever. Or so I thought at the time. Just like our first date, George took me sailing. He had a picnic of delicacies set up for us. Wine and cheese with fresh fruit, oh, and those amazing crackers I could never get enough of. It was the perfect weather for it, just enough wind without overdoing it. The breeze kissed my skin, leaving goosebumps. I couldn't help but feel as though it were the best day ever. And he said all the right things, looked at me with those eyes, green my favorite color, that seemed to sparkle just so in the sunlight. I was a girl in romance heaven as he fed me grapes.

HANNAH’S POV: I smiled despite myself and hung up, glancing out the tinted window. The sun was bright, the sky painfully blue, the kind of day that dared you to be okay. For the first time in days, I didn't feel like the brightness mocked me. It felt... inviting. The city moved past my window in a blur of color and motion. People going about their lives, completely unaware that mine had recently burned to the ground. Literally. There was something oddly comforting about that. The world kept spinning whether you were ready or not.

XANDER I stood at the window, watching the sun dip lower on the horizon, casting an amber glow across the sky. The breeze was gentle, carrying the scent of fresh earth and the quiet promise of evening. I breathed in deeply, the cool air filling my lungs, and for a brief moment, I felt at peace. But that peace was fleeting. ‘Today might be the day I join my father in the afterlife,’ I thought, the weight of that realization pressing down on me. The sunset, beautiful as it was, couldn't mask the bitter truth gnawing at my insides.

(Thomas) The morning sun streamed through the large windows of the mansion, casting a warm glow across the spacious living room. I stood by the window, looking out at the well-manicured gardens, my mind buzzing with excitement. Lydia's movie had just broken records for the opening week, and I knew it was time to celebrate in a way that showed her just how proud I was of her.

Today is the day. I woke up in a good mood, and I was even happier when I opened the drapes and window and saw how gloomy the mood of the sky was. It was not a secret that I prefer this type of weather over anything else. I decided to enjoy the cool breeze and the view outside my window. My room’s window is facing the back part of our house where trees can be seen. All this made me feel so nostalgic. There was an ache in my chest that I couldn’t understand why I was feeling it. I was already so lost in thought that I almost forgot that I should go and get ready.

I went to take a shower after dinner. It was then that I suddenly saw a weird palm print on the glass window. Someone must have left that palm print behind with their soapy hand while taking a shower. The print was quite faint and white against the shiny glass on the window. It was obviously a woman's handprint, and it wasn't mine. My hand was a little bigger than this. So I couldn't have been the one who put it there. It couldn't have been my daughter, Bella Quinton, either. She had tiny hands and wasn't even tall enough to reach that spot yet. Also, it definitely did not belong to my husband, Rory Quinton.

I looked up at the stars, but all I could see was her face at the window, eyes wide with a fear she doesn't understand yet. Five hundred and seventy-three days of waiting are over. Tomorrow, I take what is mine.