Ama I'm Novels & Stories

I smiled as I answered the call. "Hey, Ami," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "Hey, sweetie!" she replied, her voice bubbly and upbeat. "How's my favorite prince charming doing today?" "I'm doing great, baby," I replied. "And I can tell from your tone that you're in a better mood than you were last night when we spoke, " She had a knack for reading me like a book, and I couldn't help but laugh along with her. "I woke up extra early this morning for two reasons," Amihan said, her voice brimming with excitement. I leaned forward in my chair, curious to hear what she had to say.

In a cosy little apartment on the bustling streets of 28th Street, Amaya and her mischievous five-year-old son, Tommy, began their morning routine. Amaya was busy preparing lunch for Tommy when her old iPhone rang, and she hurriedly stepped away to take the call. "Hello, Mary?" She smiled and opened the fridge.

"Rori! I am talking to you. And you have to give me an answer before I start raining volcanoes on top of your head. Why did you visit yesterday?" "I was sick," she lied.

She has seen the pics of her mother. " mama ap mujhe kyun chor kar chali gayi . Dekho na akela mehsoos kar rhi hun main . Mujeh ap ki god main sar rakhna hai lekin ap to ho hi nhi na mere paas . Main akela mehsoos kar rhi hun . Aa jao na maa" Aima said while crying. She was feeling vulnerable at this moment. She want someone to console her . To hug her and take away all her misery. (Mom why you left me . See , your daughter is feeling alone . All alone . I want to put my head in your lap . Want to feel your love . I am feeling alone mom . Please mom come back na . Please)

Amaia grunted in annoyance as she can’t concentrate on doing monthly reports on her laptop. Rei looking at her with sad eyes, as she wanted to say something. She doesn’t want Amaia to berserk in anger. Amaia has anger issues and it might be difficult to step on her lines. She will do something terrible making the mansion guards and maids result in begging to go home. Rei let a low sad growl and lean his white furry head on the black carpeted floor.

The gag reflex that came after that looked too real to be fake. "I'm so sorry! I don't know how...! I must have mixed up the condiments!" She waved her arms around like a flustered little girl. Suddenly, her figure slumped down just as dramatically. "I must have been too tired... You were right, Tadashi-kun. I should have gotten enough rest. I'm so sorry..." "Yo, what's happening so early in the morning?" Isamu asked with a deep frown. Aimi's little show successfully earned all the newcomers' pity.

All I knew was her name, and it was Amia. Amia is a good person; I can sense that. She's really a pro in terms of cleaning and giving services to me. It just saddened me that she's not allowed to talk to me. I grabbed the pillow and covered it on my face, and then I shouted at the top of my lungs, releasing the feeling of devastation that this fucking marriage gave to me. “Happy fucking life of a married woman to the fucking infinity! Oh, fucking shit, son of a holy crap, why were you born as the man I am married with?! You're such a fucking jerk!”

Then tenta‌tively approaches‌ Kiy⁠a. “Hi,” she says s‌hyly. “I’‍m Amara. I’m‍ going to teach yo‍u lo‍t​s o‍f stuff.​ Like how to rea​d and​ how to do cartwhe‍els and how t⁠o remember Ayana.” My heart swe⁠ll⁠s. This is my family. T⁠hes⁠e beautiful, broken, heali‌ng peo‌ple.

Mas Suma, a new nickname for Mr. Kusuma from me. Changed relationship status from best friend into a close mate. That's the term we use. We want to base this relationship with love, not with sheer desire. Our days went by as usual, the difference is that we have a bond with each other. The most enthusiastic was Amelia, she was very happy. She often teased me by calling my future mommy. Even so, Wisnu often even contacted by Mr. Kusuma just to chat.

And now each time I feel the urge to kill I fight myself. I don’t want to give the member around Novak forest more reasons to panicked and get the old man in danger. I rolled up the sleeve shirt I wore and stare at my name drawn on my hands. Amaia R. I keep telling myself that’s my name. Maybe it was. I wasn’t so sure. But that’s what the old man calls me. Amaia but I had no idea what the R. Stands for. What does it means. I’ve no idea. And he won’t say a word about it, if he knew who I was or who I was gonna be, he didn’t say anything. Nothing at all.