Another Country Novel Novels & Stories

"Book me the fastest and earliest flight to Country M!" ...... At Country M... "Who ordered you to come? I want to discuss with you, I know you can come in, please don’t hurt the child in my stomach, if you promise me, I will come out by myself." Summer took a deep breath and choked back her tears as she communicated with them in Country M’s ​​national language. "Follow us obediently, we won't hurt you and your children." The other party was obviously careless, after all, the door lock had been kicked open, so he just had to kick away the bookcase.

Yaya asked curiously, "Do something for the person you like? Is he also from Long Cove?" "Well, technically he is..." Her Brother Lionel was the President of Country A. The people of Country A were just like his children, so Country A was his home. Yaya asked, "So is he or is he not? Why am I more confused." "Yes." Karen Joy smiled and explained, "He is a good person. He has always been very kind to me. In order to save me, he almost lost his life. I have been separated from him for more than ten years now. It's hard for me to find him. I want to try my best to do something for him."

Lilah’s POV : The village was small, nestled in the lush countryside of southern France. Rolling hills stretched out as far as the eye could see, dotted with vineyards, olive trees, and cottages that seemed untouched by time. It was picturesque, serene—everything we needed after the chaos we’d escaped. But no matter how beautiful it was, I couldn’t shake the heaviness that lingered in my chest.

Even the smallest piece of fabric seemed to cling uncomfortably to my skin. Unable to resist the pull of what I was witnessing, I continued watching for a long time, my strength gradually draining away until I could no longer support myself. I slid to the floor, overcome. The heat of my breath filled the room, thickening the air with a charged energy I couldn't ignore. To be honest, I never expected my new tenant, Antonio Gomez, to be this captivating. The young woman he was with couldn't seem to keep up with him, but for someone like me—more experienced and mature—it only made me wish I could be in her place.

He understands profession better and is there to listen everything. He hears me out when I am drunk,but I barely remember him saying his tale. Although, I pretend like I don't give a fuck about him, yet I still think about what he's going through. I hear my heartbeat speeding with each stride I take through the alley. There's many people engaged in their private business. That's what I love about America. People mind their own business. Unlike,my native country where all I find is some fucking bunch of older folks poking into each other's ass. Because they don't have a job except entertaining some ridiculous idol. I find this fact extremely funny that they actually spend money on non-living