Anya Forger Grown Up Novels & Stories

The headlights washed on the porch as it arrived, almost blinding me and my dad. But then, the car engine went off and a figure stepped out of the car. It was my mom. “Naomi. What did you do?” My father said, rushing off the porch to meet her. “I did the right thing!” She yelled out into the night. I was so furious that I became numb. I could only watch my parents as they argued. My mind was on the child in Anna. He was going to grow up without a father if I didn’t do something about it. But I couldn’t just stomp into the Crescent pack and demand her. Rohan wouldn’t let her go. He was as stubborn as I was.

I always liked having a clear sightline to the street. Old habit. Five years old, to be exact. * * * My name is Aria Grey, and I sell flowers for a living. Three years ago I walked past a wholesale market at five in the morning and saw a woman unloading garden roses in every shade of blush and peach and deep coral, and something in my chest did a thing it hadn't done in a long time. Something that felt almost like wanting. So I asked if she needed help. She said yes. I never left.

Just as Nana was about to suggest calling off the charade, a new face appeared at the edge of the dais. Ayra, a young woman from a minor pack with hair the color of burnished copper, stood there, her head bowed in demure respect. Unlike the other girls, her dress was simple yet elegant, devoid of ostentatious jewelry. Her emerald eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were downcast, a stark contrast to her usual fiery spirit. Nana recognized her instantly. Ayra was known for her gentle nature and unwavering loyalty – qualities that were sorely lacking in the other candidates.

My fingers tightened around the burger in my hands. Please buy it. Please. “Okay.” He finally said and continued eating. Why was I becoming more clumsy lately? It was almost as if I always lost myself whenever I saw anything connected to my old life. I really needed to do better. Imagine getting exposed because of a burger. That would be ridiculous. I swallowed hard and continued eating. Despite how delicious it was, I forced myself to keep a straight face. Dexter also ate quietly. I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.

she took her and went where are you cutie see every one is waiting for you @ARYAN POV@ iam too depressed for one year when I lost my little sis after meeting fuggie i changed a lot at first I hated her because I thought she is trying to take my sister's position so I used to behave coldly towards her but she never said anything she always accepts obediently I felt sad sometimes but I didn't express that night when I am roaming as usual I heard her crying so I went to her room I seen her crying I felt pain in my heart I thought her as anu and hugged her then I realized she is not anu but I tried to console I sat whole night seeing her she is looking so sad I promised myself that I will never

he said after a moment and then went back to playing with the laptop in front of him. “Afgan?” “Uh, I... I would of course like to have a daughter like Joanne,” Afgan said as he stood up in an awkward manner. “Since when... huft!” Aiyana exhaled heavily and felt very upset. Aiyana closed her eyes for a moment to adjust the tempo of her irregular heartbeat. “Afgan...” “Yes?” “I've recovered and can cook by myself. You have also recovered. Your leg doesn't have any problems.”

Not exactly care because they don’t care about anything else than the money they get from fostering us. My name is Ana Torres and I’m the first child the Brooks fostered, and even though I’m already 19, they refuse to let me go now. I was only 9 years old when my mom died in a car accident right in front of my eyes, and I’ve been living here ever since, which makes it 10 years already. 10 years of suffering. 10 years of abuse.

He couldn’t deny that her performance last night gave him great courage. “There’s something I should explain to you, or you might think I’m a jerk. Four years ago, abroad, I was negotiating business. Being young and impulsive, I got tricked… and, well… you know how it goes… Later, I came back home, took over the family business, and ten months later, a pair of kids was left at my doorstep. DNA testing confirmed they’re mine!” Esther: “…” This story was even more melodramatic than some typical domineering CEO romance!

"Real ones. Not the forged templates you bought from the transit hub. It contains a registered birth certificate under a new name, a clean social security file, and the title deed to the apartment building you're currently renting above this shop. I bought it from the landlord this morning through a human shell company." Evelyn stared at the envelope, her breath catching. "Why would you do this?" "Because you're carrying the future of our line, even if that future never sees the Silvercrest mountains," Thomas said, his voice dropping into a solemn, sacred tone that belonged to the old ways of the wolves. He stood up, fastening the buttons of his wet coat. "And because I owed you an apology f

she resumes quietly, “I watched the American kids get chosen. Watched them leave with their shiny-haired mothers and smiling fathers. Watched them wave from the back seats of cars while I stayed behind.” Her jaw trembles. She’s fighting to hold herself together, but the cracks are showing. “I grew up bitter. Can you blame me?” she breathes, her lips curling into a sad, twisted smirk. “I realized I was going to age out of the system. I was going to end up exactly like my parents, and it terrified me." A quiver runs through her breath, then her eyes meet mine—cold and filled with hate. "So when you showed up at the orphanage..." She points at me, “when I was twelve and you—this wealthy, privil