Novel & Cerita Atraves De Mi Ventana

The window is open from the inside. After Geneva.

I pressed my fingers on the floor, supporting myself to get up. In seconds, I was up. I looked around, and there was only one way to leave here. The window. I chuckled. A sad sound. Because there was no way I would fit in through the window. Unless… My eyes looked around… The baseball bat. I rushed to it. Picking it up, the bat connected with the glass. Shattering it. Four more hits, and I was sure I could pass through. Instantly, My head popped out of the window. But not before—

I looked at my reflection in the car window. ---

My hand drags down my stomach, nails grazing skin, and the moment I let the lace slip lower, I swear I hear something outside my window. I glance toward it curtains drawn, but the streetlight spilling a faint glow through the gap. Another message. I’m closer than you think.

Veyra’s POV I stay by the window, unmoving for a long time. The cool glass is pressed against my forehead and is the only thing anchoring me right now. I use it as a distraction from the heat that is growing worse by the second. It's the only part of the world that feels still like it's not trying to create chaos around me. My own reflection stares back at me, she's tired, pale with eyes that are rummed with shadows that won't fade no matter how long I rest. Or maybe, it's the fact my body hasn't relaxed once since I was with the rogues?

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.

SKY POV I lay down in my bed, the window open, feeling the cool breeze on my olive skin. The scent of last night's rain that still clung to the wood wafted through the window, bringing back memories of him. I moved my legs over the soft blanket beneath me, letting my mind drift to the last time Z and I were alone together when he claimed to love me deeply. Our playlist played softly in the background, each song a reminder of our youthful growing love.

It’s in a million pieces and I avoid stepping on the shards. I make my way to my car and decide to do some window shopping at some stores in town. After several hours of browsing and walking around seeing what the town has to offer, I head back to the house. I park in my usual spot and head up the steps looking at the broken glass again as I walk inside. Luckily, no one is lingering around and I head to the elevator. I reach it and press the button arrow facing up. Out of nowhere, a nearby door opens and closes, and out comes Adria walking toward me.

Dax's words were like a sharp knife that stabbed my heart, reopening a healing wound. His words were like salt that rubbed an open injury. It stung me, filling me with searing pain as I remembered my past. Transferring all the aggression on the windows, I scrubbed them with all my might, crying profusely. By the time I got to the brothers' window, I wiped my tears and cleaned my face with the dew that dropped on my palm. Their window was tinted in such a way that it reflected the image of the things outside only. No one would be able to see them from the inside.