Beginning Of A Novel Novels & Stories

--- --- And as they sat there— --- In the quiet of a moment that didn’t need to prove itself— --- Elena realized something. --- --- This wasn’t the middle of something uncertain. --- --- This wasn’t something fragile. --- --- This was the beginning. --- --- Not loud. --- --- Not dramatic. --- --- But intentional. --- --- And sometimes— --- That’s exactly how the best stories start. --- --- Not with chaos. --- --- Not with intensity. --- --- But with two people— --- --- Choosing each other. --- --- Gently. --- --- Consistently. --- --- And without rushing what was meant to last. --- ---

I said referring to the novel in his hand. "Yeah i'm almost done with it,it's also great" Mig said and continued reading. I don't want to rush this novel,i want to savor every bit of it. I'm a fast reader,i could finish reading a novel in an hour but not like this novel..It seems unique. Did i just say i'm a fast reader? How did i know that?...cause this novel seems my first..Or; Have i read any novel before this? Am i a lover of novels? I asked myself trying hard to remember but i felt a sharp pain tore through my head...I cried out.

This book is my debut novel [ shrieks in incredulity @_@ ]. I can’t even believe that I have finished it. I originally tended this book to be a stand-alone. But, I become indulged on the own world that I created that I decided to expand it >_< .

Anita would spend hours browsing the internet until finally, she clicked on a link that changed her life. "mmmm, what is this, on my feed?" Anita mused as she slowed her scrolling to a stop, on the top of her feed there was a novel that was recommended to her by one of her F******k friends. The cover displayed a man and woman that were intimately intertwined, and on the woman's wrist were chains, and in the man's hand, there was a red riding crop. The novel instantly caught Anita's interest, she was not a virgin but she was innocent still in many ways so seeing the cover of this book piqued her interest so she gave it a chance, and this one fateful moment in time ended up opening her eyes to

“Only if you read it out loud.” I raised a brow. “Really?” “Yeah,” he said, pulling me closer. “I like your voice. And I like the way your mouth moves when you’re focused.” I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks heated anyway. I reached over, grabbed the worn novel, and settled back on his chest. He rested one hand on my thigh and the other behind his head, looking completely at peace. I flipped to the first page and started reading. It was a story where a girl leaving a town that no longer felt like home, finding herself in unfamiliar places, learning how to build something new from all the pieces that used to hurt.

I heard a replied and looked up glaring at the students. “What?” I asked him. “Err... 7th chapter Madam.” A student in the front bench mumbled. “Right! Let’s start it.” I said and planned his murder in my mind. *Adithya Pov* “So in the 7th lane of that street…” Rajeev started saying and I stopped him showing my hand. “What lane?” I asked him. “7th lane.” He replied, frowning but I chuckled hearing it. “Continue.” I mumbled, and he did without me stopping him.

Maybe he had never been treated like that before, but slowly, the calls stopped. The messages also went silent. At last, I could start adjusting to a new life. At first, it felt strange being in an unfamiliar place and a brand-new job all by myself. However, little by little, I realized I could actually find joy in it. Life began to feel meaningful and purposeful again. The part of me that had been suppressed for years was finally breaking free. Sometimes, though, my thoughts would drift back to the past, to those unforgettable moments that had carved themselves into my heart.

She pats her abdomen for emphasis. Once she closes the door to her room behind her, she finds herself pacing back and forth, desperate for something to do. She can't seem to sit for too long. Her eye catches a book she's been wanting to read. Reading hasn't exactly fit her mood lately. In one swift motion, she grabs the novel off the shelf, jumps into bed, and opens to the first chapter.

Could unify. Beginning proved it. Beginning demonstrated it. Beginning was it. And that was enough. And that was everything. And that was exactly right. Beginning existed. Hope's legacy endured. The story continued. Forever. Always. Beautifully. Beginning was here. And beginning was beautiful. And beginning was exactly right. The story continued. Forever. Always. Eternally. Beginning was here. And that was perfect. END OF CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE And so the story continues, forever evolving, forever beginning anew...

I wrote the first chapter in November. Not the beginning of the story. That was where I had started with the speeches, the Vegas chapel, the blue dress. But for the book I started somewhere different. I started with the first morning in the hospital, the shaking in the car, the way the ceiling of our bedroom had been the wrong ceiling for four seconds that had been the worst seconds of my life. I started with after. It was harder than the speeches.