Book Reading Photos Mga Nobela at Kwento

Maybe this is a good start, and with my mate here, we can go through this together. Grabbing the book on the front, it also had "Blackwood Family" printed in gold writing with our family crest engraved on the bottom. Yep, this was one of ours. "I found this," I mumble as I walk back into the room where she was still sits peacefully. "What is it?" she asks, curiosity drawn to the dark book in my hands. "An old family photo album, I think. Not sure this is the first time I have seen it," Ashleigh slides off the window seat, walking toward me, "Do you want to go through it together?"

I turned the picture to see the date and it was of the first year after we were separated. The second picture was of her in a library. She was looking at the camera with an open book in her hand. The book was upside down and I erupted in a fit of giggles. Bella was never the one to read books, she always preferred movies over books saying that ‘books are written first then the movie is made after so why not just save time and watch a movie?’. Austin looked at me with a faint smile on his lips and I showed him the picture explaining it to him.

But the part that stood out to me the most was the framed photos all along the walls. There were a few with Liam and me peacefully curled up together, but there were much more pictures consisting of Rafael and Liam. Their similar aura... identical smirks... matching smiles... No one would probably believe it if they were told that the two weren't actually biologically related... Then there were even more pictures of only me. Mostly candid pictures of me reading in what appeared to be an elegant private library. Or squatting in a bunch of shrubberies, pulling out weeds from a garden. Or running in an unfamiliar field with a bright smile on my face and my sundress flowing like a river around m

It meant I still had time to take control of the project. Crash. A book suddenly fell from the shelf. I frowned. “Strange.” I walked over and picked it up. Book of Finance. That was the title printed on the cover. Something slipped from between the pages. A photograph. I pulled it out slowly. But before I could look closely— A hand suddenly snatched it away. “What—” I looked up quickly. But I was sure of what I had seen. A baby picture. “What’s wrong with—” I began, reaching for it.

She reached for it and her elbow knocked against a thin volume wedged between the books. It fell to the floor and opened. Not a book. A photo album. She should have closed it. Should have shoved it back onto the shelf and returned to her silly romance but her eyes had already landed on a face. Isabella's face. --- The album was old-fashioned. It has thick pages, tissue paper between them. The kind of album someone kept in a drawer, not on display. The first few photos were harmless. Isabella at a café, laughing at something off-camera. Isabella in a park, autumn leaves in her hair. Isabella in a dress Elara had never seen, standing in front of a mirror, taking a selfie.

The spine was frayed, the leather soft from years of handling. She hadn’t opened it in months. Maybe years. The first photo in there made her smile, a real one she hadn’t felt in days. It was her, age nine, standing in front of her father at a bookstore. She wore a bright yellow raincoat, her hair in messy pigtails. In her hand was a stack of books taller than her arm could comfortably carry. Her father stood behind her, hand on her shoulder, laughing. She could almost hear him his warm, deep voice saying, “If you’re going to read that much, at least help in unpacking the boxes.”

My hands were steady, but my heart wasn’t. I untied the string gently. Pulled the brown paper open. Inside was a white envelope. Thick. Sealed. No name. No writing. Just plain and cold. I opened it slowly. And what I saw made my stomach drop. Photographs. Printed on cheap, glossy paper. Stacked together, no labels, no order. I pulled the first one out. It was me. With River. We were in a bookstore. One of the ones far from campus. Somewhere safe. Hidden. He was laughing, holding a book in his hand. I was standing beside him. My hand was on his back.

But guilt twisted inside me because I wasn't sure that was true. Bran remained silent for a while. Then suddenly he released me. "Wait here." He stood up from the bed and walked toward his bedside cabinet and pulled out a photo album and a sealed letter. Then returned to the bed and placed both items in front of me. "What is this?" I asked, turning the album back and forth. "Take a peak." Bran said, smiling from ear to ear. I picked up the photo album first. The first photograph showed a smiling baby in a cot. The second showed a smilinb little girl about the age of three sitting beside a beautiful woman. The woman was laughing while the little girl was trying to put flowers into her hair.

I found it on a Wednesday afternoon. I had been working my way along the lower shelves of the library, the ones I hadn't reached yet, pulling books out and reading the inscriptions and putting them back. It had become a habit without my meaning it to, learning the woman who had lived in this room through the things she had left behind. The photograph was tucked inside a book of Italian poetry, slipped between the pages like a bookmark someone had forgotten to retrieve. Small and slightly faded at the edges the way photographs got when they had been handled many times over many years.

She let them be. As she went to the deeper into the library room, the more students she noticed hanging around the corner. ‘Maybe those spots are the best for reading quietly.’ She thought and continued finding that one shelf. Finding the bookshelf and pulling one of the books to read, she noticed someone— or something. To be precise, it was a picture of someone, stuck between two books and it slightly revealed itself when Hestia pulled a book. “A picture?” Hestia whispered to herself and pulled the picture. It was a picture of Freya, but much younger if compared to the pictures she received a while ago.