Books For Him Novels & Stories

"I think it’s time I had a word with my uncle." He began to move across the grass, a 6'4" shadow cutting through the sunlight. Noah didn't see him coming yet, but he would feel him soon enough.

I gushed, instantly assuming that he was an avid reader of books as I was. He scratched his brow awkwardly. “I'm not interested in books like that. I barely have time to read them. I'm buying these as a present for my cousin, Nevan,” “Oh,” my shoulders dropped in disappointment. I got too excited there. I bet he thinks I'm too eager.

Knowing about his books, I can know whether he is still the same as before. Because from the very beginning, he loves to read psychology, as well as architecture. He also loved to play, especially football. Although I have seen earlier also what kind of books Sanam reads but at that time I did not pay much attention. I went to study and started looking at his books. There is no doubt that he reads psychology books even as a businessman. It is useful for him to increase his business as well as leave a good and impressionable personality on the people. Along with this, I have seen many other types of books. Surprisingly, a practical minded person like him also reads fiction books.

She had to ask. “No. Only because it gets changed every month. I have my room stocked with books every month.” He winked at her, proud of himself. Gabriel always pride himself when it came to books, no one in the pack can match up to him when it came to intelligence as well. He read all types of books, novels, and educational writings. Fictions. Biography. Horror. Newspapers. Politics. He was the man. He was good.

Lazy smirk, perfectly messy hair, and a phone in his hand like it’s his lifeline. “Look who finally decided to show up,” he says, barely glancing up. “I was starting to think you’d joined some cult or something.” “I did,” I say, dropping my bag with a thud. “We worship books and drink iced coffee instead of Kool-Aid.” He raises an eyebrow. “I think I’ve read that book.” “Probably didn’t finish it.” “You wound me.” I sit down beside him, careful not to get too close, and hold up the book for him to see; A Court of Fang and Foolish Decisions. He tilts his head, looking unimpressed.

I heaved a breathless sigh and turned around, astounded by his behavior, I lacked the strength to debate with him when my stomach is on rampage. I toured around his house until I stumbled upon a library, my eyes broadened at the books, no, number of books lying casually, it was a fucking bookstore, except the store. It was clear that this was his personal sanctuary, a place for him to find solace and breathe freely. A man like him, is he interested in books? Excitement fueled my steps as I meticulously explored each section, discovering an abundance of science titles. He loves science? It felt like unravelling a captivating mystery to know what lies beneath this mafia Kai Eldorado’s stoned h

Then there were his psychology books and books on wilderness craft. His gaze fell on a small cluster of volumes of English literature, some that Faith had convinced him to try. While he couldn't bring himself to read them, he hadn't been able to part with them, either. The top shelf held an extensive collection of contemporary bestsellers, and it was one of those he chose, a mystery thriller, as he heard the first roll of thunder. "Yep, Bear, it seems like a 'dark and stormy night' kind of night." He gave the dog a pat as he settled down in his chair.

He moved differently this time, more certain, as though yesterday’s visit had already decided today’s. I watched from the counter as his fingers settled on a thick volume: Underground Wars. Interesting. First, unmasking. Then, walking through the dark. Now, the hidden battles beneath it all. His preferences were drawing a map. Not of fiction, not of leisure, but of intent. He carried the book to his usual corner, settled into the chair, and began reading like the rest of the world didn’t matter. Glasses slipping down his nose, posture harmless. Harmless was a costume. His books told me otherwise.

"I... I have to pick up my books." I can hardly tell him that I'm investigating his family's involvement with a sordid disappearance. He scrutinises me and stays quiet. He beckons me to sit in front of him. I slip into the seat keeping as much self-assurance as possible. "Do you come here often?" I asked him. "Yes" I lift the book up that he's holding in his hands. Curious to see the kind of works he borrows. "Poetry?" "The art of Gods." "If you say so. Personally, I prefer novels and my favourite genre is science fiction!"

No matter how much time I spent with him, I would never get used to that side of his world. Slowly, I moved through the room, taking in the details. My fingers lightly brushed over the books as I passed the shelf. Business strategies. War history. Stoicism. Dark psychology. Art. Exactly the kind of books a man like Zane would read. As I walked to his desk, my eyes caught a small picture frame resting near the edge. I picked it up, bringing it closer to get a better look. It was an old photograph —worn at the edges but carefully preserved. A little boy, no older than four, held a tiny baby in his arms, his smile wide and filled with pure joy.