Novel & Cerita Booktok He Leaned Against The Doorframe

And it wasn't just because he was sleeping at that moment. The sound of the grass being crushed by heavy footsteps outside made me uneasy, but I remained seated on the sofa, my eyes glued to the book without actually reading. And I pretended to be calm while Atticus stood up, grumbling under his breath as he opened the door, positioning his body like a wall against the door frame, preventing the newcomer from having the slightest chance of entering the house. "Can I help you, Lord Lunefar?" Atticus sighed, as if his presence had already exhausted him.

I couldn’t make out the words, only that his tone stayed steady, professional, dangerously smooth. After a few seconds, the door clicked shut. Silence. I waited. One second. Two. Five. Was it safe? Then— “You can come out now,” his voice said from outside the door. I cracked it open just enough to peek—and there he was. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, brow raised like a disapproving dad slash reluctant hero. I stepped out slowly, clutching my bag like it could protect my dignity. “They’re gone?” I whispered.

AYLIN POV The heavy latch on my broken door rattled, making me instantly grab the iron poker from the hearth. Lucien had only been gone for a minute, but someone was already lurking outside. I held the metal rod up, watching a dark shadow flicker past the cracked wooden panels. The door swung open. "Miss me, darling?" Kaelen asked, leaning his shoulder against the splintered frame. He had his arms crossed over his black leather chest-plate, looking relaxed despite what happened

I sat up immediately, expecting Mama, probably here to apologize for earlier. I pulled the door open without hesitation. rather than her, Oleg framed himself in my doorway doorway. Surprise barely covered what I felt. I moved to shut the door in his face, but he was faster, slipping inside before I could react. “Get out,” I snapped. “No,” he muttered lazily, eyes drifting over my room like he owned it. He walked past me, running his fingers along my desk before stopping at my books. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Tsk. Hiding a novel between your study books?” He snorted. “That’s bold.”

The way he stood at the door way casually leaning against the frame with his long arms folded across his muscular chest made her wonder how long he'd been there. "Not quite long actually." He drawled pushing away from the door frame and sauntered deep into the room towards her, her heart began a familiar flip flopping and it took her a moment to realise that she'd said her thought out loud. She knew he was lying but she didn't want to argue.

He asked me as he filled the entire door frame, leaning in closer to me and resting an arm on the door frame in a way that allowed him to look down at me. I was dumbfounded. I was confused. How was he here? What was he doing here? Why was he here? Where had he been all this while? I must have been standing there for a while obviously staring at him because I suddenly heard Clarissa’s voice coming from behind me. “Babe, who is that at the door? Is that the delivery package that I-“ her voice died down as she looked over, her eyes meeting with Carter's dark pair. He in turn was just there looking as smug as ever as he was casually leaning on the door frame.

I will not water myself down to make me more digestible for you. You can choke. -Unknown. |A L E E Z A| In the doorway of the kitchen, he stood, arms folded over his chest, leaning casually against the doorframe with legs crossed. His presence exuded a charismatic devilry, a demeanor he wore with habitual ease.

Jaden walked into my bathroom, then he looked through the window. “A mother and children used as metaphor could only mean a tree. Yes he’s talking about the tree at the back of this building” I darted off to the tree, I saw the Kitchen head walking close to that tree. I ran but she picked the book. “Now handover the book to me” I ordered in a tensed voice. “Here you go ma’am” She gave me the book and continued walking. I sighed out of relief. I quickly ran and got petrol. Soaking the book in it, I used a lamp to light the book. It burned, I saw black shadows disappearing into thin air.

And then, one evening—when the bruising on his cheek had finally faded to a yellow-brown smear and the dark exhaustion under his eyes had lightened—he stood in the doorway. That damn doorway. The one he always found me through. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed loosely, wearing that infuriating, heart-melting, lopsided grin—the one that always made my lungs forget what air was. “Come with me,” he said. I looked up from the book I wasn’t really reading. “Where?” He didn’t answer. Just held out his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. And of course, I took it.

" A formidable elderly man leaned close to the door frame, arms crossed as he observed from a distance. Fear struck my heart immediately. I had not noticed him before. What if he had seen me tearing out pieces of that book? My unease grew as he waltzed in my direction. My breath became ragged the closer he got but at the last minute, he took a turn to the left. His attention was solely on the unconscious man whose palm had been on my forehead the minute before.