Novel & Cerita Burari Diary

Enjoy the journey ............. Emily POv : I was rearranging my cupboard, sorting through the piles of clothes and forgotten items, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a diary. My diary. I paused, feeling a rush of memories flood back at the sight of the worn, weathered cover. It had been so long since I last laid eyes on it, tucked away amidst the clutter of my belongings. With curiosity, I retrieved the diary from its hiding place, feeling the weight of years past in my hands. As I flipped through its pages, the familiar scrawl of my own handwriting greeted me, each entry a window into moments long gone but not forgotten.

His schedule was empty today since afternoon. I was about to turn back and close the door behind me when I saw something peeping out of his half open desk drawer. I took out what looked like a diary. It was soo girly. Why would Armaan use such a girly diary? I chuckled at just the mere thought of it Then it clicked me. I opened it and scrutinized the handwriting.... It was Ayesha's diary!!! I knew it! I had my suspicions all along. No wonder why Armaan had been acting like that and treating Ayesha in such ways as if he had developed some kind of Bipolar problem.

I'm in your room right now. - Nobody touches our things, Babi. They are on the dresser, where I left them, with the pages already marked, where I folded the ones necessary for Heitor's reading. - Ben, they're not. - Did you look right? Didn't put it somewhere else and don't remember anymore? Barbara, how many nights have you not slept? - Closing two. And I'm still lucid... Too much. I need the fucking diaries. - Search better. They didn't leave the house walking alone.

And I took privacy in high regard, you know. I battled with myself for a second between my morals and my curiosity. Well, of course curiosity won. I needed to find out what the meaning of my dream was. Who knows, it might contain important information that could help my survival. First, I opened up the diary to the latest page. My eyes almost popped as I read the words "Live Well, Sarang" written clearly in the middle of the page. It looked like it hadn't dried all the way before closing, as some of the ink stained onto the page next to it.

I couldn't tell if he had something to do or if he got nervous when I asked about us. “We were friends and enemies,” I mumbled, trying to wrap my head around it. Well, there was only one way to find out. No one knew me better than myself. My eyes fell on the diary. It was a big book, like one of those huge fantasy novels with maps and character pictures. It was something I couldn’t finish reading in weeks. Was I such a huge fan of writing? I sighed, picked up my diary, and dropped my number with the bartender to give to Tony before leaving the bar.

“Please.” I slapped his hand away and pulled out the torn pieces of paper I’d hidden earlier. “Here. This is all I got from the diary,” I said, placing them on the bed. His eyes darted between the papers and me as I started arranging them in order. My breath hitched with relief. “Thank goodness,” I muttered. “What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing again. “This… Adrian… it’s about the Lunaris Bloom. Just like you said—there’s one that was preserved. My mom wrote about it,” I said, handing him the paper.

My throat burned. I grabbed a half-filled bottle of water I had left on my desk and gulped it down at once. The feeling came again, rumbling down in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if this was pregnancy-induced or the pool of blood that kept flashing back to my mind. I got to the bathroom before I let it out. The sink was covered in my puke. I ran water over my face. I dragged in air slowly as I walked back to the office. A diary caught my eye as I packed every file and document back into the drawers. Pink colored thick-covered diary. This must have belonged to Victoria.

In the past, I had a lot of incidents where I went through all this, but right now I wanted to be robust. I opened the diary and placed it in front of him. The only page I needed to show him was where he wrote that one sentence. 5 October 1998 Today, my daughter Lyra Brown is born. His eyes went wide as he read what he wrote two decades ago in his diary.

I stepped forward and reported them both for disseminating obscene content and creating a public disturbance. “Officer, I have evidence and am willing to testify. They’ve been engaging in this behavior for quite some time now, with no signs of remorse. I hope you’ll ensure they receive the education they need to turn their lives around.” Linda and Layla were stunned, unable to process what was happening. I handed over everything I had—screenshots of the explicit “perks” they offered in fan chats, videos of their balcony showers, and all the incriminating evidence.

Those thoughts filled her mind. So today, she would finally do something about it. She had bought a brand new diary from the store. It was a special one. With leather on it and a strange P monogrammed on the cover. It was far fancier than anything the Dollar Tree should be selling. Finding it was a score that had Kristen grinning. She was enamored with her new diary. She was eager to get started on it. The diary was thick, too. She could write so many of her naughty ideas in them.