Clear Search History Novels & Stories

We can't make someone dislike someone. I cleared the search history and restarted the computer... I should keep my son's identity hidden from everyone, including my husband. He'd be furious if he knew anything about it. ➪➪➪➪➪☝︎︎☝︎︎ʀᴇᴀᴅ|ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ|ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ|ʟɪᴋᴇ☝︎︎☝︎︎➪➪➪➪➪

"Just that the room was totally ransacked. The sofa was turned over. The mattress was on end. What I'd left in the room was everywhere. My computer was smashed." "That wasn't your main computer?" "No, it's my travel rig." She looked up at him and spoke slowly. "There isn't anything on it outside of a few games and my streaming equipment." "Your browser history though..." "I wiped it," she whispered. Silas nodded. He wasn't about to believe she was as thorough as she thought she was. But at least she'd tried.

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He turned to the computer and pressed ‘ctrl h’ and cleared his browsing history before the lady could approach him. “I’m talking to you.” The lady approached him with the torch still on him, burning his eyes. “What are you doing here?” She questioned him in a stern voice. “I wanted to search about something?” He stammered, not sounding convincing at all. His words came out like a question. The lady squinted her eyes at him in suspicion. It was hard to notice her expression in the dark room and with the light burning his retina. She stood beside him after turning off the torch. Abel said a prayer of relief when she shut that bloody torch. He looked up at her from his sitting position. She was

Perhaps I was the one who was dubious about Jacques, I thought. Then I went to his browser history. Men, Syl included, often had a secret they found it hard to tell. That secret lay in their browser history, where they buried traces of indecency among logs of what seemed like visiting normal websites. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. I simply wanted to know what Jacques was like before. To my disappointment, he had cleared it out entirely, as if he anticipated ‌that I would check up on his past today. I gave up on finding anything about him. If he wanted to hide everything, knowing his personality, he was stubborn to allow anyone to find out.

Ziggy climbed onto the barstool and quickly turned on the laptop before entering an unknown website. After zooming past three transactions, he closed the website and cleared his browser history. When he saw the name card beside the laptop, his bright eyes started to squint...

The screen was still on but the recent tab had been closed. I placed my hand on my waist and stared at the device. Based on what had just happened, I could vow that Victor slipped into my room and reopened all the closed tabs from my G****e search earlier. It’s a good thing that I always clear my G****e history at the end of the day or maybe it’s not a good thing right now because my last search was on body swaps and I had forgotten to delete it.

The desktop loads. I move the cursor to the browser. It’s already open. I click the history first. Nothing unusual jumps out. Just work emails, a recipe site. Some clothing store she must have been browsing. I almost close the tab, but then I notice the row of open tabs at the top. I click through them slowly. F******k profiles, LinkedIn pages, and I*******m feeds. All with the same name typed into the search bar at the top of each one. Victor Collins.

“A photograph from a future neither of us remembers.” “Conflicting coffee history.” “A phone call from a place your world says doesn’t exist.” Claire added: “And the fact that I stopped reading.” Elena stared at her. “The page.” “What?” “Can you reopen it?” Claire went still. “I don't know.” “Try.” She picked up her laptop. Opened it. The browser showed a blank tab. Claire navigated to history. Nothing. “No.” “Search.” She did. Nothing. “The story is gone.”

Then I found his contact information in my directory, tapped Delete Contact, and cleared out the recently deleted folders to ensure not a single microscopic trace of Richard’s digital footprint remained on my hardware. Finally, I navigated to my web browser history, clearing the cache and cookies just to be completely, unequivocally thorough. When I backed out to the home screen, the interface looked clean, empty, and safe. A massive, suffocating weight lifted off my shoulders, leaving me gasping for air as if I had just surfaced after nearly drowning. I was shaking, covered in a fine layer of nervous sweat, but the terror was gone, replaced by a sudden, hard-edged clarity. I had wiped the s