Diaries Aphmau Novels & Stories

Arjun stood up from his bed and moved into the bathroom. "One problem is solved now and the second to go", Neil murmured softly. "Now it's time to deal with you. My Angel", Neil thought as his deep hazel eyes shone dangerously. .. .. At Shimla, In Aashmaan's House:- Aashmaan was sleeping tiredly because of the headache she got whenever she read the diary which she was writing just to remember everything of her life. When Aashmaan was 12 years old in New York. She forgot her maternal grandmother's words and voices but she remembered her childhood by the pictures her grandma hid in her luggage.

There was a crayon of Max Brother in it. The pictures of Max Brother were all hung on the wall. There was a table on which there was a thick stack of diary. Beside the diary, there were all kinds of little things. It seemed that they were all related to Max Brother. When Amy walked up to the crayon of Max, she got goose bumps. It was not love, but abnormal. The secret room was a little cold. Amy sniffed. She walked to the table, picked up the diary and began to read it.

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.

I never doubted her, not for a second. The man in this diary, however, had no malice about him. A diary was a sacred thing. It wasn’t like other pieces of media where people were trying to lie or convince or persuade people to their side, a diary was someone’s only outlet and the closest to the truth they could share because it was with themselves. Alpha Aaron had written this diary for himself, not intending for anyone else to see his truth and his shame. He’d have no reason to lie to himself, and even if he did, it would not be in such a sad, pitiful way.

**David’s POV** Here in my New York apartment, as the relentless city rain echoes my mood, I find myself repeatedly drawn to the old, worn pages of Scarlet’s diary. This morning, the echoes of last night's indulgence weigh heavy, a migraine pulsing in the background as I numb it with the usual analgesic. But the diary demands attention once again. I flip to the last entry, a letter penned for me, her "Bumblebee," written in a moment of profound solitude and clarity.

she asked and I tilted my head to one side, since I had expected her to say something different. "Um… quite far but I'm taking it slow since it's a one of a kind type of book," I replied. "Psh, what do you mean one of a kind? India had tons of diaries. She wrote until she died. There are about ten to fifteen diaries back here." Amara spoke so casually and I opened my mouth in surprise. "Really?" "Of course, she lived a long life. So many tales to tell. Read up and I'll hand you the next one when you're done." Amara stood up after that for a glass of water.

Malia's heart skipped a beat as she opened the book, revealing page after page of handwritten notes. It was Bianca's diary. Malia's eyes scanned the first page and her heart broke as she read the words. Bianca had started writing in this diary when she discovered she had a brain tumor, a condition that could potentially erase all her memories. The thought sent a shiver down Malia's spine. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her sister to live with that fear.

I felt my insides turn and tried as hard as I could to try to move my body, but nothing I did helped. “Strip!” Stan said to the girl as he moved his chair away from me and got out his phone recording. The young girl looked scared out of her mind and stripped until she was standing naked before me, “Good girl, now strip him”, Stan told her, The young girl with trembling hands began to remove my clothes. I was disgusted out of my mind, this was a young girl for heaven's sake. How could Stan stoop so low? I tried to plead with the girl using my eyes, but she didn't seem to notice or care. I could tell she was probably used to this and felt nauseous out of nowhere.

"No. We should apologize instead." We held each other and broke down in tears. Leonard was still in a critical stage. Meanwhile, the content of his diary was published on the Internet. The diary recorded every moment we had spent together. I sat on the bench outside the ICU, and my phone kept vibrating. "Liv, have you seen the news? Leonard's diary has gone viral on the Internet!" "Oh my God! You guys had such great memories together!" "He loves you so much…" I tapped on my phone. The topic at the top of the trending list read, "high school memories of Leonard Burton."

“It hurts. But I still believe in you.” “Please don’t quit. We still need your fire.” She visited a shelter that week. No cameras. No press. Just healing. A girl named Hauwa ran into her arms and held on tight. “You’re not perfect,” Hauwa whispered. “But you’re still the only one who stayed.” Sophia knelt, face level, voice soft. “So did you.” That night, she picked up her journal. She didn’t write for clarity. She wrote to remember.