Disillusionment At Ten O'clock Novels & Stories

As darkness pulls me under, a tall figure steps into my fading vision. “Apologies ,” he says calmly, “for being late.” Race.

"You couldn't tolerate me showing Elena even the slightest affection, yet you can accept Vito sleeping with another woman? "It's only been a few months, and you already love him this much? What am I then? What about our ten years together?" I gave a soft, mocking laugh. "Ten years didn't stop you from changing the moment Elena appeared. So what right do you have to question me?" I closed my eyes, my face twisting as if in pain. After a long pause, I spoke again. "Come with me to see Vito one last time. After that, I'll give him up completely."

There was a complicated expression with a mixture of shock, confusion, and daze on Lil Ten’s face. When Daisy noticed the confusion on Lil Ten’s face, she asked her, “Lil Ten, this is related to Jens’ innocence. I hope that you can tell us everything that you saw. It’ll be extremely helpful for us to find out the truth.” Lil Ten slowly said, “I lost the bet that day. Naturally, I was willing to fulfill the bet. I went out at midnight. Actually, I wasn’t afraid at the start. After all, I’ve encountered all sorts of trouble in the military intelligence division.

I turned my family's old building into shared apartments. Five floors. Downtown. Huge courtyard. I tore down every non-load-bearing wall and redesigned the layout. Singles. Doubles. Four-person rooms. Something for everybody. Rent was half what everyone else charged. I only rented to people who'd graduated within the past three years. And instead of cramming more rooms into the courtyard, I added a gym and cafeteria. Brand-new gym equipment. Two cooks. Meals that cost about the same as dining hall food. And the first month? All meals were free. I really thought I was doing something good. Giving people fresh out of school a little breathing room. A place to call home. They cal

When Adrian Hale chose Rosalie Quinn for the tenth time, I was hanging helplessly over the cliff’s edge. He clutched a rope in one hand, the web between his thumb and forefinger worn raw and bloody. Rosalie was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “Adrian, I’m scared…” He hesitated for only a second before pulling out a dagger and cutting through the rope on my side. “Clara, hold on. I’ll come back for you after I save Rosalie.” The system counted down in my ear. [The tenth abandonment has been confirmed.] [Life countdown: zero.] Before I fell, I didn’t wait for him to turn around like I had the previous nine times. I only smiled at him. “Adrian Hale, we’re even now.”

The void in me expanded and It left like I laid down on the tracks waiting for a train to run over me. The Deal between Calla and I was done,and so were we. I stood by the wine celler,forced to stay in the shadows as everyone else enjoys the party. It was already past 9pm and the after party was just staring. Most of the guests went back to their resistance to change while some stayed back.

A delivery truck idled at the curb for a while, blocking my view entirely, and I found myself gripping the steering wheel with a frustration that felt disproportionate to something as small as a parked vehicle, my whole body strung tight with the particular exhaustion of hope that refused to properly extinguish even as the evidence mounted against it. By the time the light began fading toward evening, I understood, with a particular hollow disappointment, that whatever brief window had brought Julian and Cassidy to this neighbourhood had apparently already closed. I drove back to the office feeling the particular exhaustion of hope repeatedly deferred, and told myself, without much convictio

"You're up early. Did the cough keep you awake?" "No," Evelyn said, her voice thin but clear. She didn't look at the mug. "The house was just too quiet. When it's this quiet, every tick of the hallway clock sounds like someone tapping on the door." Arthur sat down on the matching wicker chair opposite her. He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened over the last forty-eight hours, and he hadn't shaved. "Julian’s deadline is in four hours. The courier leaves his office at eleven-thirty."

Should I stick to my plan and disappoint him? I paced around my sitting room exposed in a night wear, I was already preparing for bed at a few minutes past 7. What else was I supposed to do? I was bored to death but I didn’t want to go out with Mr. Blackwood. I turned to the television, what am I doing with my life? Watching serial kil^ers documentaries, this makes no sense. Am I making the right choice by pushing MB away? ** ** Omniscient Narrator ** Disappointment gnawed at Maxwell like a persistent weed. The club, which was typically bustling with activity, felt enormous and empty. He had ordered candles, scattered rose petals like a blush across the crisp white tablecloths, even hired a

“When did I sign up for ten? Mr. West, why are we even talking about this right here?” My gaze shifted around the hall — of course, we were the center of attention. They weren’t just looking; their mouths were agape, like one of us had gone insane. At this point, I wished I had teleporting power – I just wanted to disappear. Detroit, of course, looked unbothered. “Fine,” he said, leaning back, his arm still behind my chair. “Ten is generous. Let’s call it eleven.” I sputtered. “Mr. West, do I look like a vending machine?”