Eight Years Novels & Stories

The eighth year was eight and a half months away. It was also, in the way that forward things are present before they arrive, already underway. —

Eight years of distance finally closed. And for the first time in longer than Emma could remember, she slept without nightmares.

For eight years, I'd waited with everything I had. I was done waiting.

a little hooligan echoed. At this time, Eleanor was only about seven or eight years old, and even though her face was dirty, it was not hard to see her original delicacy. She rolled her eyes and snorted, “What do you mean, hanging out with other men? That’s my little brother! That’s a boy, a boy!” She repeated it, panting, “The two of you are eighteen, and I am only eight! I don’t even know what I like or not! Besides, there’s a ten-year age difference between us — an old cow eats young grass!”

“Laura, I hope you’re happy, housing your father… You're such a big girl now. But for how long?” I knew where this was heading. Marriage. This… this is why I moved out. “I have lost my appetite. I'm going to bed.” The lazy noise of the chair against the floor made my exit even harsher. “You have a suitor, Laurabeth!” my mother wailed from her seat. “I have millions of suitors for you who would help us solve the problem of our bankruptcy, yet you reject them!” Father yelled. “Because I am eighteen and I just graduated high school, Mum! What would the neighbors say? What would-”

Lily’s POV 18 Years Later Eighteen years. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like only yesterday I was rocking them in my arms, singing lullabies and staying up all night to soothe their tiny cries. And now… they were standing right in front of me, side by side, smiling as everyone cheered for them.

"Christine, don't leave me. I know I was wrong. I realized it too late. Let me love you. Give me a chance to make things right." But I stayed still, unmoved. "It's too late. I'm tired." His brows furrowed as he stepped closer. "Eight years ago, you crawled into my bed, got pregnant, and married me. And now you want to walk away? Is this some kind of push-and-pull game?" I stared at him in disbelief. I'd thought he finally understood. But the way he saw me… was still just as selfish as ever.

“So… does that mean when I grow up, I can use knowledge to protect the people I love? Even without fighting?” For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. This boy wasn’t speaking like a child who should be chasing kites and eating candy. He was threading questions most men his father’s age couldn’t even ask. My chest tightened, and before I knew it, the words slipped out. “How old are you, Ramson?” He blinked, then grinned proudly. “I’m eight.” Eight? My brows shot up. “You’re joking.” “No,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I really am eight. Why? Do I look older?”

CHAPTER ONE ARIANNA, 8 YEARS OLD Music and laughter rang out, filling the Vitales’ backyard. Despite the cold October day, everyone was in good spirits as they celebrated yet another birthday. Matteo Vitale turned eight today. His parties were always all-day events, with presents, cake, singing, and more presents, of course. Daddy’s friends threw the best parties, but my favorite was Hannah’s and mine. We’d just recently turned eight, and Daddy got us both a pony, plus a telescope to share.

Not just tonight. I’d lost her eight years ago. And there was no getting her back.