Eight Years Novels & Stories

Perhaps Liam's presence served as a poignant reminder of the family he had lost, prompting him to form a unique bond with my child. "Mommy, I'll show you my new fighting move and win against Uncle Alex," Liam declared with determination. I hugged my son tightly. "I'm so proud of you, Liam. Go beat him for me!" With great enthusiasm, the two of them rushed toward the center of the pack ground to engage in their playful battle. I watched from a distance, a smile gracing my lips, as I marveled at how swiftly time had passed. My child had grown into an 8-year-old, full of health and curiosity, radiating a bright and infectious personality. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the joy he brought

my mother asked sleepily. My father stared at her fiercely and she didn't even flinch. “I won't allow it!” “Why won't you?” I said along with my mother. “He's older than you are!” “Oh my!” I said ironically. “Three years apart is really something!” We were silent and stared at each other in fury. My mother seemed to find the scene amusing. “You're fifteen, Manuela!” “And he's eighteen.” “Exactly!” “What does that have to do with it? You are eight years older than my mother. EIGHT!”

I sаy. Kеith is gооd аt а countless numbеr оf things, which is dаmn impressive. I hired him eight yеаrs аgo. I'm just оnе yeаr older thаn him. Hе is twеnty-fivе аnd I'm twеnty-six. "Оkаy so...." hе trаils оff.

With their gorgeous and young-looking faces, they're saying that they're older than her and even older than her aunt! “M****a!” she cursed, she thought she might have eternal youth in this place. Only to find out from a book left by the scholars of Rendor which she read later on, that they only have 88 days in a year. This means they age four times faster, but only in number. She knew she can't tell them her actual age from the earth, ‘How many years has it been? I should be in my late or mid-twenties now, so...’

"Relax brother, you will find her soon, it just a matter of time." "It has been eight years Aiden, EIGHT fucking years! And I still couldn't find her!" Jayden yelled. The second son of Blackfrost, Carson, who stood at the right side of Jayden, began to speak, "But in each year, new women will reach the age of eighteen, if you haven’t felt her presence at the moment, it probably because your mate hasn't matured yet." Jayden sighed, "You probably right Carson, besides I am not the only one who passed eighteen and is still single, both of you are."

"I think so. So tell me, how are you going to get home now? Where do you live by the way? Do you live far away?" He smirked as he uncorked the bottle of water and took a few gulps. "For someone, your age, you're pretty smart and inquisitive." She slapped his arm. "What do you mean someone my age?! I'm Eight and I'm no longer a child." "Hmph. Who said you're no longer a child? You're just different. Special and kind. You're the kindest person I've ever met. You live around here?" "Yes. My house is not too far away. Wanna come over?"

On the first day of school, I arrive alone to register, clutching my admission letter. But the security guard at the entrance chases me away. I angrily call my best friend, but he simply laughs on the phone. "Wyatt, you literally have glasses, and you can't tell? The admission letter you took was just a fake I made. The real one is still at your house." I immediately buy a ticket home and rush back, sweating anxiously as I search everywhere for it. But after looking for ages, I still can't find it. Then, my phone rings, and I hear Shane's carefree voice. "Wyatt, stop looking. I had Wendy bring your admission letter to you. She's in Linton." I immediately take the high-speed train to Lint

He held that. Because she has been managing a long time, he said. People who have been managing for a long time sometimes go straight to the real thing when they finally land somewhere they think they can. I looked at him. Is that from experience, I said. He held my gaze. Yes, he said. I turned back to the window. The courtyard. The tree. Almost March. Eli's birthday in March. Eight years old. I thought about what eight looked like from here. I thought about what this household looked like from the outside.

Micheal barely suppressed his laughter, while Jack's reaction was even more amusing—he was literally facepalming. “Lilian dear, what does your father think about this?” Yvonne’s voice crackled from the device. “Daddy and Jack are boring. They said I’m too young, but I’m four.” “Almost four,” Jack echoed Micheal’s earlier correction, earning an eye roll from Lily. “Hmmm… okay, I think we should talk about this when you turn thirteen, maybe,” Yvonne suggested gently. Lily counted her fingers from four to thirteen and then exclaimed, “Eight years! I’ll wait.” She agreed adorably.

In my fourth year trapped inside this oceanfront villa, a notification suddenly popped up on my old tablet. A memo had synced from the cloud. The title was “The Choice I Made at Eighteen.” It was a journal entry I’d saved to the cloud ten years ago, back when I was still in high school. In it, my younger self had asked hopefully: “Is it worth giving up the chance to train in Paris so I can stay and help Michael Grant build his company?” Every word showed just how hopelessly devoted I’d been to him. I stared at the screen for a long time before slowly lowering my gaze. My eyes fell on my feet. They’d been shattered beyond repair, leaving them permanently twisted and deformed. Just a