Entangled Life Book Novels & Stories

A pause He went on, "But I know this," as he did. "Institutions won't be able to negotiate our lives in their current form." She held his gaze. “No,” she said. "Uniquely by us." They didn’t touch. They didn’t promise. But something shifted—not backward, not forward. Inward. That night, alone again, Elara opened her notebook. She wrote one line. Isolation is the price of clarity—but connection survives it. She closed the notebook and turned off the light.

What came after. The letters and the yellow nursery and the Tuesday morning proposal and the ice and the building of something from the wreckage. The choice and the daily choosing and what it looked like from the inside of a life that had been built deliberately rather than fallen into. The specific texture of being inside a good life that had cost something to get to and was better for the cost. The three chapters were the damage. The book needed to be the whole thing. I sat at the table for a while.

She sat with the notebook closed on the last evening of December. She thought: this is the record of someone arriving somewhere and becoming part of it. She thought: it is not finished. She thought: it is not going to be finished. That's the point of it. She opened the last few pages of the notebook. She picked up her pen. She wrote: The fourth year. What I know now that I did not know in February three years ago: That the work is not separate from the life. The cases and the cases and the cases — they are the life. Not the background to it.

And how much it contained. The year that had preceded it. The fire that had produced it. The woman it had required her to become. The marriage it had required both of them to remake from the complete account of what was real. The children who were learning, from living inside it, what honesty and accountability and repair looked like in practice. The book that was in the world and the women reading it and the things it was doing in those readings that she would never fully know but could feel, in the way she felt things that mattered, as real. The ordinary life was full.

She is a smart girl, maybe she has seen through my composure and figured something out. “I’m messing with you,” she exclaimed, but her expression said otherwise. I smiled, genuinely happy to be with her, but my mind kept drifting back to a few minutes before Elle showed up in the kitchen. The necklace Marcelo had given to me as a thank you for saving his sister, and when he had clasped it around my neck, his hand had brushed against my skin. The memory of his touch sent a shiver down my spine. From the handshake from our first meeting, and now his hands gently brushing my neck. The progress and evolvement of our encounter is something I can’t comprehend to which level I could handle his clos

Miriyam chuckled, the sound very empty, “You're signing my death certificate with this and I haven't even begun to enjoy my life yet.” Elixir raised an eyebrow, “What are you talking about? You've been alive for what? A million years. What enjoyment are you still talking about?” Miriyam regarded the Beta with sad eyes, “Not up to a million, I'm ancient but not that ancient. And yes, I've been alive but never really living. How can anyone live by being cooped up in that darn mountain?” Elixir watched the Elder with a new perspective. He was starting to see her for her and not for the wise elder she was. Miriyam might be years older than Elixir and the King himself but she looked anything but

After the ceremony, I started strolling around casually in the orphanage premises. I felt a bittersweet feeling as I walked along the corridors. I was an orphan too, and I'd grown up in an orphanage since I could remember. That was why I knew that it wasn't easy living in an orphanage. They had few resources, and whatever resources they had had to be split up between the numerous children there, often causing the orphanage kids to develop paranoia from a young age. Paranoia? I found myself thinking about Perry again. If I hadn't transmigrated into his world, would he not have jumped off after me to his death after all?

What could be worse than what I was currently experiencing? Rosalie took off the ropes that held my wrists bound. I winced out in pain. Everything was awfully painful. My heart, my life, my whole body. This was it— the end for me. My peaceful, old life had ended. I was now dining with the devil, and the first thing he took in return was my happiness.

It didn’t matter how many meetings I canceled, how many businesses waited, how many worlds out there kept spinning — mine was concentrated inside that room, in that bed, in that woman. I adjusted the pillow behind her back, pulled my chair closer, and intertwined our fingers. Outside, the night pressed on, indifferent to human drama. But inside, something was becoming clearer to me with almost frightening sharpness: I no longer had a life that was only mine. I had three. And if I needed to face doctors, courts, fate, or demons — seen or unseen — I would. I leaned close once more and whispered near her ear: “Rest. I’m right here.”

I have been daydreaming for a while just then my manager and best friend, Stella, walks towards me. “Let’s go and celebrate!” she grinned as I, once again had a successful event. I laugh at her and nods happy. “Yeah sure thing, my treat~” I cooed and holds her hand playfully as we walk to my car and headed to our favorite restaurant, along with boyfriend, Russell. He and I were already three years and he is my inspiration to the books I’ve been writing. He’s like the Romeo to my Juliet. My Edward to my Bella. I giggled at the thought of it. “Girl, is that Russell?”