Fall Pfp นิยาย & เรื่องราว

This company is a significant factor in our collective celebrity status. As I voice my intention to reach out to someone through a text message, I make a move to grab my phone. However, the person in front of me relents and gives me a nod of approval. After finishing his meal and swallowing, he begins to speak. "She couldn't stop yawning during our trip back from the state park. She didn't arrive home until three in the morning," he types out in another text message. "I should have known she would wake up." His gaze shifts towards me. "She suffers from FOMEFT."

EVA “Pucker up, asshole.” I blinked. And blinked again just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me because what the hell was I seeing? I have never had reason to question the efficiency of my vision before. It was at least 96 percent accurate. But apparently, the 4 percent was coming in hard today. Because… “What the fuck?” More accurate words could not have been uttered at that moment. “Pucker. Up.” “Yeah. I heard you the first fucking time. What I don’t understand is why you’re telling it to me.”

I glared at him and frowned my lips "Fucking stop all this awful pranks, cause I don't want to have faith anymore...I don't want to feel anything at all either, cause...." My voice cracked, and tears gathered up in my eyes, but I didn't stop speaking "Cause it would fucking make me more miserable and more worst than I am already"

If I had known that I would be in the same class as Hale I would have not accepted the offer of continuing with my final year, but nooo I had to pray and hope for a way to be able to finish this year, and here it is but it's not what I expected. I have my reasons for finishing this year, and they are valid to be honest and really important but I did not put into consideration that I would be in the same class as the elites and most especially Liam and Suzie. What's done is done though, so I can't keep crying over spilt milk. It's time to put my big girl panties on. Why in the hell do they even call them "big girl panties" ? Who even came up with the name? Anyway I am not even going to start

“No. No, Clea, don’t say that. You don’t mean it. “We can try again, have another child. We still have a future, a long life ahead of us. We still have—” His words buzzed around me like flies. I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice any longer. “There is no ‘we’, Dario. You know I don’t make empty threats. And you don’t need to pretend to care. Have some dignity.” He opened his mouth to argue, but the door swung open before he could speak. Fran stepped in, lips pouting, her voice soft and pitiful. “My leg hurts so much, Dario.”

His eyes were dry, and his stubble had grown. I watched him with mixed feelings. But when I snapped to my senses, I smiled self-deprecatingly. This was what he deserved. The rental period for the funeral parlor had ended, so a staff member chased Marcus out. He staggered to his feet and out of the funeral parlor, barely able to stand. He still clung to my photo. I followed him back to the home we'd once shared. It was also the place where I'd hurried back and gotten into a fight with him before ultimately falling out.

I said sharply. He paused. “Um! Okay. Alright.” The laughter faded. His smirk disappeared. I knew what was coming next. I braced for it. The punch landed across my face like a lightning bolt. My chair tipped, and I crashed to the ground, my side slamming hard against the floor. A sharp pain shot through my body, forcing a groan out of me. As I lay there, dazed and hurting, his friends stood behind him—jeering, laughing like it was some sick joke.

As soon as she put down her bowl, Jack's voice came over. Hazel was startled for a moment, quickly glanced at him, "Oh, I sprained my foot." Jack pondered for a moment. On the day of the wrap-up party, he had heard Hazel say that her foot was injured. It still hasn't healed? "Sprained foot still needs medicine to help scab and prevent scarring?" "...Pamela bought the wrong one at that time." Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at her. After a moment, he spoke again, "Bought the wrong one? And only half left?"

She tried to sit up. The dizziness pinned her down again. Trapped in the bed. Trapped in her body. Trapped in a conspiracy she couldn’t even physically chase. Tears slid down her face. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just exhausted grief. Her monitor read 96. Even crying was dangerous. At 2 a.m., Maya stared at her phone. Julian’s offer glowed on the screen. $200M. Patent war ends. Alex rests. She opened a new message.

“Spill Tea Now is about to learn what happens when they come after what’s mine.” “Xander, these photos are humiliating. Everyone is seeing me at my worst. Everyone is saying I’m not good enough for you.” “Everyone is wrong.” “Am I? Look at these.” I shoved my phone at him, showing him the worst one. Me passed out on a couch, mascara smeared, looking like a disaster. “Does this look like someone who belongs at your side?” He glanced at the photo, then back at me. “This looks like someone who was nineteen and having fun in college. Like everyone else on the planet.”