From The Corner Of The Oval นิยาย & เรื่องราว

For the corner of my eyes, I saw his grip tightened on the steering. “I wasn’t mocking them,” he said quietly and I scoffed. The tears slid down my cheeks. Of course he would defend himself. The mighty Chaise Crownell would never apologise for anything. In his eyes, he could never be wrong. “I just meant to say that they have no means to contact you. They don’t even like the city, that's why you always visit them at the end of every year…” I didn’t respond to that. He could defend himself all he wanted. I felt his gaze on me but didn’t look at him.

Old Basketball Court Riley staggered her way into the already packed court and was about to weave through the crowd when a firm hand gripped her tightly. Alert, she spun around—only to meet Olivia’s scowl. "I'm..." Riley tried to think of an excuse. She knew Olivia was upset. "What’s wrong with you?" Disappointment flashed across Olivia's pretty features. "I'm sorry," Riley muttered, mentally scolding herself. "You know what? Do whatever you want." With that, Olivia turned to leave. Riley quickly grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, please... I—I don’t know what came over me." Before Olivia could respond, they were shoved into a corner as two hefty, mean-looking guys in uniforms dragged a tall boy w

"He's here." Darrell moved to her side and knelt. His hand brushed against the baby's tiny fists, then rested gently on Coral's arm. "You did well." As the door eased close, I glanced at it and I froze. Half hidden by the frame, a face. Watching. Evelyn. Her eyes were fixed on the scene inside the room. Lips parted not in joy, but something darker. A longing twisted too far. But I chose to say nothing. Not now. Not in this moment.

He added and the crowd began murmuring. Cora took this as an opportunity and walked and climbed into the ring with her big stomach, then she stood right in front of Cole, watching as they were staring at Cole with evil looks. "If anyone wants to get to me, you will have to pass through me" she said, daring everyone to make a move. Lucas stood in a corner, watching what was going on without interfering. He was very close to the ring. Cohen and the elders were somewhere in the crowd and were as perplexed as everyone else.

I walked towards the edge of the area, but she was nowhere to be found. Just then, I heard a sudden cracking sound behind me, causing me to swiftly turn around. "Who's there?" I asked, my eyes widening in fear, worried that I might encounter bullies lurking in the back of the building. The cardboard boxes, which seemed to have been arranged as a makeshift shelter, tumbled to the ground behind me, revealing Olive. She stood there with her short, curly black hair resting on her shoulders and her oval-shaped face that many people found appealing. "Olive?" I gasped, my heart leaping with joy in that moment.

Let them underest⁠imate the subje‍c‌t. On the table lies another tray: fr⁠ui‍t, wate‌r, and a⁠ fol‍ded square of paper towel. At first it lo⁠oks o⁠rdinary, until I see a fa⁠int indent near one corner—le⁠t⁠ters‌ pressed⁠, not wr‌itten. I hold it against the light‍. ‌Under vent C4 –‌ mid⁠nig‌ht.

She turned around and glanced at the last row of the auditorium. Sophie sat in the corner, with her suitcase standing next to her chair. Olivia sat beside Sophie, her feet dangling in the air, the tips of her shoes just two centimeters off the ground. Her right hand held the pink dinosaur; its rubber tail peeked out between her fingers, glowing softly in the light. Sophie’s left hand rested on Olivia’s shoulder, her fingers clenched together, the knuckles turning white. Neither of them said anything. Sophie looked at Jenny, and Olivia also looked at Jenny. Their gazes pierced through the noisy crowd, the reporters walking back and forth, and the shiny brass buttons on the bailiffs’ uniforms,

Violet’s P.O.V. “….aaaaand done!” Delaney exclaimed, stepping back from the stool I sat on. Her hands were clasped behind her back and a grin with the intensity of a child opening presents on Christmas morning lit her face. I looked to Olive, who was reclining on the chaise lounge in her bedroom. She had her arms propped behind her head, the obsidian bikini top she wore on display.