I Am Looking Respectfully Novels & Stories

I simply flipped another page calmly. Her footsteps abruptly stopped just inches from my desk. “I'm talking to you, Anya.” That's when, I lifted my gaze, slowly. Met her own gaze, and held it. And for the first time since everything started, I didn't feel small. Okay! That must have surprised her, because did you see the look on her face? There's the way her smile flickered. “Good morning,” I said simply. Because that should do. Just flat and respectful. Don't call it submissive. Not emotional either. Just, measured and controlled.

Same way of standing that didn't ask for the room's attention and got it anyway. He was looking at me the way you look at something that shouldn't be where it is. I looked back at him the way you look at an Alpha whose facility you're working in. Measured. Professional. The right amount of eye contact for the rank, the right pause before I spoke.

she said, with a hint of disgust in her tone. Caught off guard by their reaction, I briefly glanced at Iris, who gave me a subtle nudge, urging me to show my respect. Realizing my unintentional show of disrespect, I took a step forward, bowing respectfully. My innocent query seemed to strike a nerve, and the atmosphere grew tense. The women's expressions turned icy, and they exchanged a disdainful glance before responding.

It was a basic rule that needs not to even be mentioned twice: Let the speaker finish talking first before talking. "I personally want to face the lady because that is how much I look up to her." Because of these words, the lively nobles grew quiet and the elders wore serious expressions. If someone was looked up to by their leader, doesn't that mean they must definitely respect them? But how can they respect someone unfamiliar and unknown? Does an individual more powerful than Lucian really exist? That would mean one thing and that is that they must be insanely strong. All eyes curiously inspected Amaryah. She did not have an aura. She even seemed weak and sickly because of her pale complex

I look at him—really look—and I realize something. This man… he’s not withholding affection because he’s unsure. He’s doing it because he respects me more than I’ve ever been respected in my life. Because he sees me—not as an object to claim, but as a person worth waiting for. And God, that hurts in the best and worst way. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” He steps forward. His voice is low but steady. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

"I hope this has cleared up any further claims of her weakness or that she may weakened me. If anything, this display should let you all know that she is far from it." "I am a very caring and kind person. I've been through a lot, so I know what it's like to be hurt due to others and their prejudices against you. I will never allow any of that to occur under me. If I see it, I stop it. All of you will be treated with the utmost respect from me, as long as it is given in return." Everyone in the room bowed in respect at our words. I held on to her for dear life, as I gazed down into her eyes. She looked back up at me with a smile.

while I worked to display a smile. She examined me suspiciously while her eyes contracted a bit and she questioned, "Yeah, how may I help you?" I moved forward toward her with purposeful and steady steps. With a firm yet respectful tone I addressed her as "Madam." The white envelope I extended held important contents that might change everything. I handed her the letter while saying "This is a letter."

I whispered under my breath, a tiny spark of relief flickering in my chest. “This is the first time you’ve been useful to me in my entire miserable life. You’re not totally useless after all. Thank you.” I forced my aching legs to carry me over to him, ignoring the pain shooting up my calves. When I reached him, I bowed my head slightly, trying to be as respectful as possible—even though I was exhausted and frustrated. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” I began softly, keeping my eyes lowered to the floor like I was supposed to. “Who are you?”

I felt the stares of passers-by on my back. “What is your problem?” he shouted. His voice was a little shaky. Shock and horror were painted all over his face. “Look here, I have been patient with you,” I growled as I moved closer to him. “I asked you respectfully, and I believe I deserve to be answered with the same level of respect.” He gulped, looking at me with widened eyes.

“Your girlfriend hates me, the whole pack hates me, and your mother might be the only person who has an ounce of favour towards me. So I won’t tell her to shut up when she’s talking because it’s disrespectful.” “Oh,” he finally speaks. “You care about respect?” “Yes. And I respect her.” I slowly nod. “I will smile and nod at whatever she has to say about you, me, and the us that shall never be but don’t think for a second that I’m deluded enough to picture it, or that I am interested in pursuing you. I don’t like you either.” For a moment, something flashes in his gaze. Something deep and haunting, but it doesn't linger enough for me to decipher it. “And I should care?”