I Don T Care 3 Days Grace Mga Nobela at Kwento

“If you only plan on rejecting me in the end, you should do it now. I mean why should we prolong our agony when it would be what we will be going to do?” Gritting his teeth, he responded, "No. You wait for three months." "We're not lovers, but you're asking me for the three-month rule, Alpha Hugh. Fine. Let's not ruin the fun now and enjoy this night." I held my beer mid-air. "Cheers, Alpha Hugh." "There will be no rejection within the six months," he said. “But month after that, I don’t want to promise anything, Autumn.” I nodded. "Alright. Fine."

Our kiss seems to satisfy him, and he leaves, giving us some much-needed privacy. Grace’s eyes narrow as she watches the man leave. “You kissed me for a show? Are you crazy?” I don’t have the time to explain the situation. Instead, I give her a warning look. “Just remember, you’re my wife for the next three months, and you’ll follow my rules. I won’t let you ruin my reputation.” She rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest further. “Fine, I won’t sleep with any man for three months. But stop stalking me and leave me alone for some time. I’m tired of you.”

I never knew that my girlfriend, who was so germaphobic that she refused to even share a cup with me, would drink from another man's drink. I softly sighed and liked the post. Then I called my boss, Greg Simpson. "Mr. Simpson, I regret turning you down earlier. Can I still take on that project?" Greg was surprised but mostly relieved. "You've finally come to your senses! If you do this project well, you’ll be promoted twice when you get back! It’ll just be one year abroad. Believe me, one year is nothing if it's true love." I smiled and did not refute. That relationship had already ended.

in the way people describe a crack in a dam—technically accurate, deeply misleading. If I were gone for three days—four, realistically, because no trip ever ends when it says it will—I’d miss the Friday dinner with Marcus. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling like it might offer legal advice. Part of me was relieved. Not subtly relieved. Not politely relieved. Genuinely, shamelessly relieved in the way you are when plans you didn’t want to attend get cancelled by circumstances you can’t be blamed for. The other part of me, unfortunately, had a functioning sense of consequence.

“The only one I’ll ever make you. The only one you’ll ever need.” We stood there in the dark, locked in something I couldn’t name. The candlelight flickered behind me while Azrael stood in the shadow, pale eyes gleaming in the dark, patient as a spider. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. “Three days.” The words came out before I could stop them. His eyebrow lifted. “Give me three days.” I stepped back, inching closer inside the door. “Three days without you. No texts. No visits. Three days to sit with Kevin and my mother and pretend I’m normal. Three days to see if I can actually go through with it.”

I tightened my grip on the tray. Three days. Just survive three days.

“Or maybe he just wanted to give you a graceful way to hand it to someone who actually wants it.” “That's not what this is,” I say. But I don't actually know that. That's the terrible part. “Thirty days,” Vera says, standing, smoothing her skirt. “I'll start clearing my calendar for the transition. No hard feelings, Sera.” There are hard feelings. There have always been hard feelings. I don't say so. I just watch her go, heels clicking against the hardwood, and think, distantly, that I have never wanted to win something as badly as I want to win this.

I said softly. “Excuse me?” “I’ll give you seven days. If you can prove to me in that time that we can make this work. If not, you have to promise to let me go back to Paul and live the life that I deserve.” “Grace, come on. There’s a lot of history here, a lot to work through. It’s going to take longer than a week. Give me a month at least.” “Seven days,” I repeated. “Trust me, I’m being generous with that. Don’t push me”