I'm Done Waiting Novels & Stories

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the digital chat window that had consumed my entire evening. 𝘔𝘦: 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 35 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘡𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘢. 𝘔𝘦: 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

Astrid had a great time celebrating with Coco. At one point, Jerome went to her and asked, “Coco, Isaiah has been waiting for you at the entrance under the rain for five hours. Will you go see him? “I heard his medical condition flared up again a few days ago, and he had another operation done. He’s not doing well.” “No,” Coco declared firmly. After the party ended, Astrid took Coco downstairs and stumbled into Isaiah, who was still waiting outside. He had lost a lot of weight because of his illness, and his complexion had become sickly.

only to judge me when I got there? I closed my eyes briefly. Please... The phone finally finished powering on. Without wasting another second, I unlocked it and immediately opened the booking app. My thumb shook as I tapped the icon. The page loaded. My eyes flew straight to the reservation. I stared at the screen as my heart sank. Still pending. He hadn't approved it. He hadn't declined it. He hadn't done anything. The little hope I had been carrying home with me slowly crumbled. I let out a long, defeated breath before falling backward onto my bed.

I yelled. If I stayed any longer, I would certainly miss my flight. I didn't want to waste any more time here. I refused to play along with Bruno anymore!

A smile broke out of my lips, followed by a long stretch when that familiar word appeared on my screen, “Application successful.” Now, all I have to wait for is the final result, which I hope will be positive. I stood from the chair and glanced outside; the sky was still clear even though it was late evening. I deliberated on getting some sleep or not, but I finally decided to sleep while I wait for Aria's return. ... I didn't know how long I slept until my phone rang; my eyes were drowsy, and my hands were shaky as it unconsciously moved around for the phone. Finally, the coldness of the screen met with my hand, and I picked up the call.

Submission deadline: 18:00 today. She checked the time. Less than two hours. — Across the city— Cami sat on the floor of her new apartment. Back against the wall. Laptop open in front of her. Not working. Just… waiting. Because this part— Didn’t require action anymore. It required patience. And she had learned that too. — Her phone lit up. Notification from the review board. No content. Just status. Pending submission. She stared at it. Then set the phone down beside her.

I had not read the fourth page before. I don't know what made me leave it for tonight, the last page, the one Silas had handed over with the others and that I had set aside each time I'd opened the envelope, telling myself there would be a better hour for it, a quieter one, one where I had already done everything the first three pages asked of me. I understood now, with the page in my hands, that I had been waiting for exactly this moment without knowing I was waiting, the moment when I had actually finished the asking, when there was no more work left between the words and the truth of whether I'd done what they required. I had done it.

I asked to borrow their printer. Happiness bubbled up inside me as I watched the machine print the agreement out. Outside, Sandra was still on the phone. She was impatiently pacing back and forth. She'd occasionally glance at me through the glass door. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I said somewhat apologetically after walking out of the cafe. It was quite the wait. The printer was a little finicky, and it took 15 minutes to print the agreement. This was probably the longest Sandra had ever waited for me throughout our past few years of marriage.

At my wedding rehearsal, the officiant asked for the third time for us to exchange rings. My best friend, Stacy Campbell, stood beside me as the maid of honor, looking impish. "The treasure hunt game's started. Guess where the ring's hidden?" My fiance, Jeremy Dean, let out a helpless laugh and started guessing hiding spots. I was the only one staring at the empty box, sweat breaking out across my forehead. It was starting again. This so-called treasure hunt game. When we were kids, Stacy hid my scarf in the boiler room while Jeremy kept watch for her. I searched for four hours and finally dug the scorched corner of it out of a pile of ash. Right before the SATs, my admission ticket go

I emailed it to Miller and knew I was finished with everything to do with sports. Still no tears.