If You Come Softly Audiobook Mga Nobela at Kwento

Somewhere along the line I’d forgotten to put them first as people. “Maybe I didn’t hear her voice well enough before,” I admitted. The admission didn’t come easy. Pride resists confession. Tyler tipped his head, surprised. “You reading her made you… softer?” he teased, but his eyes were gentle. “Good. Maybe you needed soft occasionally. Not to break you, but to make you notice.”

His voice was calm, ordinary, but his eyes kept flicking to me. “I’ll walk you,” I said. “You don’t have to.” “I want to.” My voice was sharper than I meant. His brow wrinkled but he didn’t argue. He never argues—another habit I hate because it feels like he’s already learned silence is safer than speaking. We stepped into the wet morning. The city was still half-asleep, gutters coughing rain, buses groaning past with faces pressed to fogged windows. Charles stayed close, his hand brushing mine once before pulling away like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold it anymore.

"Nancy, why are you still at work? It's late, and it's not safe for you to be alone. We're here to take you home." Shane spoke up, his voice calm but carrying a hint of admiration. "It's no surprise Evan is head over heels for her. She's really likable." I could not help but agree, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, she's a pure, kind, and beautiful she-wolf. No male wolf can resist her." Next to her, I felt like nothing more than a tiny speck of dust in the sunlight. Evan's frown softened as he looked at Julia. "Why did you come outside? It's cold. Get back in the car. We'll be done soon, and then I'll take you home to rest."

Like oh, this is where you run off to when you feel the need to avoid me? Or this is the peace and solitude you've been enjoying all by yourself? My eyes suddenly caught a book resting on a table just beside me. I picked it up, my eyes widening in surprise as I read the title aloud. “Taking charge of your finance...” I didn't need to turn to know Robert had come right behind me. I could feel his warm breath against the back of my neck. “...By Robert J. Hardy. I didn't know you write.” I finished with a gasp.

He has never been this way with me, I was expecting him to force himself on me but his gentle gaze made me docile. “I want you,” He said, sounding raspy. I could feel the yearning in his voice. I felt my wolf let out an exciting howl. “Gradually he will become ours.” I shoved her off my thoughts. What if he was this way because of what he wanted at the moment? What if this was a way to make me yield to him? “He's being so soft, I'm beginning to like him.” Her words invaded my mind with dirty thoughts. “Get a grip on yourself!” I commanded.

Axel was just too protective. He would get nervous when I was bitten by mosquitoes, got marks from sleeping on my hands or even when I was eating less. However, that was what I loved about him — the way he cared about me. The lights in the banquet hall were dim, but the gems on the ground sparkled in the dim light. Reagan felt something sharp under his feet, so he bent down to pick up a gem on the ground. It was the largest sapphire on the Eternal Sincerity bracelet.

I look at his hair, and I know it's overgrown, but I like the way it falls down his neck. "I am sorry," I mutter and then clear my throat. "I was reading. My eyes search for the book on the bed, and then I take it up. "I fell asleep and was woken up by someone screaming at the door; I thought it was nothing," I explain, and he nods, letting out a breath. "I am glad you are okay," he says, and even though I had thought of him as a man who is after my life, I can feel a certain degree of softness radiating from me. It feels too unfamiliar. Too gentle. And I don’t know what to do with gentle.

Not the sharp-tongued law student with ink on her fingers and fire in her spine. Not the girl who bit back tears just to glare at me harder. Not the girl who moaned my name like it meant sanctuary. She’s… hollow. And it cleaves something open inside me. For a breath, I almost say I’m sorry. Almost reach for her. But my fingers curl into a fist instead. Because I don’t do softness. I do control. It’s the only thing I trust not to rot in my hands. “Come,” I say—softer than I intend. My throat catches. I clear it. “It’s time.”

It made his chest ache, in a way that was full and grounded and indescribably human. “You know,” he said, finally breaking the quiet, “I didn’t fall in love with you because of how strong you are.” Sophie turned, eyes narrowing playfully. “You didn’t?” “No.” He walked toward her, slow and steady. “I fell in love with you because of how gentle you are. Even when the world hasn’t been kind back.” She blinked, caught off guard by the softness of it. He stepped closer until he was just inches away. “Your strength is what people see. But your softness—that’s what I stayed for.”

Yet the book is gently touch by this hand, and is taken care of softly. The voice so gentle yet dreaded as it echoed out, “Here,” the book leveled up with my slightly tremble of a gaze that is staring straight at the his familiar face. “I've been here the whole time, and I see you familiar with this grandeur of a sight, my lady. Are you fond of a classic, hm?” The bloody eyes flickered, but the darkest intensified while the blue surrounded the both with gentleness.