Novel & Cerita Just Haven't Met You Yet

he sighed heavily, the weight of his words evident in his voice. "I met her during a business meeting outside of New York. It was an unconventional introduction, as she accidentally spilled food on my shirt." Alex chuckled, but the laughter held a hint of anguish and sorrow. "And then, fate brought us together again in New York. Her name was Sarah Micheline, and we kept crossing paths unexpectedly."

"It's just coffee, mom. I'm meeting someone." "Someone?" Her mother paused, her hands dropping to her sides as her eyes widened slightly. "Yolande, you just broke off a ten year engagement a week ago. Don is still calling the house line because you blocked his mobile number. Who on earth are you meeting for coffee at one o'clock on a Monday afternoon?"

I have to come up with something… I went mute for a second. “Are you there? Look, I’m coming right away.” “You’re not going to meet me.”

he said. "Yea i know" i replied without thinking. Everywhere fell into an awkward slience before he spoke. "Go and get ready, we are going out" he said. I looked at him like he had grown two heads. "I am sorry, what? i asked. "Meet me downstairs in the next ten minutes" he said and walked out. I just sat down there, dumbfolded. What is going on? why is he suddenly taking me out? why is he being nice? All those thought ran inside my head. I went to my room to get ready. I took out a cream big shirt that almost reached my knee and paired it with a black short. I wore my black sneakers, took my bag and my other neccessary stuff and headed out.

It was familiar, dripping with venom and mockery. “Cut the crap, Charlotte,” the voice sneered. “I see the dead is awake.” Charlotte chuckled coldly, recognizing her immediately. “Jennifer,” she said. “What do you want? How did you even get this line?” “You want answers?” Jennifer said. “Meet me at Roger’s Park. 6 p.m. sharp. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this meeting.” The line went dead before Charlotte could reply. She lowered the phone slowly, her pulse quickening. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Why?” He cleared his throat, searching for something safe. “We just, met. Not long ago. This marriage wasn’t exactly planned, you know that. We don’t know each other from Adams. It makes sense to take time, to get to know one another, before, proximity. That’s just how I operate.”

"Then explain." "I have wanted you for years." Her brow draws into a frown. "Why? And how? I've never met you before." The sting of her statement amplifies as it sinks into my being. How can she forget me so? Is it even possible? "You have, leannán." "I have?" Confusion etches deeper onto her face as she regards me with even more perplexity. "But I haven't. I've never met or seen you in my life... not before we met in Edmonton a month ago."

Either they were trying to sell me something, scam me, or recruit me for a cult. ME: Hi... do I know you? The reply came almost instantly. UNKNOWN: You might. Or maybe I'm just a figment of your imagination. I snorted, shaking my head. ME: If you're in my imagination, you're late. The meeting started an hour ago, and there's no coffee left. UNKNOWN: Wow. Harsh. I come bearing mystery and intrigue, and you give me caffeine shade. I chuckled quietly, careful not to wake Killian. ME: Most people introduce themselves before being intriguing. It's the polite thing to do.

I felt like screaming when I read that message, but it was impossible because there wasn't just me in this house. That's the message I've been waiting for for a long time. I'm really looking forward to receiving that message. However, I didn't immediately send a reply message. I'm already crazy because I'm smiling in front of the laptop screen, but I'm crazy because I can fall in love with someone even though I don't even know what their face and personality are like. "We'll meet again at Lotus tomorrow, can you come?"

My parents are music professors, and their university is always hosting these music salons and exchange events. But they never took me. After I graduated from college, I was desperate to see what it was like, so I begged my mother for a visitor's pass. She was busy helping my sister Ella fill out an application for one of those concerts, and she cut me off cold: "Everyone attending is a top-tier musician. You can't even read sheet music—walking in there, you'd just stick out like a sore thumb." A few days later, I stood in the freezing wind, listening to the applause rolling out from the auditorium. My sister stood at center stage, performing alongside a bunch of renowned musicians. That nig