Little Space Rules Novels & Stories

*** As King Samarth entered the grand throne room, his regal presence commanded reverence. Commander Raj, stationed at the entrance alongside a humble servant, bowed deeply, his eyes cast downward in deference. With the king's approach, Raj fell into step beside him, maintaining a respectful distance of one pace. The chief advisor Yuvraj, Lady Tamar, the esteemed diplomat, and the assembled advisors rose from their seats, bowing in unison as Samarth reached the throne. Their gazes remained downcast, a mix of trepidation and esteem for the monarch.

I feel pity for the big guy. Right now, Roman and I are in a stand-off against his cousins Menandro and Lara in a game called Sapo. It meant Choke the Frog, but without an actual frog. A figurine frog sat on top of an erected log in the middle of the garden. Each team has ten gold coins and all we have to do is aim for the frog’s mouth, choke the figurine. It was easier said than done. Each team hasn’t been able to choke the freaking open-mouthed frog yet. We only have four coins left for each team. Menandro missed another shoot. Lara’s aim was no good as well.

He looked up when he heard me approaching, one eyebrow raised in quiet surprise. "I'll do it," I blurted before I could lose my nerve, my voice steadier than I felt. He raised his brow in amusement, letting the last smoke curl into the air. "I'll accept the offer." I cleared my throat. "But I have one rule. No catching feelings. No strings attached." Ace took another slow drag, then flicked the cigarette away. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, dark and knowing. "Crystal clear, sweetheart."

10 RULES OF OUR LOVE 'I never planned to marry a man I barely knew, but that was before Andrea Peters walked into my life and turned everything upside down.' LOLA ERIKSON'S POV I sat down on a car bonnet in the workshop, looking at a man who had just driven in with his daughter. She was a beautiful chocolate skinned young girl jumping around and asking her father questions on some things she saw in the workshop. I stared at them and wondered how I was when I was her age. Was I timid? Or maybe I was more vibrant than she was. I couldn't help smiling as I tried to imagine my younger self in different scenarios.

If talking to other men, you must be 5 feet apart, and if talking is required, I will be with you. 6. No one can touch you, even with the tip of your finger. 7. No one should know about this. .. After reading Alex’s rules, I let it go and keept it to one of drawer on my vanity table before I lay down on the bed. I felt weak and soft after reading them. Just the number-one rule gave me a headache. What did he think of me? Does he think that I have many reservation people like him? On the other hand, I don’t see anything in which I can disobey the rules he likes. I don’t have any friends; no one wants to talk to me at school, except for rule number three. What does he mean by that?

"And last but not the least. The number one rule, you are not allowed to touch me or get close to me. I have my one-meter rule." My shoulders slumped in defeat at his last statement. How dramatic could he be? A one-meter rule? What was this, some kind of ridiculous personal space bubble? "What if I need to whisper something to you?" I asked, unable to resist the sarcastic jab. "You can write it on paper," he replied simply, as if it were the most logical and reasonable solution in the world. "What if I need to hand you something?" "Leave it, and I'll take it." "What if--"

It was now quite obvious that he was about to say something crappy. “Let’s set some rules for both of us.” He started, “The five feet rule: all those mutts stay five feet away at all times.” Good lord! “So, I should keep my distance around guys outside of this pack? Five feet?! Does that make sense to you?” “No, they all count, my pack, everyone. Lucas is no exception either.” I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose, sighing, “And I guess my dad counts as well?”

"You're welcome. You felt like a pink person. You're happy even with a scraped knee. Now, don't change the subject. Give me one good rule." His kid-like happiness over my living situation makes me laugh. "Okay. Okay. Let me get these inside first." I unlock my door and dump my bag on the kitchen counter. There isn't room for a dining room table in the tiny space, but I do have two tall pine stools tucked under the breakfast bar area. Finn follows my movements but makes sure the fruit stops before any roll off the side. "Okay, so Rule 2 is no playing music past nine at night." I've delayed as long as I can, but I want to start him off small. I hope the fallout of this conversation won't be me

“Then I set a rule.” The moment I said it. The space reacted. Not violently. Not instantly. But noticeably. The lines slowed. Focused. Like they were waiting. For definition. I exhaled slowly. Because this. This mattered. This wasn’t just movement. This was foundation. “First rule,” I said quietly. “No forced control.” The words echoed. Not outward. Inward. Through the space itself. The lines pulsed once. Soft. Then. They changed. Not tightening. Not locking.

Who knows, my luck could just turn around all of a sudden, and I could get lucky. 'HOUSE RULES' I write boldly at the top of the paper and draw a line underneath. I hear him snicker, but he does not say anything about it. "First rule, you can't be shirtless, especially in shared places," I say, and he smirks with a head shake. He is quiet as if he had agreed, and since I did not get any refusal from him, I scribble it down and go on to the next. "No morning noise, at least before 9 am," I say, and because he is just sitting there quietly as I recite all of the rules before scribbling them down. I tear out the page and hand it over to him.