Making A Comeback Novels & Stories

Coming back home. To be continued...

I paused, taking a slow breath, then smiled faintly, “But let me tell you something; Never again. Never again will I shrink myself to fit into someone else’s world. As a woman, you have your own voice, your own strength. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” The room seemed to sigh collectively, the energy shifting as the applause began. I nodded, giving a small wave of acknowledgment. But it was only the beginning. “I’m here today to officially announce my comeback into the modeling world,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “I’m picking up where I left off, because it’s time. It’s time for me to take back control of my life.” A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. Guess some fan

We were on watch out because we knew that they would definitely make a comeback very soon. Damn bastards. I growled as I kept reading the document. God alone knows that them coming back after years of silence can't be good. Five years with those bastards had taught me lots of things about them. They were smart and cunning as fuck. I could bet that they didn't spend all those years just sipping alcohol and chilling. They were re strategizing. Preparing for a comeback. And damn it's gonna be a huge one. I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration

She turned around and was about to leave, "Shameless!" "Don't leave!" Melanie said while grabbing her wrist, "Who are you calling shameless? Do you think you can make a comeback in Rebirth, Lily? Don't forget that Rebirth is just an unknown company back in Hyderland. Hyderland is not even recognized internationally. So, even if you’re top-notch in Hyderland, you’re just a nobody here!"

Her hair was thick, falling in healthy waves over shoulders that were no longer skeletal. “Oh my goodness.” I muttered, my voice breaking. “I came back. I'm alive. I'm really alive.” I cried out, touching my face everywhere. I couldn't believe this. How is something like this possible? How was I able to come back to this time? “Or did it have anything to do with those people who took me away?” I wondered though I wasn't able to think of the answer no matter how hard I tried. But still, I was alive. "Moon Goddess... thank you," I whispered, my voice cracking. I pressed my palm against the glass, tracing the line of my jaw. "Thank you."

They showered, and while getting ready, they began to converse, recalling past situations and making plans for their future. "From now on, friend, it has to be like this: put yourself first. You must dedicate one day a week to yourself. Leave behind that hermit woman you became. You even only talked to me on the phone. But as I told you, it's time to change those old habits," Paula explained, finishing her makeup.

It’s been a week since Vance crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. A week of apologies that don’t land, gifts that feel transactional, and a man who now watches every word he says like he’s navigating a minefield. He’s tried obsessively to make up for it; flowers, soft tones, careful distance. Too careful. Like if he performs well enough, I’ll forget. I haven’t been home since.

I assumed that marked the conclusion, but after his release, Marcello commenced an unrelenting pursuit—stationing himself outside my workplace and home, showering me with flowers, gifts, and extravagant items. He implored for an opportunity to redeem himself, declaring indifference to my existing marriage and child. He urged me to divorce and reunite with him, vowing to cherish Doris as his own and rectify all past transgressions. He repeatedly evoked our shared joyful memories in attempts to sway me.

And a secret she’d kept hidden for ten years. She adjusted her navy blazer as the elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and then she stepped inside. Her reflection in the mirrored walls stared back at her as she exhaled sharply. Twelve years ago, she came into this building as a young intern. Ten years ago, she left Damien Carrington’s life and never looked back. And now… she was coming back to take down his company. The elevator was quiet as it went up, and she felt her chest tighten. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t regret. It was something stronger. She remembered her daughter’s sleepy face that morning, asking why she was wearing “war clothes” again.