Middlemarch Mga Nobela at Kwento

And I… unfortunately… understood loneliness better than most. I made my way to the library with a copy of a worn-out copy of The Garden of Ashes. Hugo had let me borrow it after I had returned Wuthering Heights. “Thank you for coming, dear. I hoped I didn’t interrupt your afternoon,” Hugo said warmly. “Nope.” I popped the p. ***

Okay, let me explain, I said to her. When I was coming to work this morning, waiting for the bus, Endrick saw me and he persuaded me to give me a ride to the company but I declined. You what! She exclaimed. You mean you declined the request of Endrick to give you a lift to the company. 'Wow’, she added. Mary, don't you know almost all the female workers working in this particular company always wish for such an opportunity, even only once, but you declined. See Sandra, you can't understand. I said. Okay Mary what's there that I can't understand, she queried.

“Right. Of course. God forbid you just… go home like a normal person.” I turned to look at her fully. “Normal isn’t exactly our brand, Amelia.” Her eyes locked on the window again. “You can say that again.” The drive stretched on with nothing but the hum of tires on asphalt and Patrick’s occasional lane change. By the time we turned through the wrought-iron gates of the Steele estate, the air inside the car felt like a pressure chamber. The place looked exactly as I remembered: sprawling lawns, the main house sitting like a silent sentinel under the late-afternoon sun. Except for one thing—it was too quiet.

Iris It’s late, and I’m still up reading. The crickets are chirping outside, the room illuminated only by the faint glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Miles is fast asleep beside me, curled up beneath the covers. I started reading the book from the beginning, since I forgot most of the plot. I forgot how funny and romantic it is—it’s a love story about a farmer hiring a nanny after his wife passes away, and the two of them slowly fall in love. It’s sweet, meaningful, and makes me laugh on more than one occasion.

He brushed past me so hard that my shoulder jerked backward, and then he was gone — storming out of the living room, his footsteps heavy on the marble floor until the sound of them faded completely down the hall. I stood there for a moment, blinking hard. Once. Twice. Refusing to let the tears spill over. This was how it had been for ten months. Ten months since the night that changed everything. Ten months since I became Mrs. Adrian Cole. Ten months of learning, slowly and painfully, what it meant to live inside a marriage built entirely on obligation and contempt. I ran my fingers through my hair and lowered myself carefully onto the nearest chair because my knees had started to ache like

"Preston, it's New Year's. Do you have to make us angry? Look at what this house has turned into because of you!" "Come on, Preston. Just endure it. Peace is better than conflict. Mom and Dad are old. Don't stress them out," Sophie's younger sister, Olivia Turner, chided in. My two nephews saw Olivia speaking and immediately joined in. "You're a bad uncle!" Amelia Caldwell, the youngest in the family, wasn't as polite. She walked up and shoved me. "Ever since you came back, this house hasn't had a moment of peace. Maybe you should think about why that is. Julius would never act like such a shrew!"

Not until the ink of this moment dried on whatever ledger the Devil kept. The walk to the Chapel Square felt longer than it ever had. Villagers filled the narrow dirt paths, all moving in the same direction, dressed in muted tones. The air was colder here, sinking into skin like damp fingers. Frost clung to the eaves of roofs and the grass lining the road. Each breath Adelaide drew burned a little, misting white in front of her like pieces of her spirit escaping one exhale at a time. Whispers followed them. “That’s Mara’s eldest…”

" I shrugged his hand off. "Bobby!" Cynthia rushed forward and kicked me. "What right do you have to hit someone? When you have no argument, you just start making a scene—how crude!" My mother-in-law hurried to help Bobby up from the ground, glaring at me as she cursed, "Do you even want to stay married to Cynthia or not? If you don't, then get lost! Our family doesn't need a petty, abusive man like you!" Bobby lowered his head, pressing his lips together.

CHAPTER 2 —MAGGIE ELIZABETH SMITH— As we make our way to Anderson's mansion in Tagaytay, I gaze out the window, lost in thought. I'm replaying our earlier conversation in my mind. It used to be easy for me to accept the idea that we'd eventually part ways, but now it's different. The thought hurts. Are my efforts to win his heart still not enough? "Hey, Maggie," he called out, and I turned to face him.

By the time Grace arrived at the Bellavance estate, it was half past five, and the sun hadn’t yet dipped below the horizon. She followed the path leading in. On both sides of the front garden stood rows of large plane trees, their leaves casting dappled shadows and softening the afternoon light. Along the neatly trimmed lawns, lavender bushes lined the edges—not quite in full bloom yet, but fragrant all the same. The driveway gently curved past the lawn and ended at a white marble fountain. Beyond that stood the three-story French manor, classic and grand. This was old-money wealth—quiet, tasteful, steeped in tradition.