Novel & Cerita My Humble Abode

he beseech "Hummm. I know, is it not you? asking all the time i should change the house help whenever they did a little thing or mistakes. Toh let me tell you am not changing any of them this time. You can get your own apartment. Am tired of changing the maids all the time. Haba Mana dan Allah" mummy said walking out of him to the dinning table. She's fed up with Ibrahim's hot temper. Ibrahim was about to walk out before mummy stopped him "Where are you going? Aren't you eating your breakfast?" Mummy asked

'EHEM' Abby deliberately cleared her throat first as soon as she reached the entrance of the old mansion. Then after that, she knocked softly against its wooden door to announce her presence. "Excuse me, is there anybody home? I wish to return something from a guy named Eugene and it was said in his ID card that this was his residence." Abby waited for someone to answer her back but she did not get any response from anyone inside. So thinking that maybe she got the wrong address, she decided to leave.

I pushed him out of my way and rushed in, I twirled as I stared around in admiration -the leather chairs and cushions, gigantic chandelier light, the figurines and paintings hanging on the walls -it's as if I just stepped into a paradise. Is this guy just being modest? Or he doesn't know the meaning of the word 'humble'? The living room is small but it's still bigger than our whole house, it's just portable and exactly my dream house. "You call this humble abode?" I asked with a raised brow. "Yeah" he answered and threw his keys on the table. "I'll be staying here temporarily, until my internship is over" "Oh" "Have a seat" he gestured at a chair. "I'll get you something to drink, what do yo

Adam chuckled softly at Ayana's remark, the sound echoing gently through the spacious room. "Well, I suppose 'humble' might not be the most accurate description," he admitted with a wry smile. "But it's home." Ayana couldn't help but smile at his response, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort settle over her as she gazed around the room. Despite the opulence that surrounded them, there was an air of coziness and familiarity that made Adam's house feel welcoming and inviting.

That definitely wouldn’t end well. We hadn’t even stopped but I was already gaping at the beautiful house in front of us. It wasn’t too big but you could tell it was expensive. “Welcome to our humble abode,” He said gesturing to the house. “It’s beautiful,” I said dreamily, staring in awe at the finely cut edges and painting. “Yea, yea,” he said shrugging. I smacked him again, gaining myself a chuckle and an ouch from him. “This ain’t humble,” I stated matter of fact.

♥Amyla Robert♥ I am called Amyla Robert. And this is my story. Some years back when I was 6yrs old, I became miserable. That is, I was Sullen, gloomy, sad, gloomy. And depressed All these started because of the environment I grew up in... My Dad would always bite my Mom up and give her bruises everywhere They never really had time for me...as they lived their life with no shame I never really had friends either because my parents would always live me at home with my Nany...Miss Jane

The quiet in Charles Thorne's stately guest chamber is made worse by the faint buzz of the city below. The room is spotless, so clean that it seems like a hospital. The sheets are too silky and the bed is too comfy. It feels like I'm lying on a cloud, yet it doesn't help the pain in my chest at all.

What about you? Abby: I’m great, thanks! Abby: Get dressed and wear something nice. I’m coming to pick you up in half an hour. Me: Uh… why? Abby: I feel like tequila and dancing. So, I’m taking you out! Abby: Plus, you need to be social. It’s not healthy to stay home all the time. Me: Okay, okay! I’ll go out. Abby: Yay! See you soon. I shoved my phone into my pocket as I walked inside. My home was modern and comfortable, with large windows that allowed natural light to flood the rooms. Clean lines, neutral colors, and stylish furniture gave the house an elegant feel while still making it feel warm and welcoming.

"Ah, Bàbá ọmọ Adéyẹmí ní mi sir. A ní ìsinmi ní ilé ìwé l'aṣè wà." "Ò dà, ẹ o ṣ'aṣèyọ̀ri." The old man prayed for us. "Amin," we said and bid the old man farewell. We continued walking till we got to a beautiful, modest house, quite different from the mud houses around. The bungalow sat at the end of a long, weed-choked driveway. Becca stepped onto the tiled floor, her footsteps leaving clear prints of the mud. It was a beautiful house—large windows, heavy royal-blue brocade curtains, and a well equipped kitchen—but it felt weird.

They couldn't believe the daughter they were so proud of would do something so… filthy and immoral. George was shaking in rage. He stepped ahead, trying to confront Zack, but he shoved George into the shoe cabinet. "Ms. Sampson's villa doesn't let homeless people in. I can't believe you're her father-in-law. Look at you. Even a homeless guy wears better than you." Zack scoffed. Mockery was oozing from his tone. George was groaning in pain, and color was draining from his face. I held him and called the maid to help us out. This was an emergency.