Never Never A Novel Novels & Stories

Cinderella Farmington P.O.V Spring 1821 The kingdom of Nevera I guess am starting the whole introduction with my name. My father loved fairytales as do I. He and my mother always admired the story of Cinderella. How she was able to overcome the trials and then found her prince charming. My mother always told me that Cinderella was her inspiration. Yeah am using the word WAS because she's gone now, they're both gone now leaving me with nothing but my name,"Cinderella" but I would prefer to be called Cindy.

Every moment is this. Without moment. This. The light that is. The love that is. The being that is. The this that is. Only this. The book never opened. Because there was no cover. The book never closed. Because there was no ending. The book was the opening. The book was the reading. The book was the read. All one. Without one. This. The final chapter is not final. There was no first. There was no sequence. Only this. Appearing as sequence.

His cane tapped softly against the marble. He stopped only a few feet away, his eyes searched my face, then my hands, then my feet, "What is this called?" My lips felt dry, "The Four Lives I Never Chose." He waited. I looked across the gardens, "The first girl grows up afraid of her own home. The second mistakes a cage for love," I swallowed, "The third finally finds someone worth loving... and never gets to keep him. And the last girl loses the only person who ever made her feel safe."

The sky was overcast with patches of drizzle as the waters of the river crumpled under the rain. The Arizona city eerily resembled the city of Seattle, where snow and rain were plentiful and the atmosphere was often quite humid. Carlos told me. “Natália, you said you love André.” “Yes, I love André, so his pursuit is quite uncomfortable.” So he ordered me. “Shut up, Natalia.”

And I realized I liked that gaze very much—and the person behind it even more. I started the car again. In the rearview mirror, Samantha finally picked up the shredded ticket and limped away into the street corner. Snow began to fall. Celine turned on the heater, and soft Christmas music played through the car speakers. I pressed the accelerator, watching her face glow gently in the snowlight, and suddenly understood—true rebirth is not revenge, but learning how to plant flowers in the ruins. This time, I could finally say it without hesitation. Goodbye. And never again.

It was not until then that she realized the scenery around them did not look anything like the route to the shopping mall. It was desolate and isolated. There were the flickering lights of several unfinished buildings in the distance. It was the very area Shawn had told me was devastated by the fire when he faked his own death—the southern district of the city. Jenna’s eyes went wide in shock. Her voice trembled as she asked, “Shawn, isn’t this the place where the fire happened? Why are we here? You said we were going shopping…” Before she could finish, Shawn’s hands gripped her neck.

ARA stands for Arabella. Elle had saved up enough cash to move into a better apartment by the time Sophie turned two. The apartment has one window overlooking the skyline and also has functional heating. Sophie had her own room. And Elle, too? She was free. She grew stronger with each client email, sale, and completed piece of code. Roman's money wasn't necessary for her. His last name wasn't necessary. Not even retaliation was necessary. Sophie was all she needed. However, she noticed something that made her hands freeze when she opened her laptop one chilly morning.

Finally, I added, "Don't contact me again. You were pretty quick to block me before, so don't get clingy now." After a brief silence, I said, "It's annoying." ... I didn't know if it was because of retirement or the tropical air, but my parents looked healthier and happier than they had in years. If it weren't for the need to go back and finalize the property transfer during the New Year, they probably wouldn't have returned at all. "I can handle it myself," I said while reviewing some paperwork. "You don't have to worry." My parents exchanged a glance. "Forget it. We don't feel at ease letting you go alone. Besides, the Holland family invited us to a small New Year's gathering. We'll head b

Five-hundred pages of filth turned into a weapon. The perfect Poetic justice for chasing me through the city like a deranged bloodhound. My heart hammered so hard I almost laughed. Wasn’t this the part where heroines in books pulled some badass move? Yeah, well—I was no mafia queen. I was Nova, whose emergency plan consisted of “call 911 and maybe throw stationery.” “Why are you following me?!” Her lips curled. “Why do you think?” The way she said it made my stomach flip. If only she knew how chaotic and filthy my thought process was. I’m sure she wouldn’t have asked what I was thinking at any given time.

Neva had sent the message from a different phone. That was the first thing Corinna noticed. Different number, same unmistakable cadence. Her mother wrote texts the way she said everything else. No contractions. No softening. Just the precise minimum required to convey the information. I have it. Three words that meant Neva had known exactly what she was carrying for four years and had said nothing. Three words that meant the man who answered her phone either didn't know she had already moved the document — or had let her send the message deliberately.