No Failure In His Dictionary Novels & Stories

"If somebody was able to come in here, do you know what it means?" I shook my head and he nodded. "It means that I have freaking failed as a leader of this household and I never fail at anything I have made sure since the start of this fraternity that we have never failed instead other people would have to fail on our behalf." He said it with so much confidence that I was beginning to feel sorry for the amount of weight he had placed on himself.

Before he knew it, his eyes began to close and everything went black. Rowena's heart was pounding like crazy. Gary was picking up Hope. Never did she think a situation like it would happen. But as a single mother, she was desperate. She didn't believe in God, yet she prayed so hard that nothing serious would happen. Every sentence the Vice Principal spoke was agony for her. He talked slow and she hated every bit of it.

As if the words were a foreign language and he needed just one more second to translate them into something that didn’t destroy him. Then understanding landed. It hit too cleanly. Nicoli didn’t even have time to brace for it. “What—” The color drained out of his face so fast it looked as if someone had extinguished him from the inside—snuffed candlelight behind skin. His mouth parted, and for a beat nothing came out. His voice cracked on the single syllable. “No.” “No, he can’t- he-”

A very costly one, but it meant he’d tried and was pissed that he was going to have to tell me he failed. I folded my arms on the desk, instinctively knotting my fingers to keep my hands busy. Something to distract myself while Tikhon tapped his feet because—to stress the point—I didn’t accept failures. “You didn’t meet with him?” “As a matter of fact, I did.” he said sharply and gave me a look, asking if I suddenly doubted his capabilities.

If I fail, the family fails. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face. Just get through tonight. Just get through tonight. The mantra repeated like a drumbeat in his mind. Even humor briefly flickered—he remembered tripping over the dog yesterday, ending up in a heap of laundry. He smiled bitterly. Small failures don’t matter. This one does. The Warehouse Showdown By midnight, Tshepo approached the warehouse. A fine drizzle made the asphalt slick, soaking his shoes and pants. The building loomed like a monolith of fear. He hesitated at the door, heart hammering, then forced himself inside.

His hand trembled over the button, his eyes darting wildly across the battlefield as if expecting bodies to drop at any second. Nothing. No poison. No death. No victory for him. His smirk faltered. “What—?” His voice barely left his throat before he slammed his thumb onto the button again. Click. Nothing. He pressed it again. Click. Still nothing. His breathing turned ragged, frustration creeping onto his face as he furiously jabbed at the button over and over. Click. Click. Click. The same dead silence. No death. No destruction. His backup plan had failed. My heart pounded in my chest, the realization sinking in.

He looked at me like a disappointment that refuses to die quietly. The whip came out so fast I barely had time to breathe. Pain exploded across my skin, sharp and burning, ripping the air from my lungs as I stumbled back. “Failure,” he said coldly. “That is what you are. An absolute failure.” I clenched my teeth to keep from making a sound. I refused to give him that. I refused to let him hear weakness even as my body shook under the force of it. “You embarrass the crown,” he continued calmly, like he was discussing weather. “You embarrass me. And then you stand there and let a human boy release a video of you.”

he said, his eyes glowing red. “I don’t think you have a dictionary. And yes you do care.” I said. He sternly declared, "First of all, I do have tons of dictionaries, and the word 'care' is not in there because I do not care." His voice grew louder as he emphasized the last few words as if to drive home his point. He then pointed to the towering stack of boxes and warned, "Now get to work or I will show you how much I 'care'." “I won’t. Not until you answer my questions.” I stood firmly, my arms crossed in defiance, as I huffed in frustration.

As Stephen’s words echoed through the hall, Yasmine’s golden rose bouquet fell to the ground. The microphones of reporters and influencers seemed to malfunction at that moment. Everyone was silent, as though their fate had been choked, unable to utter a single word. Only Stephen’s cold voice echoed through the entire hall. "Mom, I once promised you that I would work hard to stand at the top and not disappoint your nurturing. Now, I’ve done it!" He stood before me, his gaze deep and intense. The man, who had always been proud and noble, now shed his aura of high status, standing before me as a child seeking his mother’s affection.

The silence stretched, heavy enough to crush me. “Do you know why people fail, Jane?” he asked at last. My fingers tightened around the folder. “Because they don’t follow instructions?” His mouth twitched… not a smile, something sharper. “Exactly. They think rules don’t apply to them. They get comfortable. Then they break.” “I won’t break.” His eyes narrowed, testing me. “We’ll see.” I drew a shaky breath. “And if I do everything right?” “Then you’ll survive.” Survive. Not succeed. Not thrive. Just survive. The word knotted in my chest like a warning.