Novelas y relatos de Nocht

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I say simply and go back to scrolling through my Instagram feed on my iPhone 8. I glance up just in time to see his impassive look morph into one of confusion. "What do you mean 'no'?" He mutters, his look and tone impassive once again. "Mr. Trevelyan, I'm sure you're not dumb. The word 'no' can be defined as an act or instance of denying or refusing. It is a negative vote or decision. What don't you understand, Sir?" I blink up at him with an innocent smile playing on my lips.

All that remained was the launch coordination meeting scheduled for Friday—the exact moment our two-week agreement ended. I spent Thursday evening in my apartment doing absolutely nothing productive, which is how I knew I was in actual distress. I'm not a person who does "absolutely nothing." I have systems. Routines. Productivity frameworks. Thursday night I had chaos and anxiety and the specific knowledge that something fundamental was about to change. By Friday morning, I couldn't quite eat breakfast. The launch coordination meeting was scheduled for 2 PM. Westbrook executives, our team, final details before the Monday market launch.

Was about to reply, when another text popped up. Unknown number 💬: Need me to remind your little ex why he never should’ve messed with my ice-tongued princess?

Why is it so far away that I even failed to notice it? "Uh, okay." I sat properly and pointed to an eggplant thingy on my side. "How about this one on my right side? Do I need to use this, too?" He laughed. "That's a shifter or a drive stick." "Yeah, yeah. Eggplant or whatever that is." "Pfft, no. You don't have to use that." He chuckled and pointed at the pedals. "Do you know which pedal to step on?" "Nope. I don't have any idea."

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ Note : updates might be slow. \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

The truth sat heavily on my tongue, awkward and inconvenient and suddenly very real. I glanced at the message once more, just to be certain it hadn’t changed its mind. It had not. “My hotel cancelled,” I said finally, forcing the words out with what I hoped passed for composure. “Apparently, snowstorms are unforeseen circumstances.” Julien frowned immediately, the kind of frown that came from concern rather than confusion. “Do you have another place lined up?” I let out a laugh before I could stop myself. It came out thinner than intended, brittle around the edges. “Not unless the streetlights are taking guests.”

“No, Alpha. I was pulled away earlier for a weird disturbance outside in the back.” “What kind of disturbance?” “Just some stupid kids egging the back door and the camera.” There was a pit of dread forming in my stomach. “Call Beta Sophia, please. She’s expecting me.” The guard shrugged, and his eyes lost focus for a few seconds, trying to mind-link her. The guard frowned. “I can’t seem to reach her. It’s either that she’s blocked or too far away.” “Can you call her apartment?” I offered. The guard picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. We waited for Sophia to answer the apartment’s comm, but after a few minutes, the guard hung up in frustration.

Tessa kept refreshing my results page, muttering to herself the whole time. "No way. This must be a system glitch!" The principal and a few reporters came over, staring straight at my score screen. My score was blank. Below it was a line in bold: "Total score: You are ranked in the top 50. Please check back on the 27th for more details." Everyone in the room was stunned. Even the comments section froze for several seconds before it exploded again.

Jasmine threatened and turned off the phone. Brave looked at the dark phone screen and wanted to scream loudly: "Okay, I quit, I won't do it anymore." Unfortunately, that was just his heart of words. In fact, his expression was as gloomy as a family, thinking to himself: "Life is so boring.” He did not know that his misfortune had just begun. His wife - Bright in a pink apron, with a cute bear print on her chest, holding the long big chopsticks, angry bullet-shaped eyes looking at him questioningly.