Not My Forte Novels & Stories

Ame prodded as she smiled sweetly at him. He seemed to stall. "Shall we dance?" he asked. Nat King Cole's song, 'Unforgettable' droned on in the background, making the softly-lit dance floor irresistibly inviting but Ame hardened her heart to its call, though Nat King Cole was one of their favourites. There was something uneasy about Philip which Ame couldn't put a name to. So, she declined. But he persisted.

This should mean I was given away, so I want to find my parents, just to know why they did that to me. I grew up as an introverted person. I never go out with friends or clubs at all. I could hardly share my problems with anyone, I didn't see any special person to talk about my problem with. But I got into fights most of the time because of my temper, and I have amazing strength. Perhaps my strength is what God gave me in compensation to what my parents did to me.

"God, no. Arthur can't even cook toast, Victor would die of boredom learning an instrument, and I barely know a thing about how those fancy cameras work.” "Then I guess together you make one well-rounded individual," I teased. He laughed. "That's one way to look at it. Ah, what about you? Any special skills?" I shrugged. "Nope. I'm completely ordinary. I do okay at a lot of things, but there's nothing I'm really great at."

How should I start writing. "Hey Diary, Here comes another day of my so-called Regular Boring College Life. Or I shouldn't say it boring as it was full of nonsense. All the people I know here, are shitty. But, all this nonsense can't help me forget about my Unknown Hero. How can I forget him? He has something super natural in him.

Maybe I was just overthinking it. However as cynical, I was about him, I just couldn't bring myself to question him, or hurt his feelings. I felt that the questions I had would hit a rather sensitive spot, that might cause him to further avoid being honest. I didn't know how I knew that, but I trusted my instincts, I decided to remain patient for the time being, being hasty never solved things faster I felt. But what I didn't like was the fact that despite knowing all this I couldn't help but be fascinated by this strange persona of his. He then said something unexpected after that,

That’s not a location that screams love and romance to me. I also know this bastard, and he doesn’t have the capacity to think of anyone but himself. The problem is he talks a good game. He has that suave countenance that lures people in and makes them think he shits rainbows and puppies or some fucked up bullshit. I don’t know. I never once fell under his spell, and I don’t honestly know what made me so different from them. I could have been the drugs, as I never touched them, or perhaps they just needed someone to tell them their fucked up ideas were A ok to him.

Fort had spent his entire life being brave for everyone else. But nobody ever told him he was allowed to be afraid too. Nobody ever told him he did not have to carry everything alone. I stepped closer. “You don’t have to be strong every second with me.” His jaw tightened slightly. Not because he disagreed. Because those words were difficult for him to accept. “I don’t know how to do that.” The honesty surprised me. Because Fort admitting something was difficult was rare. I smiled gently. “Then learn.” He looked at me. “With you?”

Just before the new school term started, my daughter's parent group chat, which had been quiet for ages, suddenly announced that the first parent-teacher meeting of the semester would be held that night. The rule was: both parents had to attend. A long string of "Got it" followed. I was about to reply when I noticed someone had beaten me to it. A guy with a family photo as his profile picture sent a voice message. "I'm Emma Sullivan's dad. We'll be there!" I froze. I clicked into the member list and checked repeatedly. My daughter's name was Emma Sullivan. He said he was Emma's dad. Then who the hell was I? I immediately called my wife. Before I could say a word, I heard her cheerful v

It was probably because work had consumed my entire life these past few weeks, but standing across from Sylvie again, talking like this—it felt like something from another lifetime. "Your face…" she said softly. "I had surgery overseas," I replied, touching the faint ridges on my cheek where the scars still lingered. "Figured it was time I stopped frightening people in public." She looked at me, then hesitated. "But why enter a design competition? I thought acting was your true passion."

A sharp, sudden ache twisted in Maxwell's chest. He leaned back against the chair, a little drunk now. And just like that, he thought of Zoey, the woman who never knew how to give up. She had always been gentle, yet unwavering. Even when they fought—every time—she never raised her voice. She just... bore it. Quietly. He could still see her—from the way she begged in the beginning, to when her composure finally broke and she shattered completely... and then, somehow, pulled herself together, gritting her teeth to keep standing.