Our Closet Mga Nobela at Kwento

he directed. I walked past him toward the closet door, the keypad flashing green as he tapped in a quick code from a distance. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, letting out a soft "wow" under my breath. It was a massive walk-in wardrobe filled with rows of bespoke suits, leather shoes, and velvet-lined drawers displaying luxury watches. Realizing it was all formal menswear, I turned around to walk back out and ask him where he kept his casual wear. The second I stepped out of the closet, my mind went completely blank.

And for real, I could use a little fuck to let out my building frustration. I open the closet to get some clothes but I'm astonished at what I'm seeing. It's a stylish lineup of tuxedos, suits, and coats. Plain trousers. Tailored shirts. Nothing simple. No denim pants. No leather jackets. No shorts. No joggers. No hoodies. No henleys. Nothing casual. What the fuck am I in this world? A priest or the moon goddess's most modest son? My frustration hit the roof and I'm fucking stranded, standing there and looking at my boring closet. After a few minutes, I take out a long-sleeved shirt with tailored pants.

Currently the entire left side of the closet is Dravon's while the right side is mine. My side is packed with different clothes, jewelries, footwears and bags I didn't even know I needed. Dravon's side is also packed with clothes. He also has a big glass showcase displaying his different watches, ties, cufflinks and rings. Our closet is like all those fancy designer stores, well arranged and filled with expensive items. I keep checking for a suitable dress when my eye catches my joggers pants I usually wear for training with Vincent. The feeling of nostalgia warms in my chest as I remember when I was learning how to hold a sword properly for the first time.

I open the door to the closet room and she walks in with her mouth agape. It hadn't started as a closet, it was a large storage room. I don't need that much storage space so I had it converted to a closet after my parents moved out. The entire back wall is filled with clothes, shoes, purses, hats, and accessories for Kas. The new upholstered bench sits in the middle of the room. I sit down as she walks around touching all the clothes in disbelief. “Everything on this wall is mine?" She asks quietly. “Well, the long dresses are over there, but yes." I point to another wall that has a longer space for dresses and gowns.

Why is he here? It can’t really be over a shirt. I got a small peek into his massive closet, and it’s bigger than my whole bedroom and filled with clothes. “No.” I drop my arms and then fold them over my chest again protectively. “No?” He repeats the word, a smile pulling at his lips.

I dragged myself over to the closet, unsure if I even had suitable attire to wear in this unfamiliar place. Opening the wardrobe, I was greeted by its sheer size, almost as large as the bedroom itself. One side was his, filled with nothing but black and white attire, lacking any vibrant colors. On the other side of the wardrobe, I found an array of evening gowns and formal dresses, stuffed into every available space. Among them were simpler options, more suited for lounging around at home in comfort. On the opposite side, there were sweaters, blouses, jeans, and skirts, offering a more casual selection for everyday wear.

I opened the wide mahogany doors of the closet and the minute my eyes saw what was inside, my hands stilled. The whole thing was filled with brand new clothes that still had tags hanging on them. Dresses, suits, skirts, cute tops, small towels, big towels, socks, scarfs, sweaters, shawls, and literally every thing that can be called a clothing made for girls. I eyes were wide with shock. Taking a moment to swallow the sight, my hands moved the things in the closet around to see if I could find my old clothes there somewhere. I looked from the smallest box to the biggest one, but there was no sign of them. There was no sign of any of my old cloth inside the closet… including the trouser in wh

His voice cracks like a whip, forceful enough to make my chest jolt. I don’t argue again. I can’t. Not with that tone. My feet move before I can think, carrying me toward the door. The moment I slip inside, it clicks shut behind me. Darkness. Silence. Then the smell—fabric, detergent, something faintly musky. The walk-in closet is massive, almost absurdly so. Racks tower above me, endless rows of clothes pressing in. I duck low, disappearing into a sea of sweatpants. Dozens of them. Every shade, every fabric, like someone obsessed over loungewear. It’s ridiculous, hiding in a jungle of sweatpants, but I crouch anyway, pressing myself into the farthest corner, every nerve straining.

Since the closet and the bathroom are connected too, I don't have to get back in my bedroom to get my clothes. I have to praise the guy who made it like that but still, I don't like the way the houses are so close to each other. I got ready and took a pair of white converse to pair with my choice of clothes. My closet consisted of almost everything that a teenage girl would need. My party dresses in one compartment and so on. Since my mom is a fashion designer herself, she always designed most of my clothes. That's why my closet is loaded but shopping once in a while is a must.

“Lunch will be served in 30 minutes. You can clean up or take a break before coming down. If you’ll excuse me.” She left quietly, closing the door behind her. I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. Then I walked over to the closet and opened it. My eyes widened again. The closet was filled with clothes — not just a few outfits, but rows of dresses, tops, pants, and even lingerie, all in my size. They looked expensive, soft fabrics in beautiful colors. Some were casual, others more elegant. I ran my fingers over them, confused.