Question Behind The Question Mga Nobela at Kwento

he asked me back. I looked at him with a blank face. I could see how imaginary fireflies fly above my head, a metaphorical representation of my confusion. As what my confused and curious self would do, I asked him one question again, “If this van is the mayor’s private vehicle, then what is this thing doing here? And why are you driving it? Are you the mayor’s personal driver? Or are you anything related to him?” Although he did not really have to answer my question if he did not want to, he still gave me the answer he thought I deserved to get from him. And as it turned out, it was the most unexpected thing, the most unexpected revelation, I ever heard on this day.

Minghao gaped as soon as he heard him. ‘I’m a man to her?’ Minghao asked this repeatedly in himself. There are seven reasons why people ask questions. First, they just wanted to know the answer. Second, they are testing the person they are asking. Third, they accused the person. Fourth, to impose a delay. Fifth, to express disagreement. Sixth, to exert power. And seventh, to make a statement. But when Eugene asked him the question, Minghao wasn’t sure about his intention for asking; it was as if he’s asking for Minghao to know the answer that he, himself, isn’t aware of.

It belonged to people who kept asking the same question until the answer had nowhere left to hide. And somewhere in the quiet hum of the city, the bond rested—not triumphant. Certain.

Instead, I whispered back, “Then why was it there?” A long pause. Then: Because they wanted to see what you’d do. Who are you? I thought it, but my lips didn’t move. The voice replied anyway. “Wrong question.” What’s the right one? Another pause. Then: “What have you already done?” The lights flickered—briefly—and in that stuttering flash, I saw something scratched into the back wall of the room. I hadn’t noticed it before. It hadn’t been there before. Four words:

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: THE SHAPE WE DON’T FORCE Lena's Pov The question came from someone who didn’t know me well enough to be careful. “So… where is this all going?” It was asked lightly, over coffee, the kind of curiosity people dressed up as interest when they wanted a neat answer. I didn’t take offense. I’d asked myself the same thing once only with more urgency, more fear. I stirred my drink slowly, watching the surface settle before I answered.

Nick said in a way that sounded more like a question. "Go on, boy, " Ruby nodded. "When you died, did you go to heaven? How is heaven like? Is it lovely? What of hell? Ugly and hot as ever, right?" Nick asked many questions which made him look very cute. "Oh, Nick! How inquisitive of you! Ok, I can't answer all your questions. I am neither in heaven nor hell for now. I still have a quest to complete before I rest in the bosom of the Lord. I need to save a lot of people from evil hands. But for now, I can't disclose everything to you." Ruby tried explaining-but with the way things were, nick looked totally confused.

She asks a weird question which knocks the breath out of me for an unknown reason. “ Why are you asking this? ” I breath, my eyes fixed at Amanda. “ Do you think it can be used against you? ” She asks another weird question instead of answering me. I open my mouth and close it repeatedly, not knowing how to answer this. “ Love is…just love Miracle. ” She answers her own question and then she disappears, leaving me with the confusion which might not leave me until I get the answer to ‘ Why the hell did she ask me this question in the first place? ’

she said quietly, “then maybe the real question isn’t why it answered me.” The studio lights reflected sharply across the dark glass walls surrounding the room. “Maybe the question is what it’s trying to expose.”

“Don’t you want to know my motive? What ties your father and I together? There are many things you can get the answer to my wild cat. You just have to be willing to ask the question.” “Why are you allowing me only three questions then?” I whined. Oh goodness, I fucking whined like a child, but I couldn’t help it. “If you had the opportunity to ask endless questions, how would you know which questions are most important? Hmm?” I never considered that. “This is a reward and consequence type of game, right? I answer correctly, you flog me. I don’t and you spank me? Where is the reward in that?” I frowned up at him.

He stiffens; it's clear my question has ruined the mood. "Why won't you get on birth control?" He returns the question. Ah…so this is how he wants to play it?