Remake Our Life Novels & Stories

The moment I was blasted awake by nonstop phone calls, I knew I had been reborn. I smashed my phone into pieces without hesitation. In my previous life, Elijah Cook had courted disaster. He secretly embedded pirated software bought online into the security program. The security system collapsed under a virus attack, and the cryobank began to warm. He cried and begged me to save him. I knew that the cryobank had just received the last vial of sperm from a powerful heir who had become infertile. It was his final chance to have a bloodline

"I have no idea. Jobs? Hobbies? N*****x?" "Sounds boring." "Sounds safe." "Yeah." Adrian rolled toward me, finding my hand in the darkness. "We'll figure it out. Together." "David and Sarah Mitchell." "Or whoever we want to be." I thought about that possibility. We could be anyone now. Create ourselves from nothing. No past. No expectations. No legacy to uphold. Just two people in a small house in Portland, starting over. "I think I can live with that," I said. "Yeah?"

Live a fulfilling life for the both of us. Live. Every second we’re alive, we have the chance to recreate ourselves. From the second our eyes open and witness the sun radiating above us, we’re given a new opportunity to live the life we want to, to become the person we wish to be. We can shed off our old skin and become shells of our former selves. It’ll be hard. But you’re strong. Kill the part of yourself that you despise. Let the part of you that wants to thrive be born.

There is no coulda woulda shoulda with us, no regrets. So you invading our lives just made us make more memories. We tried things we had wanted to try. We upped the anti and lived harder than ever! Yes, you stayed on the periphery of our vision; that tends to be your way. You like to keep all of those touched by you, fearful of your return. It is your calling card, isn't it, your modus operandi. You like us never to forget your visit. But every single day, we got up and lived.

“You come home. We rebuild. Together.” Lena turned, emotion breaking through her mask. “You still want me in your life? After everything?” Alma reached for her hand. “I never stopped.” Roman started the engine. Petra chuckled. “So, what now? Do we pretend we’re just normal people again?” Roman smirked. “Not likely. But maybe we take a break before the next apocalypse.” Alma leaned back, watching Prague fade behind them. Her family, broken, twisted, and reformed, sat around her.

I simply uttered. I didn't notice that the time passed already, the director immediately called everyone to start the scene one more time. My makeup artist retouched my makeup first before we continued. And from that moment on, I made sure I delivered my lines perfectly like I usually do. I made my scenes flawlessly that day. After almost a month, I bought a condominium somewhere within the city. I thought about it and I guess it's not safe for me to stay with my mom for a long time. She receives multiple phone calls from Damian and his mother asking where I am.

Tomorrow, Emma arrives. Tomorrow, our forever begins. But tonight, we remember. How we started. What we survived. What we built. Two people in a hotel bar. One conversation. One choice. That became this. This life. This love. This family. One more night. Then forever. We’re ready. Almost ready. Ready enough. Together.

Every month on the 15th is the day I swap lives with Melody Foster. 18 years ago, a hospital mix-up places our IVF embryos in each other's mothers. After the truth comes out, my biological parents want their real daughter, and my adoptive parents want theirs. They arrange for Melody and me to rotate between the two homes on a monthly basis, switching every 15th. From then on, I become the burden neither family wants. In whichever home Melody stays, there are endless snacks and drinks, thousands of dollars in monthly allowance, and the sunny bedroom is always reserved for her. In whichever home I stay, there's nothing but plain meals and a windowless storage room. 18 years later, I

“Don’t make it the same thing. We are not the same.” “In the spirit of not being the same,” I continued, clasping my hands behind me, “don’t mess up my life like you’ve messed up yours. Don’t mess up my love like you’ve messed up yours.”

… At three in the morning, I was crumpled on the floor of the abandoned warehouse, my fingers bent and twisted into horrifying angles, when several of my men came rushing in with medical equipment. As the building went up in a blaze of flames behind me, I leaned back in my seat and called my contact. "Have the boat waiting at the harbor, and give me a new identity. I want the name Sebastian Chance to thoroughly disappear from this world."