Rowley Diary Novels & Stories

She would just have to make do with vamscren so she could get a good meal. As she climbed down the stairs to enter the kitchen, she thought about this new diary she had found. She noticed that Marylin didn’t write the same way she did in the former one. In this diary, she talked more about herself like she was telling a story, and Joana couldn’t help but relate to every single thing she had been through. She didn’t want to rush her reading by skipping to the final pages to see what happened, but something told her that Marylin probably didn’t have a happy ending with John like she’d always thought.

"Clark, what's the matter?" "I have no comments about you and Esther getting divorced, and I won't stop you because it's your life," Clark said. He held a brown envelope, bringing over the diary that Esther had written about her secret crush during her youth from the manor's attic. After listening to the contents of the pen recorder and witnessing Bradley's indulgence toward Liliane, he recalled the diary.

I pulled it out and found photographs, trinkets, and a diary. The diary felt intimate. Personal. I hesitated, then opened it. March 3: We went to the riverside today. I’ve never laughed so much. He brings me joy in ways I didn’t expect. March 10: William is too protective sometimes. But I know he loves me. I just wish he’d understand that I’m growing up. March 15: I’m seeing someone. It’s early, but I think it’s something special. I flipped through more pages. There were no dark hints. No fear. Just a young woman in love with life.

Every flickering torch made me jump, my hand tightening on the hilt of my knife. When we reached the archives, the heavy oak doors were hanging wide open. One of the hinges was bent, the wood splintered as if someone had kicked it in with the force of a truck. "Rowan!" I shouted, rushing inside. The room was a wreck. Books were scattered across the floor, their pages ripped and charred. The heavy oak table was overturned, and the candle was nothing but a puddle of melted wax on the stones. Rowan was slumped against the far wall, his face covered in blood. He was clutching an old, leather-bound journal to his chest like it was a lifeline.

Here I am with my diary wondering how I got myself into this sticky situation. While we were preparing to round up our honeymoon, a message that made me stand at Raymond and Mia's door popped up on my phone and I found myself dressed for that evening's event. **** "Hi poppy, come in...." Raymond Opened the door. I looked around but didn't see the person who had invited me for a movie night. Confused, I looked at Raymond whose gaze was directly on my boobs....

’ “B He nodded, looking unconvin That night, he spotted something else. Serena never left her diary unattended. Not once. It stayed in her bag. Her nightstand. Her drawer. Always locked. Always close. When he touched it once, she snapped. “Don His eyes flew to her face and the “It’s private He raised his hands calmly. “Okay.” But suspicion bloomed. sunk One night, Serena went to bed before him. Rare. "Her breathing grew deeper." The room was dimly lit. His gaze wandered over to her bedside table. There it was. The diary. Unlocked His heart thudded. He hesitated. Then slowly reached. He opened it carefully. Pages full of dates, notes, and names. Business Flights Contacts. Then— A name had sto

It had been sitting untouched at the bottom of my bag, buried beneath old notebooks and pieces of paper and empty pens. I pulled it out carefully, brushing the imaginary dust off the cover like it was something fragile. When I flipped through the pages, memories rose with each turn. Quick sketches of the campus courtyard. A messy charcoal outline of Rowan mid-laugh from the day he first noticed me on the bleachers. A half-finished portrait of Ellis from when I’d just started noticing how quiet strength looked on someone. A ridiculous doodle of Noah pretending to flex dramatically when he’d claimed he could “definitely win a fight against a goose.”

“Or Rowan starts thinking you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” Mary’s fingers tremble once as she takes the pen. Good. For the first time in her life, she is afraid of the man she worships. She writes. Neat lines. Careful curves. No wasted ink. When she’s done, Melody holds the paper up, reads it once, expression flat. Then she melts wax onto the fold and presses a seal. Not the royal seal. Mary’s seal, her old family stamp from Ridgepoint, the one she still carries because she thinks her history is a weapon.

Emma lifted the lid and the smell of old paper rose out of it, faint and floral, decades folding into a single breath. Photographs filled the top layer, black and white, labeled in Audrey's steady hand. Eleanor and Ruth, young, laughing in front of buildings that no longer stood, arms linked the way sisters link arms when they've never once doubted each other. "I've never seen either of them look this happy," Emma said. Beneath the photographs: pressed flowers, dry and paper-thin, and under those, a slim journal in Eleanor's looping hand. "Her diary," Ethan said, reading the first page over her shoulder. "Before any of it. Before Thomas disappeared."

The diary where she chronicled all her feelings to Thyago way back in her teenage days, the diary where it all began. "Don't get me wrong but I got curious so I check it. I remember I once saw him smiling while reading that same notebook way back in his college days if I was not mistaken. I wonder what's in that notebook because he kept that until now. He had been keeping that for a long time maybe because it was so important to him. I'm sorry child but I got curious and read it. That's the diary Elena has been talking about and that's yours right?" Stunned and a bit embarrassed, she just looked at her mother-in-law and don't know what to say.