Seven Days Until Novels & Stories

The knowledge that the emptiness had lasted longer than any previous recovery sat between us without needing speech. “Seven days,” he said. “Yes.” “The courts have taken more time after the third climb than after either of the first two. We treat that as preparation, not absence. We use the seven days the same way we used the twelve. We do not chase an answer into the lower forests. We do not let the longer silence become a story about safety.” “I understand.”

Now, standing on the Millennium Bridge, I spread my arms and let the wind slip through my fingers. Sunlight warms my skin beneath the clear blue sky. I'm glad I chose myself. One bad chapter doesn't have to ruin the whole story. Sometimes, something better is waiting just around the corner. "Hi, I didn't get a chance to ask at the airport. What's your name?" I turn around. A familiar pair of beautiful blue eyes meets mine. "It's you." He's wearing a plaid shirt. He gives me a slight nod and a warm smile. "Julian Reed."

My husband, Harrison Knight, was a workaholic. When stomach pain landed me in the hospital, he had his assistant send me medication. When my mother underwent surgery, he was abroad negotiating an acquisition. In seven years of marriage, he'd missed three of my birthdays and five of our anniversaries. He always said, "The company's still getting off the ground. I can't afford to slow down." I understood. Years ago, his first love, Celeste Foster, had left him because he was poor. Afterward, he'd sworn he would make something of himself. He went on business trips, had late nights, and worked himself to the bone. For seven years, Harrison had pushed himself relentlessly, going from a pen

My wedding to my fiancée, Helen Howell, was only a week away. I finished my business trip a day early and decided to surprise her. The moment I opened the door to our new place, I heard the shower running. A second later, Helen's longtime best friend, Martin Miller, walked out shirtless with my bath towel wrapped around his waist. Helen poked her head out of the bedroom and froze when she saw me. "Lawrence? I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow." I looked at Martin. "Why is he here?" "The water at Martin's place got shut off, so he came over to shower." Helen said it like there was nothing unusual about it. My eyes dropped to the towel around his waist. "And he's using my

Week thirty-one. Seven days until decision day. May 8th. One week exactly. I wake up to Damien already gone. A note on the pillow: "Had to handle some logistics for next week. Don't worry—nothing's wrong. I love you. See you tonight. -D" Logistics for the proposal. He's planning something. I text him: "You're being mysterious." His response: "You'll find out in seven days. Be patient." Me: "Patience isn't my strong suit."

Elegant handwriting covered the page. The message was brief. The debt shall be forgiven. The younger daughter shall receive treatment. The marriage shall take place upon Lady Elara Ashbourne's eighteenth birthday. The offer expires in seven days. The First Blood Silence filled the room. Seven days. Only seven. The deadline suddenly made everything real. Selene began crying quietly. Rowan looked defeated. Lyra stared at the table. And Elara felt something inside her finally settle. Not peace. Not acceptance. Something else.

I had been in love with Leo, the Don of a Mafia family. For seven years, I was there with him through the darkest nights, cleaned up after him more times than I could count, and convinced myself that he would give me the ending I deserved. When word got back to me that Leo was planning a proposal, I could barely contain the tremble in my fingers. However, the woman he was proposing to wasn’t me. My eyes burned, and my voice was barely a whisper. “Why?” Leo pulled me into his arms in assurance, his chest warm against my skin, but the words coming out of his mouth were anything but. “Nina has cancer. Her only wish is to know what it’s like to be proposed to. I couldn’t say no to h

My husband Matteo is the Don of the Moretti family, the kind of man who makes everyone bow their heads. Except when it comes to Chiara, his genius hacker of an adopted sister. She's the one person he can't control. At least, that's what he's always told me. One causes trouble, the other cleans it up. They've been doing it for five years. Until she tampered with my brake system. The car crashed. I nearly died. He didn't show up at the hospital the entire time I was in surgery. After it was over, he rushed in to explain: "Don't blame Chiara. She just thought it'd be fun. She wasn't really trying to kill you." "She knew I'd set you up with the best medical team. She was only trying to scare you

In the seventh year of holding down the Chicago arms trade for Matteo, he finally came back from the Mediterranean. The night the Five Families threw him his coronation ball, I put on my custom gown. I was ready to see the man I had waited seven years for. Right before my entrance, my cousin Vivienne barged into the dressing room. She did our books, and she snatched the head-table nameplate off my table. She looked at me with cold pity. "Camilla, don't embarrass yourself. The seat for the Don's wife was never meant for you." She slammed a yellowed betting slip from a Vegas underground bookmaker onto the table. The wager was a hundred grand. The name on the ticket was Matteo. The betting line

He smiled. Jimmy giggles. "Right from mum's belly." Laughter was heard. * * * Lola stared at the computer before her.Why was it so hard for her to concentrate today?.She flipped up the files on her table,recollecting she had a meeting to attend with her boss. The intercom buzzed. 📞Appointment by 7pm tonight. Don't be late.Flight ticket would be sent by 6 and you would be back before 12am to prepare for your festivity.