Novel & Cerita Story On Myself

I’m not going to have to dodge that storm, and I can skip all my recuperating rituals. Tomorrow, I’m quitting my job. Next week, I’m flying back home. Biswa was distraught, when I told him about my decision when he called last night. He couldn’t believe it for a while. “What the hell will you do there?” he asked. I remembered Nisim’s insight: For the greatest story-tellers, telling their story is their deepest yearning. It’s their way of life. “I’ll write the second story.” I said. “Second story? When did you write the first one?”

His eyes haven’t left me since I stepped out. “But one day, I stopped. I stopped letting other people write my story for me.” There’s something sharp in my chest—grief, maybe. Or anger that’s settled into something steadier. “I didn’t wake up powerful. I wasn’t born brave. I broke, slowly. Then I rebuilt, slowly. And in that rebuilding, I learned something.” I lean closer to the mic. “No one is coming to save you. You have to save yourself.” I let the silence stretch after that. It’s intentional.

Then “I’ve heard a lot of stories about myself tonight.” A small ripple of laughter. Nervous. Interested. “Some of them were true,” I continued. “Most of them weren’t.” A pause. Just enough. “But that’s the problem with stories,” I said. “If you let other people tell them for you… you lose control of who you are.” The room stilled. Focus tightened. I felt it. That shift again. The same one from before. But stronger now. “I won’t do that,” I said.

“You don’t deserve to hide. You did nothing wrong.” I looked at the floor. “The world disagrees.” Maya reached for my hand. “You remember what you told me once? About teaching players to get back up after a fall?” “Yeah.” “Well, this is your fall. You can’t stay down forever.” Her words sat between us, heavy but warm. “I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I said quietly. “Every headline rewrites me into someone else.” “Then write yourself back,” she said. “Stay. Fight for your own story.”

“I believe in you but what’s important is do you believe in yourself?” “I do.” “That’s what matters. As long as you believe in yourself, everyone’s opinions don’t matter.” “Do you think so?” “I know so.” “I have written a lot of short stories which i haven’t shown to anyone.” “Really?” “Yes.” “I would love to read them.” “I’m excited about the new story i thought of.” “What is it about?” “It’s about the most notorious crime family in Zambia.” “That sounds interesting.” “I don’t know where the idea came from but each and every day, it grows stronger,” Ludo smiled.

It was my 22nd birthday party and my engagement party with Conrad. Maybe God wanted to give me a second chance; in the blink of an eye, I was reborn. Not only was I alive, but I was back at the age of 22. This year, Harmon International was thriving, and my father had made it into the top ten on the Forbes list. This year, Conrad and I were still not engaged. "Of course, she's having a headache," someone behind me chimed in with a tone of malicious glee. "Yesterday, Conrad admitted in front of the media that the little secretary is his girlfriend."

If I’d stayed quiet, he would’ve kept pretending. You were never the choice, Vera, Vespa murmured. Only the placeholder. A few seconds passed. His voice softened. He realized, maybe, that he’d gone too far. But I was already looking at the flight details my classmate had sent me. “Cain,” I said quietly. “We’re done.” “What?” “I’m not your shield anymore. Or a substitute.” I ended the call before he could say anything else. I wasn’t a pawn in their polished little story. I was a wolf—wounded, yes. But no longer theirs.

that I haven’t thought about myself. If this were really some W*****d kind of shit I’m in, then there must be something drastic to happen. However, when? What should I do? Yes, I’ve read fanfics about these kinds of stuff. But, I’m not them. I’m just an average human being. There’s nothing outstanding about me… If someone were to read this story, they’ll probably give up on the first few chapters. I mean, who wants to read a story about an introvert finally achieving her dream to escape reality and have something magical to her life?

I was on my own. The End

It was hard to believe that was the same man who had once promised to love me forever. As I struggled to my feet, my right ankle throbbed with real pain. However, Caleb's deepening frown told me he thought I was faking it. I let out a bitter laugh. I said, "You know why I'm here. Should I read your chat history with her out loud for everyone to hear? "And Sheena, are you so desperate for a man that you must go after my husband? You're even calling him Daddy—how disgusting can you get?"