Strangers Yamada Novel Novels & Stories

His body flopped down the bed; limbs cowered around him and shut eyes held out against the rage evoked all at once. He had no clue of his current location and what happened before he passed out from the Subway. Ryuu whined and bit his lip hard which turned it to dark red. His mother, white hair covered the top of her head with wrinkles all over her face, fragile body which never stopped selling their original ramen made from the wheat of the mountainside of Wakayama, he left her alone and unsure of where his Father was. How could he get in contact with them? The black phone popped up in his memory, he vaguely remembered the Japanese girl whom he last met from the scene. Could he see the girl

"It’s the only place I can remember feeling truly safe, when I was little." "It’s a good place to be," he agreed. "Much better than bars and late nights—you never know who you’ll run into in places like that." Yna went quiet, her mind drifting back to that terrible night—the night she’d met the stranger, the night everything changed. "Can I ask you something?" Alas said gently. "I hope you won’t be upset." "Of course. Anything." He guided her to a bench so she could rest her feet. He’d wanted to ask more about the pregnancy, but seeing how fragile she still was, he held back.

The man looked me up and down as I shoved my hand against the security door just before it closed. "Don't play dumb with me! "This apartment was bought outright by Lydia Zaydn last week!" I jammed my fingers into the narrowing gap, the door biting down until my knuckles turned red. "To celebrate moving in, we even went shopping at Hermès yesterday! "This is the password Lydia gave me. Who are you supposed to be?" I shouted as I tried to squeeze inside, but the man was much stronger than I expected. No matter how hard I pushed, I could not get in.

Almost instinctively, I pulled out my phone and checked my browsing history for the video from last night. In it, the side profiles of the two elderly people were identical to the faces of my in-laws standing before me now. If the clip hadn't flashed by so quickly, I would have recognized them right away. And in other videos—those fleeting, fragmented moments—my wife, Cynthia Muller, appeared again and again, holding a child in her arms. The little boy called her "Mom" with intimate affection. Under a sky lit by fireworks, the man held her close and kissed her.

Liam’s POV** The next morning, the storm that had raged inside the house the previous day was replaced by the warm scent of fresh chai and the faint hum of the valley waking up. Sunlight seeped through the windows, casting delicate, shifting shadows on the wooden floor. Outside, the sweet humming of birds mingled with the rustle of pine trees, creating a melody so gentle it felt like the mountains themselves were singing. For the first time since yesterday, it didn’t feel like the world was about to drift apart.

But less than thirty minutes later, there I was downstairs by the pool, headphones slung around my neck, three books stacked beside me. The swimsuit I chose was the only one with enough fabric to look remotely human, and even then I’d paired it with a kimono to keep myself from feeling completely exposed. Tyler was already there, phone tilted toward his face, laughing with Lena again. Always Lena. I wrapped my kimono tighter, sank into the chair, and tried to bury myself in my book. At least books had never betrayed me Grant has always been too close or too distant, like he’s playing some game I’ll never understand. And Tyler—Motherrrr, I thought maybe he wasn’t that bad after yesterday.

he asked. “Yes,” I replied quicker and sharper than I intended. I took a deep breath willing myself to calm down. “I don't mind. This is actually our first phone call, you know” He chuckled lightly, a sound that made my tummy rumble with butterflies. “Yeah I realize” “It feels…strange. And weirdly new” I muttered. “Good strange or bad strange?” he asked. “Good strange,” I said, biting my lip. He was quiet for some seconds, then he replied. “I'm glad it is”

His question only poured fear into their mounting anxiety. “I... I did, Sandaime” (Third Generation Leader). The man with a tattoo on his cheek answered hesitantly, bowing again. “Yamada? What did you do to her?” Kenji leaned his head back, now focusing solely on Yamada. “I kicked a piece of a broken cup, but the girl was holding it. Her hand was cut as a result." Yamada explained, bowing even deeper—more than ninety degrees. Kenji lowered his crossed legs, sighing. The small movement made Yamada recoil, terrified of what Kenji might do. But Kenji did nothing unusual, merely running his fingers through his hair.

I gasped as he staggered back, groaning. “Keep your hands off what’s mine, or I’ll cut them off,” the stranger snarled, his tone harsh and authoritative. My pulse quickened, heat pooling in my core. Summoning courage, I stepped between them. “Leave him be! He hasn’t done anything!” I said firmly. He turned to me, his gaze softening. “Sorry, I scared you, darling.” He reached out, but I pushed him away. His electric touch left my skin buzzing for more, but the ordeal sent a surge of dread spiralling through me, its grip a cold embrace.

“This is not about him. This is about our sisterly relationship.” “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m the one who slept with a stranger and refused to take a morning-after pill. And that wasn’t on purpose. I had slept with Zion a couple of times and I didn’t get pregnant. I thought I wasn’t a very fertile lady so a night with a stranger without protection was probably nothing. But it’s cool. I can’t imagine living a life without Ryan in it. He is my greatest blessing of all.” “The stranger’s sperm was definitely stronger than Zion’s own.”