Ten Years Late Novels & Stories

I scanned the interior, looking for Evelyn's perfectly coiffed hair and designer clothes, but saw no sign of her among the laptop-wielding freelancers and young mothers with expensive strollers. I glanced at my phone. I was exactly on time. She was late. Typical. I found a table near the back, away from the windows and the worst of the morning sunlight, and sat down with my purse clutched in my lap like a shield. Ten minutes, I told myself. I would give her exactly ten minutes, and if she did not appear, I would leave and never waste another moment thinking about whatever petty drama she wanted to manufacture. I checked my phone again. Checked the door. Wondered what I was doing here when I

A woman gasps in surprise, “Look! She has a new mate mark on her neck!” The surprise travels across the people in waves, and I can hear women gushing and crowding Anita. She gushes from all the attention being showered at her. Getting marked at such a later age is no doubt an extraordinary thing because usually, most mates mark each other in their late teens or early twenties. Anita soaks up the attention, she blushes red and regales the story of the marking that happened just last night, and I can see how she’s on top of the world right now. I don’t begrudge her that. Everyone deserves happiness but there’s a part of me that’s afraid.

After all, he is the only reason why I was late for today’s bus. “Thank you, Kent. But no, no need, I am perfectly capable of finding my own way h……A-Chu-!” Before I could finish my sentence, the freaking wind whizzes inside my collar, and my shutter and sneeze betrays the strong image that I manage to project.

I reel in my impatience. “Ten.”

Then more time passed. The rain didn't stop and the food sat untouched.The candles burned lower.I checked my phone more times than I could count. No messages. No updates.Just silence. The excitement I had felt earlier slowly began to fade,replaced by something heavier.Something I couldn't name. Then my phone rang. I picked it up immediately.”Hello?” “Emilka, I’m sorry, something came up and I'm going to be late but I'll make it up to you,I promise.” He said quickly.“Oh,I said. “Okay.”

It felt sharp and stinging. Last month was my 33rd birthday, and I'd expectantly hinted that I wanted a lipstick. Jacob gave me a surprised look before mocking, "You want to act like a young lady and slather makeup on your face at your age? It makes young ladies look good, but you? You've been with me for ten years. Why do you need to look good?" He'd been so brutally direct. Even so, he'd still given me a lipstick on my birthday. I'd been delighted. I'd thought it meant I still mattered to him.

The ridiculous thing was, the moment Vivian saw Simon dead, the mission progress that had been stuck for ten years reached one hundred percent. But so what? Simon was gone. So people only know regret after they have truly lost someone. I would witness this moment on Simon's behalf.

"You're Serena Vale, right? Do you realize you were late on your first day?" Serena blinked innocently and glanced at her watch before addressing the manager, "Manager, you're mistaken. Work starts at nine and right now, it's exactly eight fifty-nine and thirty seconds. Technically, I'm not late; I'm thirty seconds early. How can that be considered late?" The manager was taken aback by the newcomer's audacity to talk back and grew even angrier. "Don't you know you're supposed to arrive five minutes early? It's basic professionalism."

POV Alejandro King He’s late. I hate it when people are late, it’s so disrespectful. I am sitting in my limousine waiting for one of my clients to arrive. Usually I don’t do business dealings like this, but I seem to not be able to get through to this guy that I mean business and he owes me ten million dollars.

Chloe said, trying to sound as confident and put-together as the perfectly arranged orchid on the desk. The woman glanced at a clock on the wall, then back at Chloe, her lips barely moving. “Applications closed at ten o’clock, Miss Brown. You are forty-seven minutes late. Mr. Overton is very particular about punctuality.” Chloe’s heart sank, but she plastered on her most earnest, persuasive smile—the one her uncle called the ‘Sympathy Sell.’