Ten Years Novels & Stories

"She's not young anymore, yet she's still causing such a scene. I bet she'll break down when the guy really dumps her." I wasn't too angry as I listened to them. I knew the real culprits were the Lockes. Jacob suddenly wrenched free of the security guards and lunged toward me, whipping a silver ring from his coat pocket. He dropped to one knee before me as everyone watched. He looked up at me soulfully. "Babe, you've stuck with me for ten years and watched me mature. You keep worrying that I don't want you or that I'm too close to other women. I know that your insecurity comes from how long we've been together.

Me: "I don't know...till they are 40?" Mom: [Surprised and a bit insulted.] "Not exactly. The record I think has been 66, but realistically it is 50 for making them, and up to 70 for simply carrying them to term for someone else. Now, if we were to be together, if you were to MARRY ME, we would have ten years to make babies, if we wanted to. TEN YEARS. That's ten chances to have new babies. Do you like the thought of that? Maybe me and you, making babies for ten years? Filling up this four bedroom house finally with baby after baby? In ten years, we might have two m

Chapter 87 – Ten Years, One More Light (Eli POV) Ten years felt like a number that belonged to other people. Not us. Not yet. But the calendar didn’t lie, and neither did the tiny handwritten banner our daughter, Lila, had taped crookedly across the kitchen doorway in bright purple marker: “10 YEARS OF DADDY E + DADDY D (AND PUCK & MILTON)”. The letters were uneven, the tape peeling at one corner already, but she’d spent twenty minutes getting it just right, tongue poking out in concentration the whole time.

When Nicholas saw me, his eyes lit up with joy. "Ariana, let's talk." There was nothing left to say. "Nicholas, we're over. Can you stop bothering me?" His eyes turned red. His hands curled slightly at his sides. He looked aggrieved, as if I were the one who betrayed him. "I never agreed to break up." He looked up at me carefully and continued, "Ariana, we've been together for ten years. You can't treat me like this."

At the party celebrating the multimillion-dollar deal I've landed, my husband, Nick Ferguson, is about to announce my promotion and raise, but Ruby Holm, his secretary, deliberately interrupts him by feeding him her drink. My germaphobic husband doesn't even flinch. Without thinking, he puts the straw she has just used into his mouth. The employees immediately start teasing them, asking when they're getting married. Instead of denying it, Nick promotes Ruby to department manager. A coworker nudges my elbow. "Chloe, you've been with Mr. Ferguson for ten years. You're really not going to say anything?" I let out a cold laugh and toss my equity transfer agre

On the third day of our captivity in the abandoned cannery, Adrian finally found me with his private security team. I clutched five-year-old Leah in my arms and stumbled toward the light. My coat had long since been torn to shreds, the soles of my feet were mangled by broken glass, and Leah curled against my chest, burning up with fever. Vera looked relieved to see me alive, but then suddenly turned and walked toward the kidnappers. "Vera, come back!" My voice was already hoarse from screaming. "They won't keep their word even after they get the money. Leah still has a fever. We need to call the police and get her to a hospital!" Adrian wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice almos

"Ten years." "Ten years," Don said. "Which contains you, and the estate, and Thomas and the foxgloves and the quince trees and the east wing and the trips. The ten years as the accumulation that the book has been about — not in the abstract of cities and landscapes but in the specific of the life that produced the argument."

The Tenth Anniversary September of the forty-eighth year. Ten years married. This is a number that deserves sitting with, which she does on the morning of the anniversary — alone, which is the right way to sit with things before sharing them — at the Bunkers, at six-thirty, before the city has fully committed to the day. The view is the same. She is not.

Ten minutes before my childhood friend, Scott Burdett, got married, I personally handed him a bouquet of condoms. He laughed and asked, "Aren't you worried I'll be tapped out by morning?" Caitlyn Harp stood off to one side, her expression hard to read. After Scott left, she adjusted her earrings and studied my reflection in the mirror. "Actually, I'm the one marrying him today. I'm going to use up every last one of those condoms you bought tonight." I froze. She laughed. "Just kidding. I'll explain everything after the ceremony." After that, time seemed to blur. I stood in the best man's spot and watched the two people I loved most walk down the aisle and exchange rings before the off

The class laughed at him. "Stop that," Maria cautioned the class as she turned her focus back to John who was feeling shy. "A decade basically means a series of ten. It can also be seen as a period of ten years. Since you are ten years old, you can also say that you are a decade old. Do you understand what a decade means now, John?" "Yes, ma," John nodded. Maria told him to sit down.