Tender Years Novels & Stories

We didn’t just want to build a clinic; we wanted to create real change. As I glanced at Mrs. Narti’s dimly lit house next door, a question suddenly popped into my mind that had been swirling around without an answer. “Julien, Ratna said she’s seven years old, right?” I furrowed my brow, trying to formulate my words. “But Mrs. Narti looks… well, she’s probably over fifty. I’m just… curious. I mean, why at that age does she still have such a small child?”

And a bit of desperation making it higher than usual. “Of, course not. Elsabet. How could you hurt me? You’d have to believe in love, in being united in spirit, in mates. You’d have to believe that I could love you. And yearn for you to love me back, for your words to cut me. Wouldn’t you say?” “I feel like you’re being unkind.” “I?” He shook his head in disbelief. Rounding on his heel. “Twenty years you’ve been in my care-”

That wedding—so grand that the whole city had envied her—had been nothing but a lie from the very start. Her hands shook as she opened the screenshot Amber sent. The pale glow from the screen lit her equally pale face. Line after line of cold text pierced her eyes like poisoned needles, each one stabbing deeper until they blurred with pain. Her heart, shattered so many times before, had only just been patched together—and now, with one blow, it was pulverized to dust. She realized, with sick horror, that she had been a mistress for ten years. Ten whole years. From 17 to 27—the brightest years of her life, all wasted on a man who had never truly made her his. How ridiculous.

He made sure not to raise his voice enough that the people seated at neighbouring tables would hear. Tiffany, however, seemed to have no such qualms and slammed her fork down loudly on the table. The plates and glasses clattered. "I am not a child, for your information," she said, "I am nineteen years old, Mr. Gold. That is adulthood by many laws, including ours, in case you didn't know." Shawn scoffed. "Oh please, age has little to do with maturity." "Clearly," she spat, and they both sat glaring at each other from across the table.

"Listen carefully. I have my own life. I won't revolve it around you, nor will I ask for your compassion. "This isn't out of stubbornness or spite; I truly want to build my future with him." I had once bitterly wondered why Jade ended up taking my place, but I came to realize that true love never kept anyone waiting forever. An unresolved story spanning 20 years could only bring regret. Wesley had sacrificed 20 years of friendship for an assistant he'd known for just two months. So, what reason did I still have to hold on to the past?

The tough decisions were Helen's to make. The following day, Chloe strode into the office and handed in her resignation. When she got home, she began to sift through the mountain of photos that chronicled the trio's shared history. Over twenty years of friendship had produced album after album of memories. Childhood games of house with Andrew and Stephen, middle school award ceremonies, college road trips... Each photo brought the past to life, as if she could step right back into those moments. However, those days were gone, and they did not matter anymore.

He is a perfect gentleman. They arrived at the prom. Charlie opened the door for her and held her hand as they walked to the gym. When they walked into the door the music was loud. Everyone was on the dance floor dancing. Charlie escorted her to the dance floor for their first dance. She was nervous. This was her first dance. She had practiced at home with her father. She only hoped she would not step on his toes. As they were dancing her dress was trilling, just as she had dreamed about. She felt like Cinderella at the Ball with her prince. They danced all night, and she did not want the night to end. It was perfect. She still could not believe it was true. This was a High School year that

I clutched my chest, gasping for breath as tears blurred my vision. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug deep into my palms, using the pain to keep myself upright. “Wandi spent a year overseas, recuperating, before she was willing to forgive Neve. In a couple of days, I’ll stage a medical ‘miracle’, stand up again, and let her resume being the Donna. This year is a penance for her willfulness.” Each word of his was uttered coolly, piercing deeper into my heart. “But… it has been a year. Will she buy it?” someone asked hesitantly.