The Apple Test Romane & Geschichten

"Alright, alright. I'll come to you." Once his footsteps faded, I opened my eyes. Grabbed my phone. Booked a one-way ticket. Somewhere far. Three years of tests, lies, and fake love—I was done. "Jacob, I never want to see you again."

TJ’s POV “I am never going to get this” and groan at Lowe and Atlas Atlas smiles at me “You will, you just need to concentrate better. Now try again” They had given me an apple to practise with, because starting small was the way to move forward apparently, but no matter how much I tried, the apple would end up in a different place either in the room or no where to be seen, one apple had even split in two. Lowe had joked that it wouldn't matter if I managed to pull that off with Alice

Looking deeply at me, he regretfully added, “Unfortunately, you didn’t pass it…” “I’m sorry, Alpha.” Cold silence momentarily filled the air as I stared at Henry, processing everything he said. Test? A fucking test? That’s a test? At first, I was confused until I understood it well, and fury instantly surged in me. I was trembling as I felt my blood boil with anger. Sarcastically, I asked, “So, what? Are you telling me that what happened is a test? Because of that banquet, has my marriage with Della already been decided? Just like that?”

Alice took a glass of champagne from a server that walked passed “Thank you, gentlemen. I will see you all in London. I hope you all will treat me as one of you.” All the men lifted their glasses and took a sip. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Alice,” Adriano said as he frowned at Alice over the rim of his glass. “Aren’t you planning to hand over the family business to her?” One of the men asked out of curiosity “It depends if she can pass all the tests. One does not count their chickens before they hatched.” Testing someone can be done in a thousand ways, but Alice knew her father and his method of “testing.” Hard days were awaiting Alice in the future…

I grab it from the nightstand, squinting at the bright screen. Unknown number. A text message. My stomach drops as I read: *Congratulations on remaining unbound, Luna Sage. I’m sure you think you’ve won. But the real test hasn’t even begun. Sleep well while you can. – A Friend* Ice floods my veins. I read it again. And again. Trying to make sense of the words. *The real test hasn’t even begun.* Who is this? Alpha James trying to intimidate me? Someone from the conservative bloc? Or something worse?

Opposite the café, nestled under the green awning of a small grocery store, an elderly vendor had set up a wooden crate filled with bright, polished apples. I stepped under the shade, the scent of fresh earth and sweet fruit hitting my nose as I approached the cart. "Morning, ma'am," the vendor said, offering a polite nod. "Can I help you find something fresh today?" "Yes, just... looking for some apples for the week," I murmured, my voice muffled slightly by the silk scarf as I reached down, picking up a large red apple and turning it over in my hand, pretending to inspect it for blemishes.

"I don't want my children going to school with the offspring of idiots. It might be contagious." The woman grabbed her kid and fled the room, humiliated. The other parents in the room were silent, looking at Serenity with fear and respect. Just then, the Dean came out. "Mr. Sterling! Please, come in. We are ready for the assessment." Inside the office. The Dean took out a few cards with apples and bananas on them. "Okay, little Alex," the Dean smiled condescendingly. "If I have three apples and I eat one, how many are left?"

I was still in deep thoughts when Mr John's voice interrupted me. “Your test will start soon. It's called the silent creation test, we won't give you any guidelines or rules for this test.” “You will do everything without guidelines, no writings or instructions.” “The task would have a very limited time, less than five minutes. You have to think hard and come up with the artwork you want to do.” “The exam board members and Alpha Roman over here would grade you according to your performance. The moment I heard Roman's name, fear filled my body. The fear of me losing or him discrediting my effort due to his hatred for me.

For one fleeting moment, his anger looked like concern, and something traitorous in my chest softened. But then I remembered the words I’d written in my diary. God will keep giving you the same test until you choose differently. I wasn’t going to make excuses for him this time. Not for a rescue. Not for a scrap of attention. I yanked at his grip, my voice trembling with fury. “Let. Me. Go.”

one wailed dramatically, flinging itself off the windowsill like a war widow in a telenovela. Meanwhile, the apple tree in the garden—Sir Appleton the Third, self-proclaimed poetic genius—delivered a sonnet as we packed. “And lo, the queen doth depart, With a king of abs and trembling heart, May thy love be like compost—warm, layered, and eternal.” I cried. The king cried (inwardly, stoically). Mr. Yellow gagged. “I swear,” he grumbled, dragging his tiny luggage made of thimble and leaf, “if that apple recites one more fruity haiku, I’m torching the orchard.”