Novel & Cerita The Book Rebecca

Taking Grandpa’s warning seriously, I went to the library to take books to complete my notes. As I enter, I notice Rebecca Sinclair holding a pile of book in her hands, with a smugly smile on her face when her gaze falls on me. What is her problem? Every chic in this school wants to be with me but her, she is a pain in ass, just like her grades. She tops in academics’ every year and she knows that she is winning this already! “hey! Ashford! What’s up?” Oliver, my best friend taps on my shoulder, “she is not your type, dude!” she points when he notices I was glaring at Rebecca.

When Rosalie arrived at Rebecca's place, it was around ten o'clock. Rebecca was lying in bed, wearing her reading glasses and engrossed in a book. Spotting Rosalie, she quickly put down her book and smiled warmly. "Rose, you're here." "Grandma." Rosalie smiled back, sitting beside Rebecca's bed. "What are you reading?" "It's a romance novel," Rebecca replied. Rosalie peeked at the cover out of curiosity. Indeed, it was one of those girly romance novels.

Now, that's a question that did not answer up until now. (Adapted from The Niapachad Island; in the perspective of The Origins, first edition) *~*~*~*~* Lady Rebecca Davis, or also known as Becca by her friends and families, closed the book that she was currently reading about the history of her home country, The Niapachad Island; in the perspective of The Origins. The author was anonymous but the book was published for public usage as she did remember reading it when she was being tutored by one of the greatest minds on the island.

The curtains had been washed and fixed, drawn back and the rays of the setting sun now softened the deep blue of the velvet chair beneath the reading lamp. She stepped inside slowly, not sure what she was even looking for. Everything had been so carefully preserved, and yet it all felt different. Rebecca moved around the desk and pulled open the side drawer she hadn’t touched in years. Her fingers paused on a slim, spiral-bound notebook with childish stickers peeling along the front. Alecia’s handwriting was unmistakable, etched across the top in ink and glitter pen was; This book is private!! If you’re not me, CLOSE IT!

While the other friend slightly smirks to get a chance to adore her face and body more. "Alright, wait here." She turned and felt the same gaze again but tried to ignore it and started looking around at the shelves, while both boys smirked at each other and looked at her backside with dirty gazes. Their faces look proud to get her back. Rebecca, realizing their gazes, tried to find books fast, but at last, could not find the books. She turned back to look at both boys whose eyes still had the same beast gaze. Rebecca senses their sights trying to speak less.

She was going to do her job, and she was going to do it perfectly—no matter how much her body screamed at her to throw the notebook aside and step into his arms. As they moved past the ancestral gallery and into a wider, torch-lit corridor, the scale of the manor seemed to grow even more imposing. The rhythmic clicking of Rebecca's boots echoed off the vaulted ceilings, a sharp contrast to Lucian’s entirely silent stride. Desperate to keep her mind anchored in her duties, she kept her notebook open, her charcoal pencil poised.

She looked at the empty table and ate her food sadly. Rebecca was at the balcony, which was directly behind Williams' room. She had her eyes at the field ahead but wasn't looking at anything in particular. She had her arms folded and was lost in thoughts. "Your grace?" Someone called her. Rebecca heard it and turned her head round. She smiled faintly at the person. "What are you doing here this late? Shouldn't you be asleep?" Zita asked her worriedly. "I couldn't sleep." Rebecca said candidly. She returned to her previous position.

Rebecca was the first person I noticed the moment I walked in, the woman that had invaded my dreams and mind. The first and last time I had seen her before she walked into my study had been at my wedding. She was just a little teenager back then, a bright little blonde girl who looked like the brand ambassador for the color pink. Her father had tried to introduce her to me, but her eyes were fixed on my wife's glass heels, she didn't spare me a glance. My late wife had found her cute and couldn't stop talking about her even though Rebecca barely said a word to her or even looked at her too.

Rebecca placed her phone beside her and lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her mind still lingered on everything they had discussed. Her aunt. Seraphina. And the feeling she could not shake. Slowly, sleep claimed her. —------ At first, her sleep was going peacefully, then the dream began. Rebecca stood in a place she did not recognize. Or perhaps maybe she did. It felt like the estate. But not quite. The shadows were longer, the air colder and the silence heavier. She moved slowly, her steps echoing in a way that felt unnatural.

Her bright eyes dance around until she huffs out a breath of relief. “Okay…” she whispers, and the angst in her voice is palpable. “Where do we start?” The afternoon slips away from us. Every minute that passes the sun provides less and less light. Without a lamp, we won’t be able to do much more. The books we managed to find are scattered around us in piles. Rebecca reaches into my backpack and pulls out a wrapped corn muffin. “How are you not starving?” she mutters, relaxing against the filing cabinet behind her.