The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button Novels & Stories

“My sister canceled your wedding! What did you do to her? I swear I’ll—” Jeremy’s words blurred into a distant hum in Benjamin’s ears as he struggled to sit up. His head throbbed, and his body swayed until he accidentally knocked over a pen lying beside him. He didn’t remember leaving a pen and notebook there, but his hand instinctively reached for them. His heart plummeted as he recognized Bonita’s handwriting. Every word she wrote brought memories flooding back. His body floated with joy as Bonita described her love for him but crashed when he read her final words about traveling the world to find a man who would make her fall in love again.

She clearly wants to get off the subject herself. “So. What do you guys do for a living?” Ben glares at me, then takes a slug of whiskey. “I make paper,” he begins. As he’s explaining about his paper company, I sip my tepid coffee, trembling a little. I can’t believe my stupid white lie came out. But neither can I believe how seriously Ben is taking it. For God’s sake. Who cares who nursed whom? I’m so distracted, I tune right out of the conversation, then wake up when I hear the words “move abroad” from Ben. Is he talking about France?

… Meanwhile, Benjamin returned to Hawkins Manor after a business gathering late at night, reeking of alcohol. He sat in the backseat of the car. As the driver parked the car in the garage, he softly reminded Benjamin, "Mr. Hawkins, we're home." Benjamin groggily opened his eyes and glanced at the familiar building outside the window. He stretched out his hand to loosen his tie and opened the car door. "Okay, you can go back." With that, he got out of the car. The large courtyard was quiet. Looking up at the villa in front of him, Benjamin's vision blurred slightly.

"Why not you find out yourself if there's an issue with my body? I bet Ben hasn't touched you until now, am I correct? "You're so young. Do you want to remain a spinster forever? Shall I give you a taste of heaven?" Benjamin exuded an intimidating chill, and the air in the living room seemed to freeze. "Diesel, do you no longer wish to speak?" Victoria held onto Benjamin and sent him a signal to calm down. She then looked down at Diesel with a disdainful expression and asked, "You? Do you even have that ability?" Diesel's demeanor turned dark. "Benjamin is already 32 this year. He saw that his marriage was getting delayed, afraid that his inadequacy would be exposed, so he found you.

Why was that? Why did my heart ache whenever I thought of him? Did I have such a tragic past? It was so strange; even though I only met that man in my dreams, why did he have such a profound impact on me? Should I ask Benjamin about his existence? Because I could not remember and was consumed by curiosity, I asked Benjamin if I had known any other men besides him. But Benjamin’s reaction was bizarre. When I asked that question, his eyes darkened, only for him to change his expression a few seconds later, becoming cheerful and patting my head.

Skin against skin. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink. I just stared. Damien’s hand slid down the curve of her waist. Her hair spilled over his chest. A familiar scent hit me, floral and expensive. Chanel No. 5. My mother’s perfume. The bouquet slipped from my hands, hitting the hardwood with a dull thud. The sound made Damien’s head jerk up. His eyes met mine over her shoulder. His pupils dilated. His mouth fell open. “Elara.”

But as they approached the room, a sharp flick of a lighter cut through the hallway's hush. The door was slightly ajar. Through the narrow slit, Sarah caught a glimpse of a scene that felt painfully out of sync with her memories. Benjamin—refined, soft-spoken, supposedly dying of lung cancer—was calmly smoking a cigarette. Across from him, lounging on the sofa, sat his parents. Their faces were lit with smug satisfaction. Benjamin's mother, in particular, looked positively gleeful as she counted through the money Sarah had given them. "Our Benjamin’s a genius, isn’t he?" she cackled, voice dripping with malice. "Faking cancer to string along that idiot woman—a professor, no less, and she nev

The car pulled into the yard, making me uneasy as I waited on the porch. I had promised to meet Benjamin tomorrow, and he had agreed. Yet now he showed up without warning. I couldn’t understand the way this man’s mind worked. He looked too much like Alexei, and just like Alexei, he was completely unpredictable. It felt as though Benjamin always thought several steps ahead of everyone else. When Benjamin stepped out of the car, my breath caught. Dressed in a casual collared shirt with a gray jacket, he walked toward me with confident strides. A faint smile curved his lips. It was a polite smile, yet there was an unmistakable flash of arrogance behind it.

I inserted my birthday and it unlocked with a single folder on the desktop titled ‘my wife’. Curiosity got the better of me and I clicked it to find a ton of my nude pictures on the screen. There were over five hundred of them with some being pictures. I pressed play on one of them against my better judgment, swallowing as my face came to view. I pulled Benjamin into the room, clothed to seduce. “You always surprise me, baby,” he said. I remembered this day, it was filled with passion or so I thought. Benjamin’s face was blurred out with just me fully seen. The camera captured everything.

Rebellion tasted delicious. Benjamin emerged late afternoon, looking drained. The sharp suit couldn’t hide the shadows under his eyes. He didn’t head for the exit. He walked straight to my pod. "Ready?" "For what? More thrilling paperwork?" "Home." He said it like it was something personal, like the only safe place left. The drive back to the penthouse was silent. Tense. Benjamin stared out the window, lost in a maze of corporate intrigue and murder plots. I stared at the back of the driver’s head, wondering if he had access to the brakes.