The Longing Books Novels & Stories

Leave it buried. Walking to my room to find something for my dinner date, it's like walking to the gallows. I used to hope that the Rob that married me would come back. I would try to please him, lost pride, and begged many times, and I tried to make him see reason, but my love for him just cut off like a switch one day. It was a relief. I could navigate the roller coaster of Rob so much better when not pining for his love. The anger is harder to control, though, and it’s getting harder by the day.

I entered mine, went through the three books I had gotten from the store, and set them down on the bed. I folded my arms and read their names. The Claiming Rites, Finding the One, and Under the Red Moon. There was no order in which anyone should read these books, so I sat down and picked up The Claiming Rites. After an hour, I finished reading. The book made zero sense, and then I picked up Finding the One and spent another hour reading through it. While the first book was incomplete, the second made a little more sense. I picked up the third, which I had gone to Zion’s room with. I took my time reading, and another hour went by.

Hi!!! Just wanted to pop in and say thank you for taking the time to read my work. This is the final book in my Unspoken Trilogy. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Book 1 - Unspoken Promises Book 2 - Unspoken Truths Book 3 - Unspoken Desires If you’re starting this novel without reading the previous books - you may get a little lost with all the characters and the fast paced events. ——————————- Chapter 1

Held it. Eight months since she'd arrived at the manor with the archive boxes and the sixty-day contract and the bookmark already in use in a different book, one that had been waiting on the nightstand in the east wing as though the room had known she was coming and had made a small preparation. Eight months. The bookmark had been in six books since October. This one had taken the longest — not because it was difficult but because she'd been rationing the ending, giving herself time inside it. She looked at the finished book.

Now that the five-year promise had ended, and I was no longer legally part of the Shaw family, I should have been in a hurry to find her and make her keep that promise. But… I hadn't even gone home. Claire opened our chat, only to realize I hadn't sent her a single message for more than two months. Our chat history would show that I had sent far more messages to her than she sent to me. I would always check on her and practically make her the center of my world. She had always assumed I would keep doing that for the rest of my life. Never had she expected that my attitude toward her had already changed so much without her even noticing.

Morrighan Yearwood is the Director of Mistfall Wilderness Camp. A tall woman with a trim figure, pale skin, and perfectly coiffed silver hair, Director Yearwood looks like she belongs in one of those prissy rich kid schools. But she’s here, overseeing the five islands. Her office stands out from the rest of the camp facilities, done up in shades of brown, gold, and white, with a huge intimidating fireplace, a plush carpet, and mysterious low lighting.

The books were mostly collections of poetry, with a powerful presence of works by William Shakespeare. “The Tempest,” she murmured, excitement evident in her voice. It brought back memories of her school days when she had wanted to borrow the book from the library, only to find it unavailable. She had never bought it herself, worrying about the burden of moving with too many belongings during her frequent relocations. Her fingers hovered over the spines of the books, dabbing them but refraining from pulling any off the shelf. “Let it go, Chom,” Ladapha sighed to herself, attempting to shake off her longing. She turned to leave but startled with a soft gasp, “Oh!”

Now, one by one, she tossed everything inside—photos, notes, journals. When the last picture curled up in the flames, she smiled. 'Mateo Lopez, all the memories are gone. And so is our future.' Under the vast night sky, no one noticed Yara walking out the gates, suitcase in hand. She never looked back.

"Send word to the others. Tell them the waiting is nearly finished. Tell them the First Flame stirs at last, and soon, very soon, nothing those pathetic kings believe they've built together will be strong enough to stop what wakes inside him." My servant bowed lower still, trembling. "As you command, my lord." I turned back to the window, watching lightning split the sky in two, and allowed myself, for the first time in ten patient years, the luxury of genuine anticipation. Let them grieve. Let them plan. Let them believe, for one more fleeting night, that love had somehow been enough to save him. By the time they understood the truth, it would already be far too late to matter.

He looked at his names which seemed to have been written carefully, and he traced his fingers on them, then he opened the next page, and what followed made Nathan’s heart ache so much. He had opened so many pages but no proper words were written on them and they contained just Nathan’s name. Some had the words “I love you, Nathan” and some had the words, “I miss you, Nath” and so many others, but you could feel the longing, the love and sadness of the writer. Nathan’s hand on the book tightened, and he didn't even know how to open the remaining five pages. His hand turned red from too much strangling, and his breathing was so heavy.