The Next 365 Days Novels & Stories

Three hundred sixty-three scratches on the wall. Two days to go. Brynn carved the line and noticed her hand was steady for the first time in weeks. Two days. The number had finally stopped being a threat and started being a promise. Whatever came after the gate, the year itself, the three hundred sixty-three days of it, was almost paid in full. The council came that morning.

The whole world waited. *Are you certain this is what you want?* "Yes."I said without hesitation or apology. She didn't ask again. *Then you will return.* The words settled over me like a hand placed gently over a wound. *You have three hundred and sixty-five days, Amara. One year from the moment your feet touch the earth again. When that time is done, you come home. No argument. No negotiation. No extension.* Something dropped in my chest. "Three hundred and sixty-five days." I turned the number over slowly, measuring it against everything I needed to do and finding it painfully small. "Can't you give me more? Two years, even. Surely —"

Three days is not a long time. Three days is, in fact, the exact amount of time a person can go from being a person who is happy to be a person who is panicking. Three days is the exact amount of time between. I want people to know I am with you too, and I have not heard from him since Tuesday, and I am a person who is fine.

Caleb’s offer felt like the only straightforward thing in my life right now, even though it was a totally bad idea. “I… I don’t know,” I said, looking away. “I have to think about it.” He nodded, not pushing. “Take your time. The offer stands. Text me if you need anything. Even if it’s just to talk.” He gave me one last small smile and walked away, leaving me standing there with my thoughts spinning. I started walking back toward the penthouse, my feet moving on autopilot. The campus paths were busy with students heading to afternoon classes, but I barely noticed them. My mind kept replaying the sponsor’s words. Twenty-four hours. Pack your things. Return the keys.

There were only three days left before our bond would break on its own. Besides, he never cared about me anyway.

No money beyond the few bills in my purse. Nowhere.

It has to be another day. Maybe tomorrow or maybe never.

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350 days left. No contract. No rules. Just him. Just me. Just war.

Three more days, and our lives would change forever. I couldn't wait.