Novel & Cerita The Novel Apartments

New York City – Selena’s Apartment Rain drummed a relentless rhythm against the windows, the city lights reflecting in the puddles on the streets below. Inside, the apartment was warm but weighed heavy with unspoken histories, decisions, and betrayals. Selena stood at the edge of the fireplace, staring into the flickering flame as if it could illuminate a path through the chaos that had consumed their lives.

“This can’t be true. Isn’t Charlene a poor student? How could she afford it?” “That’s right. This apartment must belong to Jacob. He drives an expensive car, and he dresses in luxury brands. Jacob, hurry up and explain!” Jacob pursed his lips as sweat covered his forehead. Meanwhile, Prissy nudged him anxiously. “Jacob! It’s clearly written on the document that you gave me the apartment. Why is he saying that it belongs to Charlene?! Tell me now!” I sneered at Prissy as she stomped her foot, and I slowly said, “Obviously, that deed is fake!”

Isla’s POV By late afternoon, I had convinced myself that scrolling through glossy listings was not enough. If I was serious about reclaiming my independence, I had to see the places with my own eyes. The first apartment was tucked above a bakery. The smell of fresh bread greeted me as soon as I stepped into the stairwell. It was cozy, yes, but cramped. The kitchen was barely wider than my outstretched arms, and I could already picture Sophie knocking into the corners, tripping over the peeling linoleum.

ETA to total data loss: 6 hours, 12 minutes. Her coffee was cold. The novel was still unopened. The apartment didn’t feel clean anymore. It felt like a war room she’d tried to pretend was a home. Nathan’s last text sat on her screen: Do nothing well. The red light from her phone painted the ceiling.

, they looked each other in the eyes, got up in a hurry and crossed the street, rang the doorbell and a lady came out and said to them, "Do you want to know about the apartment? -Do you want to know about the apartment? -Yes, yes, ma'am, if you can show it to us. -Yes, of course, come in. As they walked to the apartment, the lady asked them: -Who is the apartment for? -For both of us, we are both going to rent it. -How nice, because it has two bedrooms, do you have children? -No, no, we both study and work. -Do you like to have parties? -No, we don't have enough for that. -It was precisely what they were looking for, the windows overlooked a small terrace overlooking the street.

His mouth had tasted like cinnamon and coffee. It was her first night in her new apartment, the apartment Galen had helped her find, though he only contacted her via impersonal email, the coward. Her new landlord was one of Galen's fellow history professors, happy to rent the apartment over her garage to a recent graduate for the summer. The rent was negligible. All Lydia had to do in return was keep an eye on the main house and collect the mail while the owner was on vacation, which would be on and off all summer. Come September, Lydia would have first dibs on leasing the place for the upcoming year. It was a perfect arrangement.

Last day of June, year 4022 In a rental apartment, an apartment is a lot to say because it is nothing more than a room of the lowest category, a simple room of 4m on all sides and its bathroom with only a failed toilet, full of excrement already rotting and full of flies and worms; the room looked more like a prison room in a third world country, but one of the poorest places that could exist. A true burrowing rat, on the outskirts, reigns the chaos, discrimination, hunger, death.

Sandra said as I put the bag on the table. “Alright see you girl. Bye.” I said before ending the call and placing my cellphone on the table’s edge. I immediately prepare dinner before my brothers Charles and Vinze will come back to the apartment. This apartment was a gift from my brothers to me when I finally came to the city for college. But after 1 month of constant worrying and arguing my two brothers ditch their own apartments and came live with me. Typical over protective brothers, they are so hard to get away with… just kidding. After preparing dinner I immediately contact my apartment’s laundry department and have all my unwashed clothes, my toga and the items I bought to be washed. A

Elena New York didn’t care about who you were. It didn’t ask for your past. Didn’t pity your pain. It swallowed everyone whole—then watched to see who had the strength to crawl back out. I liked that. Because I wasn’t looking for comfort anymore. I was looking for control. A New Life The apartment was small—nothing like the glass-and-steel home Daniel and I once shared. The furniture was mismatched, the walls too thin, and the windows overlooked a fire escape covered in graffiti.

I searched the sky for a single cloud, hoping to see Auntie Tilda again, but all I found was endless black. “Do you like the apartment?” “Tonight will be my first night there,” I said shortly. “I’m sure it’s nice.” Why wouldn’t it be? It was in the most expensive building in Boston, with luxury services, a chef’s kitchen, high end appliances, heated floors, and fancy imported furniture. And I didn’t care less. Not even a little. About any of it. If anything, I was sad I couldn’t stay at Annabelle’s place, where she would crawl into bed with me every morning for warmth. Where I had conversation, laughter, and weekends spent cooking together in the tiny kitchen with a glass of wine.