The Quiet American Book Novels & Stories

I’d been through seven foster homes. Before each one sent me away, they stopped answering my questions, stopped looking at me, and let the house grow silent. I couldn’t stand that kind of silence. So I became someone who talked too much. When my biological mother finally brought me into the powerful Moretti family at seventeen, I tried even harder to make people like me. Within one day, I knew the guards’ birthdays, the school nurse’s favorite podcast, and where my classmates kept their emergency medication. My stepsister Bianca called it manipulation. My stepbrother Luca called it an addiction to attention. To cure me, he ordered my entire school and family not to speak to me for seventy-tw

Jasper's grandfather, Daniel Carter, presided at the head of the table, an empty chair beside him. Without a word from Daniel, no one dared to lift a fork. "Stephen's not here yet. Let's hang tight a little longer." No sooner had the words faded than a rustle came from outside the door. Moments later, a man cloaked in a black overcoat entered, catching everyone's eye. Stephen had spent years overseas, rarely showing his face at home. The Carters always held Daniel's favorite grandson in high regard. "Sorry for being late." The man brought a lingering cold from outside as he nonchalantly hung his coat on a chair and sat across from Elaine.

The familiar sequence — key in the lock, the slight resistance of the door, the sound of her bag hitting the floor. Then Anne herself, stepping in with the exhaustion of someone who had been holding other people together all day. She dropped onto the couch. “Tell me the evening is going to be quiet.” “I made food,” Joy said. “You’re my favourite person.” They ate on the couch. No television. Just the quiet shift into evening. Joy was quieter than usual. “How was your day?” Anne asked. “Quiet. You?” Anne exhaled. “Tiring. One of my clients was having a harder day. Those ones stay with you.”

When someone commented, he simply smiled. Lola pov That night, Lola stood at the window, city lights reflecting softly. She wasn’t torn. She wasn’t confused. She was learning the discipline of choosing peace repeatedly not just once. And that discipline felt like freedom. Noah pov Noah donated the book Lola had once recommended. He didn’t need it anymore. He carried the lesson instead. Melvin pov Melvin slept deeply that night. No dreams. No echoes. Just rest. Lola pov As she turned off the lights, Lola felt certain of one thing:

He said. Quinton grabbed the remote from his end table and turned on the television hanging on the wall. He found the movie we were wanting to watch and leaned back against the headboard. There was a knock at the door and Quinton went to stand up. "I'll get it" I said putting a hand on his chest to lay him back down. He looked so comfortable. I got up and opened the door and a young girl was standing there with a silver tray. "Here you go ma'am" She said handing me the tray. "Thank you" I said before she walked away.

"A shell of her former self, eh? That's spot on, Grandpa. Let's just focus on ourselves from now on. They're nothing to us." He nodded in agreement. "I won't get worked up because of her anymore. We'll live well together." Jolene dropped by not long after. She came bearing gifts for Bruce, but didn't plead for Leon. "Bruce, I'll get to the end of this. I'm just glad you're alright." Bruce didn't give her a warm response. She felt guilty and left on her own. However, she felt an odd sense of emptiness growing inside her as she walked away, leaving her increasingly uneasy. She lit a cigarette—something she hadn't touched in a long time.

Apologize to Adam, Caleb, and Quinn, or I'll announce in the newspaper that I'm disowning you! As I looked at the biased old woman, all the last remnants of any warmth in my heart evaporated. I took a step back, pretending to be scared. My voice trembled as I cried out, "Grandma, why? Uncle Adam and Uncle Caleb were the ones fighting, and Quinn even hit me! Why should I be the one to kneel?" "Why?" Grandma sneered. "Because you're an ungrateful wretch! Quinn married a great husband. She's the pride of this family. And you? What are you? Who do you think you are, comparing yourself to them?"

But because some questions never get answers, and I had stopped waiting for them. At last, on a quiet evening, my spirit dissolved completely.

I wanted to take it with me, to bury these ridiculous seven years for good. The office was pitch-dark, except for the light still on in the CEO's office. Wanting to say a final goodbye to Chelsea, I walked up to the door and reached for the handle. That was when I heard her voice, trembling with tears and something indistinct underneath. "Donald, don't. We can't do this…" My hand froze in midair.

Smiling a little at me " I was asked to ask if you would like to take anything. " Giving her forced smile I shake my head before replying " no am good. " Closing the door I quickly race back to the bed jumping on it and picking the book up ready to finish it. After some few chapters I heard a knock on the door again, groaning loudly. I got up to open the door. Looking at the old lady in front of me who had a black and white uniform on I couldn't help but wonder who she was. Slightly she bowed her head making it a little bit awkward for me.