The Room Between Us Novels & Stories

I stepped away immediately. “Sorry.” She walked toward me slowly, her shoes making soft sounds against the marble floor. The closer she got, the more I realized how serious her expression was. “That room belongs to Mr. Hawthorne.” “I understand.” She stopped a few feet away from me. Her eyes studied my face carefully. “You like art.” It wasn’t a question. I nodded. “I studied art history for a year in college,” I admitted quietly. Before I could afford it, I almost added. Marta glanced briefly at the plaque beside the door.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then I turned it. A click sounded. The lock opened. I stared at Great. He stared at me. Neither of us spoke. I slowly removed the key and pushed the door open. The room beyond it was small and dark. Dust covered the floor, and a narrow window allowed a little sunlight to enter. There was an old wooden cupboard against one wall and a table near the window. But it wasn't the furniture that caught my attention. It was the photograph hanging above the table.

I stood there. The man followed him. I was left alone in the room. The screen on the wall was still on. It showed the house being emptied. I walked closer to it. Then I saw something in the corner of the screen. A small figure. It was Rose. She was standing in one of the windows of the house. She was looking out. And she was crying. The screen changed. It showed another room. Liam was there. He was tied to a chair. My mother was standing behind him.

For a few minutes I didn’t move. The room still smelled like sex. The practice paper was on the floor near the desk. My pen had rolled under the chair. Raihan’s shorts were draped over the end of the bed like they’d been abandoned mid-decision. Ordinary hostel noise filtered in from the corridor — doors, someone coughing, the distant sound of a kettle — but inside our room everything felt suspended. Raihan stirred against me. “If you say the word ‘notes,’ I’m smothering you,” he muttered into my skin.

On Julian Sterling’s birthday, Zara Xavier secretly traveled six hours to his city to surprise him. She knew he had been eyeing a limited-edition watch, one of only a few in the world, so she arranged to meet a college student in person to buy it. When the girl arrived, Zara was surprised to see that she was pregnant. She was still in college, but her belly was already quite large. She was well into her third trimester. “Hi, I’m Zoey Ramsey. You’re the one who wanted the watch, right?” Zoey pulled the watch out of its original box and handed it to Zara as if it were no big deal. Zara happily took it. “Yes, this is the one. My husband really likes it. Ms. Ramsey, how much are you asking

“Can you lay with me? Just until I fall asleep again. Please.” His chest tightened. “Beatrice,” he said softly. “Are you sure?” She nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to be alone.” He hesitated for half a second. Then he kicked off his shoes and got into the bed beside her, on top of the duvet at first. He left a careful space between them. “Just to keep you company,” he said quietly. She didn’t answer. She just turned on her side to face him. For a long time they just looked at each other. The room was dim. The only light was a thin line from the hallway under the door.

For a moment, there was nothing but easy conversation. Then the door opened. A man stepped inside. "Sir." Mr. Adams looked up. The man approached and placed a tablet on the table in front of him. "We found something." Mr. Adams’ expression remained unreadable. Then he looked up. "Where?" "Italy." The room went silent.

I seem to be born knowing how to make myself small enough for everyone else. When I was five, Mom and Dad posed for a family portrait with my younger brother, Orson Townsend, standing between them. Each of them held one of his hands, and because I was worried the picture would look too crowded, I quietly slipped behind a potted plant. The photographer counted heads three times before smiling. "What a beautiful family of three." I clapped along from behind the leaves. At my 12th birthday party, Orson claimed the slice of cake with the most frosting. Mom and Dad took one piece each, while I cleared the table and washed the plate without being asked. Mom praised me for being so considerate,

"At least, I do not think so. I am not a messy person, I am only unorganized occasionally when my mind is too preoccupied. And I clean this room every week." Nathan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him disbelievingly. "Yeah? When was the last time you cleaned then?" "Um, yesterday?" "What?!" Unbelievable. Nathan shook his head slowly. "Come on, I will show you my room," Daniel invited him. Daniel's room was at the end of the hall on the second floor. It was rather large and spacious, and it was connected to the walk in closet and a bathroom. "Your place is nice," Nathan said, plopping down on the bed.

We back away slowly and close the door behind us. He points to the door next to it "HUZZAH! Found it" We giggle like school girls, entering the right room this time. His room is very modern and minimalistic. Grey and white decor, his bed is in the centre of the room. There is a massive square corner sofa and a large TV. Two doors on the otherside of the room. I assume ones a closet, the other is the bathroom. He points to the furthest door.