The Waiting Game Book Novels & Stories

Turned to page forty-seven. The poem was twelve lines about waiting — not the passive kind, not the resigned kind, but the active patient kind that knew what it was waiting for and held itself ready. The kind that understood the difference between waiting because you had no choice and waiting because you had chosen to and the thing you were waiting for was worth every day of the choosing. I read it twice. Then I set the book down on the window table and looked out at the January street and thought about ten days and active patient waiting and a man who had underlined nothing but had handed me exactly the right page.

“Bleiz, by the time you see this letter, I will have already left. As for where I went, I don’t know either, but you won’t find me. As for why I left, the reason is simple: I don’t want to wait anymore.” “I don’t understand. How much longer do I have to wait for you to take me away? Will you one day lie to me and say that I have to wait for your and Mona’s child to grow up, get married, and have children, or wait until you’ve grown old with her before you leave with me?” “Bleiz, my youth is also limited. I don’t want to continue waiting for you based on an empty promise that has no end in sight. Let’s say goodbye here. We will never meet again.”

And waits. The debt can wait. The fight can wait. Everything can wait. For four years and nine months. Then the real story begins. END OF PART ONE

“Remember, power isn’t in hasty moves. It’s in control. And control, Liam… is already yours. You just need to wield it the right way.” He finally nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, like a coiled spring ready to release at the perfect moment. “Fine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll wait… but only until the time is right. Then… everyone who looked down on me, everyone who took what’s mine… will pay.” Marianna reclined in her chair, letting her smile linger just enough to remind him of the lesson beneath the threat. “Good. Remember, Liam… everything is a game. And the winner is the one who waits the longest without losing focus. Don’t forget that.”

Then he himself will be either killed or forever exiled from his family. Things aren’t meant to be like this. Then, he opens his eyes. And pulls the trigger. --- SOoooooo the book is finished! This was Part I of the Games We Play series; ACT I: Awakening. I will post information about the second part, which will be a separate story, in the next chapter tomorrow, and then some links where you can get the ebook/paperback if you'd like on a****n the day after that! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed :)

I shouldn't call him I have to piss him off calling him would only bust his ego, maybe I should play some mahjong while waiting for him to call, if I am distracted I won't think time isn't passing that soon. I nodded Ina agreement before I started playing mahjong for some reason hearing the sound of wind blowing the leaves and bird chirps is so satisfying as I played the game, I stopped playing and checked my calls again in case I didn't see it... But he still hasn't call. I yawned slowly stretching my hands before I lay down on the bed he would call I just have to wait for a few more minutes... But what's even taking him so long. My eyes slowly began to close themselves as I continued playi

As an Alpha, I had full control over her. She stopped and turned around, closing her eyes as she waited for something. She expected me to say something, but what? "What are you doing? Where are you running to?" I questioned. She opened one eye and then the other. "I was waiting," she stammered. I rolled my eyes, growing impatient. "Spit it out. I don't have much patience." "I was waiting for you to reject me,"

The games would be exciting if I got to play for fun, but sitting here for the next few hours in the sun while waiting for the four packs to decide my fate for me was tedious. Especially when I couldn't get Greyson out of my head. I didn't even have it in me to care who would win. It could be anyone besides Ethan, and I would be happy. Looking over my shoulder, I sighed at all the delicious-looking food at the booths and decided then that I would be doing my waiting over there while I stuffed my face without Man-Bun here to make comments about my food. The packs began to grow restless, shifting on their feet as they waited for their king to release them and begin the games.

I will celebrate today. The waiter came and asked me to order. " By the way? What is cooking in the kitchen? " " Nothing ma'am, but the cook will make whatever you want," he replied. " What do you mean that nothing is getting cooked. The people living next door haven't ordered anything? " " No ma'am, sir just asked me to bring three plates. " " Three plates?? Empty plates?? No food??" " Yes ma'am." Strange..... " Ok, get me Paneer Butter masala and 2 lachchha paranthas. "

He became the person Elijah had seen from the beginning, the person Elijah had trusted existed even when there was no evidence, the person Elijah had waited for. The waiting had been the thing. Elijah had waited. Through the contract and the months of proximity and the distance and the apology and the key and the proposal and the wedding and everything after, Elijah had waited. Not passively—actively, choosingly, with the full force of his attention and intention. Elijah had waited by staying. Elijah had waited by showing up. Elijah had waited by refusing to accept the Ice King as the whole story.