The Woman In The Window Book Novels & Stories

And just like that a blurry voice and an image that she assumed that was part of her memory appeared in her mind. 'A woman's worth is more than a man could never work for. A woman is a powerful person who gives light. A woman has been given a womb and a man's part and yet she can give life. A woman has been given a house and yet she made it a home that is full of warmth. A woman is someone who was given a simple thing but can give back precious treasures. A woman has never been worthless. Always remember you are a woman. And you are worth it"

She was betrayed by the people around her. She got out of the car and looked at the woman who was lying on the road. It was so dark in that area that only grasses could be seen on both sides of the road. Because there wasn't even a single pole there, only the car's headlights and the moon provided them light. It was, indeed, the ideal setting to end a war. "Elena, please.... don't do this," the woman said weakly. "Shut up!" she yelled angrily, pointing her gun at her.

It wasn't a soft landing when I fell through the book. I sat up quickly trying to gather what happened. Looking around it was a beautiful meadow with wild flowers lining the tree line. Not to far from me was a spring fed pond lined with rocks and a lone tree. I approached the tree when I see on the other side a bench with a woman sitting on it. I approached slowly on guard of who it could be. When I made it to the edge of the bench, slowly the woman turned towards me with a bright smile.

I was sitting close to the window while reading a new book, this time making sure to browse through the book and making sure I hadn’t taken one like the last. Though I doubt that was possible because Sin made sure to remove any books of that nature from the library shelf. I giggled, flipping the pages of the book I was reading, when the door of my room pulled open and a woman walked in. She was dressed in a sophisticated and elegant way. Her brown hair was tied up in a tight bun with little to no makeup on her face.

She sat close to the window, which her back against the door, she sat near the light, trying to improver her vision on the contents of the book. The name of the book was unknown to Richard, but all he saw was a lady who seemingly enjoyed every bit of the book, she got lost in it, she couldn't hear when the door opened, neither did she hear the footsteps in the room. Was she using the book to ease herself of Richard's absence? Was her mind too filled with thoughts of the danger of Richard and his men, and was Currently using the book to fill her mind with other thoughts? From what he still to observes, it seemed it did work. But before he could observe any further, he watched as she flipped t

My breath rushed out in a harsh gasp as I caught myself, palms stinging once more. Only then did I take it in properly: the wide room, walls lined neatly with books and files, the sleekness of a desk standing at its centre like a throne. A floor-to-ceiling window was cracked open behind the desk, to what appeared to be noon now, the curtains stirring slightly with the breeze… mocking me with the nearness of freedom. The room cramped in. Glossy wood, intentional order, and power appearing to be in every detail. Yet my eyes kept dragging back to the open window. Close enough to see, impossible to reach.

I went to take a shower after dinner. It was then that I suddenly saw a weird palm print on the glass window. Someone must have left that palm print behind with their soapy hand while taking a shower. The print was quite faint and white against the shiny glass on the window. It was obviously a woman's handprint, and it wasn't mine. My hand was a little bigger than this. So I couldn't have been the one who put it there. It couldn't have been my daughter, Bella Quinton, either. She had tiny hands and wasn't even tall enough to reach that spot yet. Also, it definitely did not belong to my husband, Rory Quinton.

A small fire crackles in the corner, filling the air with the scent of burning wood, and the walls are lined with bookshelves, each one packed with worn, well-loved volumes. A short woman stands by a table near the window, sorting through various jars and containers. She's older, with silver hair pulled back in a loose bun, and her eyes light up with a kindness I haven't seen in anyone else here. Judging by her scent, she doesn’t have any authority meaning she must just be a regular pack member. For a moment, I'm taken aback. She doesn't look at me like I'm some kind of threat or intruder. Instead, she gives me a gentle smile, as if I'm just another guest.

She brought one finger to her mouth and sank her teeth into it, all while her other hand trailed down the glass in one unbroken motion—from the rim all the way down the stem—like a slow drop of heat running over skin. Sht.* She was seducing me, and she knew exactly what she was doing. I took a long sip of my drink, refusing to break eye contact. But she wasn’t done. No, she tilted her head slightly, lifted the glass, and brushed it gently along her cheek with her eyes closed—like it was my hands she was feeling. I set my glass down. Enough. My chair scraped back and I stood, eyes fixed on the woman who just dared me to lose control.

Curious and slightly wary, and entirely unaware that the woman standing ten feet away from her had once counted her fingers in a hospital room and memorised every one. "Mama," Luna said softly. She was looking at Isabella. I felt a sharp pain pierce my heart. Isabella held her closer and turned away without looking at me again, and Elias followed, and the man by the laptop pulled the drive and pocketed it, and within two minutes the warehouse was emptying of everyone except me and the still, silent figure in the wheelchair by the far wall. The door closed. I stood completely motionless until I heard the cars outside start and pull away.