Things I Never Said Book Novels & Stories

And everything changed. *You weren't supposed to happen. Weren't part of any plan. You were. Are. The best thing that's ever happened to me.* *I changed the book because I wanted to write about what we had. Not to exploit it. But to. To capture it somehow. The beauty. The connection. The way you saw me.* *I should have asked permission. Should have told you. I know that. I have no excuse except fear.* *Fear that you'd say no. Fear that you'd think I was using you. Fear that I'd lose you before I had you.*

“Unless you can find a way to switch it off.” “Why did this happen?” I asked. “Why me?” “What exactly did you see?” Marcus asked. He seemed to be the only one interested in my predicament. “The beginning and the end,” I replied. “That makes no sense” Kieran replied gruffly. I sighed. “And you think it does to me?” I asked in anger. “I think I understand it now,” Dominic said and began to pace around. “The Book is called the Book of Untold Story. So,what if all you saw were stories that have not happened yet. Possibilities, like Marcus said.”

I slipped the bookmark between the pages before I closed the book and focused my full attention on Alex. “Do you really want to know?” “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” I hesitated. “I’ve never been to the movies,” I said softly. “Really?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Yeah.” His eyes darted over my face. “What else?” “I’ve never gotten drunk or went to a high school party. I’ve never smoked a joint or stole anything.” I paused. “I’ve never been to the mall to do some shopping with any friends.”

He strode over towards me, and yet again, I wasn't able to move away. "I think it's time we talk about why I'm really here," he said suddenly. "Agreed," I said curtly, not wanting to give too much away. "I read your book again. I have some notes," "Oh? You do?" I narrowed my eyes at him. That wasn't what I was expecting. "The ending for one, I didn't like it," "What didn't you like about it?" "The last line in the book was; 'you, me, and never us'. That was just so fúcking depressing,"

They were all adjusted alphabetically. He then randomly picked a book. ‘If I had your Face – By Frances Cha’ He read the title. He opened the book. On the first page, there was her name and a date written. The date when she either got the book or started reading it. He flipped through the pages. She had underlined some context. Marked notes somewhere. Scribbled replies to some lines. He laughed to himself. There was this line she had highlighted, “In New York, you can talk to anyone about anything at any time and have a conversation so long you'll fall a little in love with that person, and then never see them again.”

I will never survive it. Never.

Just bitter, hollow irony. "Of course you wouldn't know," I said. "You didn't step into this ward once in six months. I called you again and again. Told you Stella was hurting. Told you she missed you. And what did you say? You were busy. You didn't want rumors." I laughed under my breath. "So how'd you find the time to sit by your ex's kid every day? How did gossip suddenly stop mattering when you handed them a VIP room—when you used your power to steal someone else's kidney for him?"

Bennett's face turned ghostly pale, and he collapsed onto the ground. At that moment, everything clicked for me. A wave of revulsion hit, and I made a quick exit. Wade blocked my path out of nowhere, shaking his head and tutting. "What a spectacle! "Ms. Wallace, your ex is quite the character!" His incessant babbling got the best of me, and I stomped on his foot with my heel. Wade gasped in pain and hobbled after me into the car. The drive back to the office was quiet.

Not a declaration of love. “I never forced you to come with me. I remember telling you, you wouldn't be able to leave once you got into the car that evening. I gave you the opportunity to flee when I saved you from Mr. Williams, but you didn't... you chose to stay. And now, you are mine! Mine now and mine forever, so don't even dream of leaving, you are not going anywhere — what did I say?” The words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. How could he, of all people? The person who had always seemed so detached, so unapproachable.

he said. I took a drag. “I thought you said you could never be anyone’s wife.” “Life happens, Kelvin.” He was quiet for a moment. That specific Kelvin quiet that was never empty. “Anita.” “Don’t.” “I haven’t said anything.” “You don’t have to.” I turned to face him because facing away felt worse. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” He looked at me for a long time. Then quietly: “You used to sketch everything. Every room. Every person. You’d pull out that little notebook and—”