Thirty But Seventeen Mga Nobela at Kwento

I gently stroked her rough, weathered face as a tear slipped from the corner of my eye. "Ruby." For the first time in thirty years, Ruby heard the voice she had longed for. A sob escaped her lips. "I'm here, Dad." I gently patted her head. "You're so much older now." She had grown old, too, but I kept those words to myself. From the looks of it, life had not been easy on her. Whether it was guilt that had haunted her for decades or the hardships she had endured along the way, the years had clearly left their mark.

The pain in his chest was real. The thirty days were almost over. And everything was becoming more complicated.

"Earlier." "I can smell it on you from here." She sits. Wraps both hands around her own cup. "I'm not going to tell you to stop. You're thirty four years old and you'll do what you want. I'll simply look at you the way I'm looking at you now every time I smell it." She looks at me. Well, It is a very specific look. I became immune to most human expressions of disappointment approximately fifteen years ago. My mother's is the exception.

A smile still lingered on her lips, her eyes shut. He held her shoulders to lay her down. Much to his surprise, Thera clung to his nape. He had to lean his hands on the bed to keep his balance. "Hey. . ." She snapped her eyes open. "I'm turning thirty next month. What should a thirty-year-old woman do to deserve lots of kisses?"

Jasper Eaton decides to ditch me at the altar just so he can meet up with Wendy Klein, his ex-girlfriend who abandoned him when he almost got crippled five years ago. All the guests are stunned, to say the least. I can only tug at Jasper's hem of his shirt while trying very hard to keep my expression intact. "Can you please stay with me now?" Mixed feelings cross his eyes, but he soon wrenches my hand off him, finger by finger. At the same time, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I must go now. I need to ask Wendy why she was so heartless to me back then." Amid the crowd's shocked gasps and murmurs, Jasper leaves without even looking back. My dad, who has a bad heart, trembles violent

“Olivia! We're trying to have a conversation, don't do this to me.” “Hey!” I shouted as Sebastian unclipped my bra through my T-shirt . “How did you even do that?" I smiled at him and he gave me a cheeky one in return. “You know I have a lot of shit, how prison fucked me up and my mental health. I just felt safe when Blake was there. Does that make sense?” I ran my hand over his gorgeous face. “I love that you never hide who you are”. I whispered our eyes fixed on each other. Sebastian went to prison when he was seventeen to when he was twenty one, two years before I met him. “It does make sense. He's your safety blanket.” I kissed his forehead.

Three lives. Three.

Three Months Long is a story set in Abuja, in predominantly two districts, Wuye and Jabi. Peter and Olivia are in love and want to have a future together. However, Olivia is older than Peter by a few years and already a graduate while Peter is still a freshman in the university . While Peter’s family is not perturbed about the difference in age and academics , Olivia’s family won't have any of it. Peter promises Olivia a forever love but will their love stand the stern test from their parents and the Nigerian society where it's expected for a man to be several years older than his partner? As the story unravels, love, fear, uncertainty, parental pressures determination, trust and values are

The call hung up after two seconds. After that, she tried video calling me, but the call also hung up after two seconds. As such, she had no choice but to continue messaging me. She wrote, "Didn't we agree to meet outside the civil office, Chad? Why aren't you here yet?" There was a reply to her message, "I said I wanted three million, but you only gave me five hundred thousand. Do you think that's enough to convince me? I won't divorce you until I get three million."

“No exceptions. No excuses. And no ending it early.” The room becomes still. Not in a big way. But enough. Thirty days. It’s longer than a joke. Long enough to be a problem. Long enough to matter. “And if I refuse?” I ask. Adrian’s eyes meet mine, steady and unbothered. “You won’t.” He’s right. Refusing would be… unnecessary. This isn’t a situation that needs avoiding. It’s a small problem. Easy to handle and temporary. Thirty days is not much in the grand scheme of things. And relationships— are not important.