Those Who Remain Novels & Stories

All rights reserved ⚠️ . Assalamualaikum doston ! Hola family ! I hope everyone is safe and fine. We are living in difficult crisis, this covid second wave is destroying our lives but still we are fighting against it. I hope you guys are taken vaccine alreay if not please register and take it as quickly as possible. It's only temporary solution we have right now and we shouldn't neglect our lives. Please stay safe guys. *This is my second book here, I hope you will love this too.

"The distribution runs parallel. It doesn't stop because we're moving on the facility."She held my gaze. "Forty three." She said."Yes." I said."All of them." She said."Not all of them." I said. "The youngest stay here. The ones still recovering stay here. Astra stays with them." I looked at Astra. She opened her mouth. "Astra stays." I repeated.She closed her mouth."The ones who can fight." I said. "The ones who have been waiting three years for this specific thing.

"You stayed." Morwen nodded. "For centuries. I did not know that was what I was doing. I thought I was waiting. But waiting is passive. Staying active. Staying is a choice." Seren, who had been writing in her notebook, looked up. "The watcher stayed too. For centuries, it watched. It could have looked away. It chose not to." Clara took a breath. "We all stayed. That is why we are here." --- The next morning, they continued toward Asterveil.

The representative who had remained inside the process after the result looked at her. “We said we would stay for the record.” “I know.” “That does not mean everyone is staying in the pack.” “I know that too.” His gaze sharpened. “You sound very calm about it.” Hallie looked at the people behind him. “I’m not trying to convince anyone to stay.” That surprised him. “Then what are you doing?” “Making sure staying or leaving is still a choice.” Before he could answer, a raised voice cut across the room. One of the winner’s supporters stood near the work records with two others beside him.

just then Beth, my father and my mother stand up on the porch to make an announcement. "i hope everyone has enjoyed the party so far but we are going to be having another private event and we need people that are not close to Ren to start leaving you know who you are... the ones that are supposed to be staying we also who who you are" my father says. and people start to leave. thomas leans over and whispers. "are we supposed to stay?" "yes you dip were supposed to stay here. the only ones that stay are us and the worriors that we brought with us and Rens friends are supposed to stay" i whisper back hoping Ren didnt hear us.

"He is just the loudest one." "How many of these are the same people as the ones who are waiting to decide?" I ask. "Some overlap," Rowan says. "Not all. The ones who are waiting are keeping their opinions quieter. These on the list are the ones who have already decided and are not hiding it." "I want a second list," I say. "The ones who have said nothing hostile and nothing positive. Just nothing." Rowan looks at me. "Why?"

“You always do.” Theo looked at them. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “I can’t. This is home. This is where we are. This is where we’ll stay. Even if it hurts. Even if it’s empty. Even if Mama never comes back.” Amara looked at him. “I’m staying too,” she said. “I can’t run. I can’t leave. I have to face it. I have to live in it. I have to remember.” Kai looked at them.

I notice who lingers. Not the loud ones. Not urgent. The ones who remain are usually those who understand that what matters often happens after the agenda dissolves. They talk in smaller clusters, voices lowered—not out of secrecy, but consideration. Ideas are offered without expectation of adoption. Suggestions float, touch down briefly, lift again. I don’t facilitate this. I never have. My role, if it can be called that, is simply to remain present long enough that people remember they are allowed to think together without arriving anywhere in particular.

The last time I saw Owen, outside the police station, he gave me four words: "Take care of yourself." End of story. --- The car plunged into the tunnel. The world went dark except for that warm amber glow inside. Then—a blinding flash of white from my phone. Unknown number. "Hello?" It was Owen. "You left something here. Can we meet?"

Not loud. Not dramatic. Heavy. “We are what remains,” another says. “Of what was meant to exist.” They move slightly as they speak. Not shifting position, just adjusting in a way that keeps the circle whole. No gaps. No weak points. Seven pieces of the same intention. “They call us the Remnants,” one of them says, almost amused. “Like we are leftovers. Like we are less.” The smile fades. “We are closer to the truth than any of them.” I feel the pull then.