Those Who Wait Novels & Stories

After that, she tried to contact us again, only to find that every number had been blocked. Even our daughter, who had always obeyed her and done as she said, sent only one cold reply. "Professor Langley, we've left. Please don't disturb my dad and me again." Marissa smashed her phone. "Marissa, don't panic." Adrian Pierce had overheard some of the conversation, and a flicker of satisfaction passed through his eyes. "Mr. Duncan and Nora must be making all this up just to make you angry. "Where could they go? Tomorrow is orientation. They must have gone to Harrington early and are waiting for you to apologize."

Inside, Silas sat in the center of the room with his eyes half-closed and his hands on his knees and Maya three feet to his left, close enough, quiet enough. "What do you see?" she asked. "They're at the tree line," he said. "A lot of them." A pause. "They're waiting." "For what?" Silas listened to the network. "They don't wait because they're afraid," he said, with the particular flatness of someone reporting rather than interpreting. "They wait because he told them to." Outside, the frost came first — a creep of white over the iron gate, moving too deliberately for the temperature alone to explain it.

Astrid had a great time celebrating with Coco. At one point, Jerome went to her and asked, “Coco, Isaiah has been waiting for you at the entrance under the rain for five hours. Will you go see him? “I heard his medical condition flared up again a few days ago, and he had another operation done. He’s not doing well.” “No,” Coco declared firmly. After the party ended, Astrid took Coco downstairs and stumbled into Isaiah, who was still waiting outside. He had lost a lot of weight because of his illness, and his complexion had become sickly.

"I said one year. I'm four years late. Are you still waiting?" I didn't answer. I rose on my toes and kissed his scar. He froze for a second. Then he wrapped his coat around me, pulling me in tight, his chin settling back on top of my head. "Yes," I said. "I'll always wait."

Stаndіng thеrе wаіtіng іѕ a tеrrіblе fееlіng, full оf dread аnd ѕhаmе. Our blосk іѕ nеаrlу dеѕеrtеd, ѕо nоt mаnу реорlе drive раѕt; except fоr the rеgulаrѕ. I wonder whаt thе оthеrѕ thіnk when thеу ѕее me.

"That's unnecessary. I admit defeat." I sneered. So, he was getting cold feet now? Well, it was too late. "Suck it up and take your loss like a champ. If you don't show up, you're a coward." Half an hour later, Jack really showed up at Clock Square with an ashen face. There were hordes of onlookers surrounding us with their phones held high to record the scene. "Let's begin," I told him. He gritted his teeth, unlocked his phone, and logged into the Clock Square billboard application.

A faint smile broke through her tear-streaked face as she whispered through her sobs, "Thank you." After that, she looked up Cameron online, then spent the next two weeks waiting outside Cameron's residential area, only for him to never appear even once. That night, Bianca was dead set on waiting for Cameron. He was a no-show as dawn broke, though, so she despondently trudged down the street, the biting wind whipping at her face. She felt no pain, though, only the suffocating pressure in her chest, as if something inside her was collapsing.

And everyone was still waiting for the next thing to happen. The message remained on the screen long after the phone went dark. Jessica sat motionless. Thinking about Henri. Thinking about Philippe. Thinking about every person who had ever been told to wait. And for the first time, she found herself asking a question she would once have considered dangerous. What if waiting was the problem? The thought lingered in the darkness. Quiet. Patient. Growing. And somewhere far across the city, a frightened young woman was staring through a hotel window, wondering whether anyone would stop the man watching her.

The pain in my heart could wait. “We will attack. We will not wait until they find out. We will attack now and they won't expect

the ones who had attended his funeral, who had sent handwritten notes, who had voted against Mason's last three executive compensation packages with the quiet persistence of people who were waiting for a reason. She typed the same message to each. Clean, direct, no preamble. I have documentation and a strategy. I'm moving within the month. If you're in, I need to know now. There is no redemption later for those who wait. She put the phone down. Picked up her coffee. And waited.