Three And A Half Years Novels & Stories

“No, absolutely not.” I frown, “What do you mean absolutely not? A year is a sufficient amount of time for people to believe we tried to make it work.” I explain, and she shakes her head. “A year is an exceptionally long time, Cole. Six months.” She says, and I shake my head. “Too short, nine months.” “No, three months.” I sigh, and we glare at each other, “Fine, six months.” I concede striking out the clause and amending it to the new timeline. “You’re so stubborn.”

Today was supposed to be our third wedding anniversary. But we had never once celebrated it. Not even enough for me to remember it. I let out a long breath and finally replied to my friend. “He doesn’t need to file for a divorce. We never got our marriage license.” “What? You’ve been married three years, and Kit never made it official?” Her shock nearly blew out my eardrum through the speaker. Yes. The wedding was three years ago, and he had called off registering our marriage seventeen times.

she continued quietly, “I know you came days ago. But you are still my other half because fifteen years ago the day I first awoke, I met you first. We were together for three years.” “That’s impossible.” My voice cracked, confusion swirling harder. “If we’re to calculate it using my real age… I’m twenty-one. Fifteen years ago I was five. And I was in a coma from five years to eight years old The silence that followed felt endless. For three years?! The question hung in my mind, unanswered, shock and sorrow mixing until my throat ached.

he says casually. "It's a dangerous game you've suggested. I think it's a suitable stake." He considers for a moment. "There are three years left on the pledge, correct?" he says. "The same amount promised each year?" The fact that he doesn't know that for sure already makes me feel a little sick to my stomach, but I push down the feeling. "Four years," I reply. He slides his thumb back and forth across his stubble. "I'll give you one year."

"Three years." "Are you sure it's three?" I let out a light chuckle. He heaved a frustrated sigh. "Yes, three. They are not as successful as they used to be about four to five years ago but we can benefit from them also." I sat by the edge of the long table in the meeting room and my eyes were fixed on the floor. "I thought they said I was able to do nothing without the help of those bitches." I felt my finger going into my palm.

"You are so unfair!" THREE years have passed. There is no Fender. That promised to return to her. She is now eighteen years old, and a lot has happened in the three years she has been without the man. The trauma she experienced from the four men who were nearly rape them made her fearful of talking with men. Nonetheless, she learned to be brave.

It’s frustrating. “Since I will join this family for three years, I just thought of spending time together.” “It will just be for three years. We are just on contract,” Liam says, and unexpectedly, pain shoots at my chest. Right, I forgot about that. There is no need to travel as a family because it will be just for three years. He must have thought of me as stupid when I offered to reduce the four international travels to a measly two just so we could go out together.

“ Don’t you dare come any closer. Stay right you are. I expect an answer from your mouth, not your legs.” “ Baby calm down. It’s not what you’re thinking. This was a mistake. I was so stupid…,” he begged with his hand outstretched to me...expecting me to walk into his arms. “ You’re not answering my question, Jay. You’re really making this worse. I don’t want to...” “ Three months.. Just three months,” he responded quickly, cutting me short. Wow. Three months. Three months out of the three years we were striving to build our life together.

Evan quickly picked up the call, “Hello.” “Hey, it’s me!” Evan paused for a few seconds, “Have you made up your mind?” I choked. “I’ve thought about it. Five years is too long. I want to cut it short,” He listened and clicked his tongue. “Then, how long do you want?” I trembled uncontrollably. “Four years?” he asked I remained silent. “Three years?” I held my breath, “One year at most!” When Evan heard this, he could not help but sneered, “One year is too short. At least three years, $200 million a year is a great deal.”

Seasons came and went. Another year passed. To me, time had become nothing more than sunrises and sunsets, tides rising and falling. Before I knew it, I was already in my fourth year in Ardenia. Professor Peter Foster looked over my research findings, his face full of satisfaction. "Nathan, excellent work. You're the only one who's produced results in this field so far. There won't be any problems with your doctorate." I smiled. "That's thanks to your guidance, Professor."