Three Days 소설 & 이야기

“You weren't there so the deal didn't go through. I warned you this meeting was crucial.” “What?” I was surprised. “Well, what happens now?” I asked. I didn't want to sound selfish, or leave him stranded. “They've given us a 30 days grace period to redeem ourselves.” He said, his tone curt. “Us?” I asked, confused. I definitely wasn't interested in spending one more minute with this arrogant man. “Yes, us. You’ll have to continue as my wife for 30 days.”

You need to be careful Eric. ‘What? I have been out for three days?’ ‘Exactly.’ Three days! I wondered what could have happened in the three days I had been out. I guess the suddenness of everything must have taken a toll on me.

Just that I couldn't tell him any of them. Noah stared dumbly at me. “That’s not true.” He was starting to understand my lies now. I forced a small smile. “Then maybe I’m just tired.” He stopped in front of me, his hand lifting to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was gentle. Too gentle. It made my throat tighten. “Three days,” he said softly. “I won’t be gone long.” Three days. He had no idea how much could change in three days.

I say. He leans in and presses his forehead to mine. “No. Never.” I nod. “Okay. Then…I’ll try. I won’t push you away anymore.” His smile gets big, and he leans in for a kiss, but I put a finger over his lips. “Starting in three days.” “What?” He laughs. “Why three days?” “Because we’re leaving, right?” “Yes. Early morning in three days.” “If you kiss me right now, I bet Ezra is going to bust through those doors.”

I barely make it a few steps before his voice cuts through the space behind me. “Tell you what.” I hear the shift of movement—the soft sound of him getting up, the unhurried rhythm of his steps as he follows. “Give me three days of yourself.” I stop. Turn. “What?” My brows draw together, disbelief sharp in my tone. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stops in front of me, one hand slipping casually into his pocket like he’s proposing something completely reasonable. “Three days. Three dates.” His gaze holds mine, unblinking. “Not back-to-back. I get that you’re busy.”

Thirty days. One month. A single, heartbeat-stopping wager. Benjamin Parker was the sun. A golden-haired scholarship recruit with flour on his hands and a heart that he wore—vulnerable and beating—on his sleeve. He spent weeks chasing the school’s "Ice Prince," offering handmade tarts and a smile that could melt the coldest winter. He thought his persistence finally paid off when Jonathan Hayes—the obsidian-eyed, terrifyingly beautiful heir to a tech empire—pinned him against the school gates and claimed him in front of everyone. But the "Golden Romance" was a lie from the very first kiss. Jonathan didn't choose Benjamin because of his heart; he chose him because he was a convenient t

"And I'd rather die as myself than live as him. Promise me. All of you. Promise you'll do what needs to be done." They don't want to. I see it in their eyes. The refusal. The denial. The desperate hope. But finally, they nod. "We promise." Three days. I have three days left to live. Three days to love them. Three days to say goodbye. We spend every second together. Making love. Talking. Crying. Preparing. On the third day, I wake up different. Colder. Angrier. Wrong. "It's starting," I gasp. "He's waking up."

The Silent Third Floor Ten minutes later, I found myself standing in front of a room on the third floor. This floor was rarely used and far quieter than the lively party downstairs. My breathing was uneven. Logic told me to leave—to run as far away from this house as possible. But curiosity and Davian’s threat pulled me like a tightening noose. I turned the key. The room was dark, lit only by moonlight streaming through a large window. Davian stood there, staring outside. “You came,” he said without turning.

He read it silently. Then looked at her. “They moved my departure again.” Her heart sank. “When?” “Four days.” Lela stared at him. “Four?” He nodded. “That means we have three days.” Jack looked devastated. “I know.” Lela looked down at her hands. Three days. She had imagined seven. Now they had three. She took a slow breath. “Okay.” Jack looked at her. “Okay?” She nodded. “We have three days.” He reached for her hand. “And we're going to make them count.”

When I was deep in love, I traded fifty years of my lifespan to save my girlfriend. Seven years later, on our wedding day, the System notified me that I only had three days left to live. I called my girlfriend, hoping she wouldn’t be late so I could have closure. Then, a phone began ringing behind me. I turned around to see her dressed in a white wedding dress, though it wasn’t the one I had chosen for her. She was holding my younger brother’s hand, and with her head hung low, she said sheepishly, “Henry is terminally ill and doesn’t have much time left. His only wish is to get married. Can you compromise and let him have this wedding?” My father chimed