Through My Window: Looking At You Book Novels & Stories

Anna's POV I glanced out of the window, the rain pelting against the glass in a relentless symphony. The storm mirrored the turmoil in my heart as I tried to make sense of the events that had unfolded over the past few days. My life had taken an unexpected turn, plunging me into a dangerous game of survival. It started innocently enough, with strange occurrences that I dismissed as mere coincidences. A missed step on a slippery pavement, a close call with a reckless driver. But as the incidents piled up, their sinister nature became apparent. I was being targeted, and my life was in grave danger.

I had a corner I'd claimed without declaring it — the window seat at the far end, where afternoon light came in at an angle that was perfect for reading and the view outside was just garden and sky, no walls visible from that position if you sat exactly right. I liked that. The illusion of boundlessness, even a small one. I was deep in a novel — a nineteenth century one, naturally, a woman navigating a world that had been entirely arranged without her input — when I heard the door. I didn't look up immediately. Mara sometimes checked on me, and I'd learned her footsteps. These were different. Heavier. More deliberate. I looked up.

The library had become their unspoken meeting ground. No one ever arranged it — it just happened. Every time Leora walked in, she would somehow find him there, sitting by the tall window where the light poured like honey onto the pages of his books. Riggs always looked calm, detached, and lost in thought. Yet whenever their eyes met, there was a flicker — a quiet awareness neither could quite name. He always sat by the same window , where sunlight spilled like liquid gold across the desk. His silver-white hair glowed faintly under it, and his blue eyes — gods, those eyes — flickered up for just a second before returning to his book.

*** Caspian’s POV *** I winced as I heard a bottle shatter in the kitchen. Standing up from my lean, I looked out through the glass door. Shaking my head, I slipped the parchment paper in between the pages of the book I was currently translating. Walking around my desk, I opened up the door, the seal breaking as the door opened.

I got treacherous at the end of the entrance track where it met the main road, and something made me look up. Third floor of the pack house. The window at the far left of the building, the one that caught the morning light on the wrong side of the day and was therefore always slightly dim. She was standing in it with her arms at her sides, not pressed against the glass, or waving, not even performing anything. Just standing, and looking out…looking at me. I held it. Two seconds, exactly, the gates still open behind me and her in the window, plus the distance between us and the cold morning air.

( Vanessa’s POV) I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window in my study, the city's skyline Sprawling before Me like a kingdom I once thought I had absolute control over. The glow of the distant lights Stretched endlessly, flickering against the darkened glass, but they did little to Chase away the shadows tightening around me.

*Poppy* I sat on the edge of my bed, staring out the window at the sprawling landscape beyond the mansion's walls. The sun was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. It was beautiful and captivating, but I found no solace in the view. My mind was a tangled mess of worry and frustration, and the weight of uncertainty pressed heavily on my chest.

No, the curtains should have shielded me from view. His dark, piercing eyes swim through my vision. I shut my own eyes, but I can still see them. Asher has a way of looking through you. He shreds your defenses with a mere glance, until you’re exposed at his pleasure without any secrets to hide. Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself. I close the window fully. When I take one final glance out of it, the two of them are gone.

As Dahlia storms into the room, she screams, “How the hell have you been talking to people?” I laugh, “Nobody has been here. I talk to people in my sleep. Why?” She looks out the window and stops in her tracks. She is captivated by whatever memory she is seeing now. I look at all my siblings, and they are slightly smiling at me, knowing what the window is doing. I sit in my spot, on the floor, and wait as she continues looking out that window. Taylor, who is seated on the floor right next to the window, is watching Dahlia intently. Taylor looks at me, holds a finger to her eye and traces a line down her cheek to tell me that she is crying. I nod in understanding.

I know I'm reading the words but nothing is translating back - it's frustrating to say the least. I sigh, my eyes finding their way to the living room window. It's a relatively nice day out with only a few scattered clouds. I barely have time to register my movements as I'm abandoning my book and making my way on to the front porch. I'm not technically leaving the house. I'll stay close.