Too Late Novels & Stories

He choked. It was the first time I had seen him so helpless. "I'm sorry I came too late." I smiled. I had no idea he knew how to apologize. He held my hand tightly as he teared up. "We'll have another baby. I promise you that." I pulled my hand away gently and said calmly. "I know. Maybe you should leave the room first." I turned away with my back facing him and did not say another word. Stefan was silent for a long time before he finally closed the door softly behind him.

For three years, Julian Hart has been Larkmoor's idea of the perfect husband. 7:00 a.m. — He gets up to make breakfast. Vivienne Sterling eats only whole-wheat sandwiches, so he goes out early for the freshest ingredients. 9:00 a.m. — He ties her shoelaces and sees her off. 10:30 a.m. — He cleans their mansion, waters the plants, and straightens her study. 3:00 p.m. — He organizes her walk-in closet and jewelry and irons her clothes. ... 10:00 p.m. — The bath he's prepared is at precisely the right temperature when she arrives home on schedule. As Julian helps her out of her coat, he catches the faint smell of tobacco on it.

It was full and tight, the belly of a woman five months along. "No," I whispered. My hand shook as it pressed against the curve. "That is not possible. I was seven weeks. I am only..." Odette smiled. "The silverroot quiets your wolf, and it wakes the babies. Every night, they grow faster. By tomorrow's dusk, they will be ready." "Ready for what?" "To be born." The floor tilted. I gripped the back of the chair so hard that the wood creaked. "You are lying."

She had erased her footprint so thoroughly it felt as though she had never walked the earth at all. Lucian's breath hitched. He ran into the small bedroom, kicking open the door. The bed was bare. On the tiny side table lay a small wooden box, left wide open. Inside was the cheap wooden horse Leo had burnt in the projection—or rather, its ashes, swept neatly into a glass vial alongside a tiny lock of soft, golden hair. Below the vial was a piece of parchment with just four words written in Lyla's elegant script: ‘You are too late.’

My father asked Matteo, his new son, with whom he was well pleased. I, too, was well pleased. "Elyra," Matteo said. "Yes, Elyra lost both her parents. She lost her mind, and she had been here for three months. She's better now, might even get discharged. You don't have to wait the three-year tenure. You can be out of here in two months, maybe a month." I scoffed at his flimsy attempt to help me feel better.

Gotta go (emoji) Call you later. Isn’t it expensive to call? So, so. But I don’t care We can text each other. But I wanna hear your voice Fine, me too Talk to you later Ok Love you! Love you too! Why doesn't the time pass quickly?

Chapter 1 - Who the hell owns these death devils? --- "Is it too late now to say sorry? Cause I'm missing more than just your body. Is it too late now to say sorry? Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah. Is it too late to say that I'm sorry now?" I sang completely off-tune to Justin Bieber’s song, tapping my foot on the floor of the car as my fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

i realized i was so stupid back then so i'll try fixing it. thak you once again and see you later. and this is not a goodbye

Though I was making that promise at sixty, I felt it wasn't too late. It can never be too late. Better late than never, righty? **** A/N : Yes! So what do you think, guys?

Good and not too late, I still have enough time to reach my next target. Check the time: 10:58 p.m. Good and not too late, I still have enough time to reach my next target.