Unscramble Quietly Novels & Stories

THE SOUND OF HIS RETURN When I get home, everything feels too quiet. The house is calm, but not in a peaceful way , it’s quiet . The door clicks shut behind me, echoing through the apartment like a reminder that I’m alone again. The faint smell of Daniel’s cologne still lingers somewhere in the air, mixed with coffee and dust. The curtains are half-drawn, letting thin bands of sunlight cut across the living room floor. My shoes come off with a dull thud, My heels scrape softly against the tiled floor as I step inside. I stand there for a second, just breathing, trying to make the world stop spinning. The guilt in my chest hasn’t left , it’s grown, swelling, pressing against my ribs until I c

I squeak out. “Shut up!”

"Xavier! Stop walking away from me!" Camila’s voice, usually a perfectly modulated, melodic hum designed for press scrums and charity luncheons, was tight, pitched with an uncharacteristic, raw fury. Her emerald silk gown swished aggressively against the marble floor as she hurried to catch up with him, her heels clicking like a countdown.

I unbuckled my belt, the metallic click slicing in the quiet. “Now.”

Leaning in close to my ear, Mary whispered, "I know it's really warm and comfortable, but don't fall asleep yet, okay? We haven't escaped the storm yet." I murmured softly in response.

The family froze, sensing danger still lingered. Abby whispered, “Stay calm. We face everything, together.” And with that, they returned home, not in silence, but in unshakable unity, prepared for the next wave, knowing that standing together was their only shield against both spoken and unspoken enemies.

“Careful!” Harry shoved past me, striding straight toward Chloe to catch her. I hadn’t expected it, and the impact sent me crashing into the sharp corner of the vanity table. Harry didn’t even notice. His eyes stayed fixed on Chloe’s stomach as he said with a trace of concern, “The doctor said your pregnancy isn’t stable. You need rest. Don’t move around so much.” Ignoring the searing pain in my back, my gaze locked onto the pendant in her hand. My voice trembled as I said, “Ms. Finley, that’s my mother’s keepsake. Please, give it back to me.”

Complete silence for what feels like an eternity. “…what?”

Quiet doesn’t announce itself. It settles. After the brightness, after the evaluation, after the constant calibration between what’s visible and what’s real, quiet feels almost radical. Like choosing to lower your voice in a world addicted to volume. I don’t withdraw from the world—but I stop racing it. Mornings slow first. Not lazily, but deliberately. I stop reaching for my phone before my thoughts. I give my mind time to catch up with my body. Coffee becomes a ritual again, not a prop between obligations.

she whispered meekly and tensed up. " Not so tense after all, it is much easier to learn when you are relaxed." There was an eager expression in his eyes and he let his hands slowly go lower, down her upper arms to her hips. Alissa sat petrified in her chair, she just couldn't move and prayed that he would finally leave. But the opposite happened, he pushed his hands on her bare skin along the waistband of her pants and then slowly upwards. He rubbed her breasts and squeezed hard. A scream of pain escaped her while he groaned with pleasure and began to massage her breasts. "They're so tight and firm, not like your mother's," he whispered in her ear. "Like Angela, soft and firm." Her friend's