Novel & Cerita Waiting On Him Quotes

"Alpha Marcus. Healer Quinn is waiting for you upstairs." Julian watched them. His whole world spun. That man had the VIP pass Julian was dying for. That man could just walk right in. To see his Harper. Raw jealousy, sharp as snake fangs, sank into his heart. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. Blood welled from his palms, dripping like scarlet petals onto the perfect white snow. Hours ticked by. Alpha Marcus didn't come out. Julian spotted them laughing together in the lobby. Despair and rage boiled inside him. He was losing his damn mind.

He reached across and took my hand. His thumb moved across my knuckles, slow and deliberate. "I know," he said. Two words. Exactly as simple as they sounded. And it meant everything. "I am not asking you to leap, Sera," he said. "I am not asking you to match what I said or to feel something on a timeline that serves me. I am asking for the chance to build something. One day at a time. One honest thing at a time." He held my gaze. "I will wait as long as it takes. Not because I am patient by nature, I am not particularly, but because what is on the other side of the waiting is worth the waiting."

"He's been waiting for you." The office was quiet around them. Nia looked at the window. At Chicago doing its Wednesday morning thing outside unhurried, unsentimental, entirely itself. She thought about Seren's Is it my fault. About I want to believe you* and the four words that had cost everything. About a man sitting on a forensic report for twenty four hours waiting for the right moment because he understood, finally, that the report was not the point. Her phone buzzed on the desk between them.

The rain was pouring, yet I heard every word he said. “You don’t have to answer right now. You can give it a day, a month, or a year to think it through, but I want you to know that someone’s waiting for you, someone who’s waited for you twenty-two years. And from now on, he wants to be by your side.” I looked at him and suddenly recalled that night at the Black family’s annual banquet, when I pushed open the door to find him. He, who was reading in the study, looked up, startled when he saw me.

"I am waiting for someone, can you give me an hour. It's not like I can run away." “I have waited 200 years for you, I can wait for an extra hour.” He said, sipping his drink. She nodded and hoped Serena would arrive soon.

“That’s what I’m figuring out.” “That’s not good enough.” “I know, but we are getting close.” Silence again. Heavy. Pressing. I looked back at the screen. At the words. “They said ‘give us what we want,’” I whispered. “That means they expect you to respond.” “I won’t.” “What if they don’t wait?” “They’ll wait.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” I turned to him. “How?” “Because if they wanted to act immediately, they wouldn’t send a message.”

Watching and waiting. . . . Watching and waiting.

The only truth I had offered him. I watched him from across the room, my heart aching with each passing minute. He waited so atiently, hour after hour. The waitresses approached him multiple times, offering to take his order and each time he politely waved them off, telling them he was waiting for someone. Finally, he gave in, ordering just a glass of something, his gaze still fixed on the entrance, in the hope that I would walk through it. My heart cracked a little more with each passing second, seeing his unwavering patience and his quiet hope despite the late hour. He reached for his phone and scrolled through, he seemed to be busy and I wondered what he was up to.

I admitted “What a mess…” "Do you think you'll ever be able to do that?" he hugged me even closer "To decide?" "I don't know," I sniffed. "I don't know how long it might take." "That's not a problem for me." I could hear the smile in his voice "No matter how long you need... And no matter how long it takes... I'll wait." "That doesn't seem fair to you. You deserve better than spending your life waiting for me."

"After you were already asleep. I didn't wake you because you needed the rest, and I know that was probably the wrong decision, but that's why I made it." He sat up straighter, wincing slightly at the movement, his expression shifting from concern into the sharper, more focused state he moved into whenever something required his full attention. "What did it say?" I picked up my phone from the windowsill and held it out to him. He read both messages — mine and the reply — and his jaw tightened in the way I had come to recognize as controlled rather than reactive. "Someone who has been waiting a long time," he said, more to himself than to me. "And they signed it with the letter A."