Romans & histoires Watch A

The shark’s flat, grey-blue eye rolled over to look at Ava—a cold, indifferent assessment of meat that would, inevitably, fall into the water. On the other side of the one-way glass, inside the dry, climate-controlled observation deck, Landon Voss stood watching. He swirled a glass of vintage red wine, the crimson liquid catching the dim light of the control room. His gaze was fixed on the surveillance monitors that offered high-definition angles of the woman in the cage. His eyes traced the curve of her neck, the arch of her spine, devouring her image inch by inch.

Dad nodded, and a bodyguard slapped that colleague to the ground. "That's impossible!" Dad pulled out a tablet and showed it to everyone. "The person who really caused the mayor to miss the critical treatment window and led to the amputation is Melissa Cross. I have surveillance footage as proof!"

I had died for a year and was pushed to cross the River of Souls 99,999 times, but I could not do so as no one had given me a proper burial. The netherworld forced me to return to the mortal world for 48 hours to find someone to bury me, or my soul would vanish after 48 hours. They even started a livestream to make some income for themselves. On the first day of my return, my ex-girlfriend and the real heir of the family who hated me were about to get married. Netizens predicted that I would be malicious enough to crash the wedding for revenge, but all I did was sit in a small restaurant and order myself a delicious burger. While waiting for my food, the first sentence I said to the cam

The way said Callie earlier, almost groaning it, like he was realizing a need to be careful with me. And my mind starts to wonder how a person can be a part of someone’s life, like a spectator watching the experience, knowing all that they know about the other person’s life think about how much a person can know about someone else's life, and how long they can watch from a distance, without the other person ever knowing they were seen.

She had been watching. The way her mother had always watched. The focused complete attention of a person who paid full attention to what was in front of them and processed what they saw and arrived at the accurate understanding of it and said the accurate thing when the accurate thing was what the moment required. I thought about Aria at her desk. About eight months of watching from across a glass office and telling myself it was professional observation. I thought about Hope. About four and a half years of watching from whatever room she was in and learning.

Mia is nominally keeping them company and actually rehearsing a conversation in her head. She waits for a natural pause. Then, "what are we doing tonight? After dinner?" "Dinner and home," Alice says, without looking up. "Just the three of us." "What if we watched something in the media room? It's been months—the screen's probably forgotten we exist." Ethan looks at her over his coffee. "A film?" "Not a film." She edges slightly closer to her mother's side. "There's a match tonight. Global broadcast. I thought—you could watch with me. I always get nervous watching alone."

The smell of disinfectant filled the hospital corridors. Hedgar Stane’s parents wept in front of the burn unit’s ICU. But I felt as if there was a filter over my ears. The noise around me was hard to make out. My mother took my hand. “Henry, go keep Hedgar’s parents company. They need you.” I snapped out of my reverie and shook my dizzy head. At that moment, the attending physician walked out and solemnly told Hedgar’s parents to be prepared.

The Sheffield family is safe. [You've secured your three lifelong providers .] [Enjoy.] I turned off my phone and stuffed the last bite of apple into my mouth, making loud crunches.

Maya is already sitting up, already reaching for the remote, already understanding from the set of my face that what she’s about to see is something we cannot un-see. She watches the screen for exactly three seconds. Then she closes her eyes, just briefly just one breath and when she opens them again she is already somewhere else. Already working. Already the version of herself she becomes in a crisis. I watch her and I feel something I don’t have an immediate word for. Something close to awe.

She always jumps in when it gets bad but somehow still finds a way to laugh at me after. "You looked like you were about to throw the shaker at her face," she giggled as we wiped down the counter. "I live for this level of unbothered rage." I was mid-eye-roll when she suddenly nudged me. "Uh-oh. We've got a watcher at 10 o'clock," she whispered. I followed her gaze but didn’t see anything unusual,just the usual mix of suits, stares, and spilled drinks. "You seriously didn’t see him?" Amelia raised a brow. "Tall, looks like he owns the place even though he probably doesn’t. He’s been watching you for the last ten minutes."