What Do You Want From The Notebook Novels & Stories

"One more thing. Ms. Rena isn't as careless as you described. She's someone thoughtful and gentle. Before your birthday last year, she asked me for advice on choosing a watch for you." His eyes fell to Josh's bare wrist, then he added with a faint scoff, "But it seems to me you didn't care about it at all."

Here with Vincent and my children. I have finally gotten What I Want! ‐-----------

Well actually it says dick head. Sighing, I swipe up to answer. “What do you want from me?” “I just want you to give me the chance to explain everything. Will you please hear me out?” “Fine. I am about to head out to get something to eat. Meet me at Olive Garden in 30 minutes.” “Ok. Done. See you then.”

“What the heck am I doing? Yada isn’t here. No one is watching me, and I'm talking to myself for no reason.” She touched the gray patch just above her right eye before ripping the package to shreds. “Let’s see what game we have here.” Examining the notebook, carefully, she recognized Yada’s handwriting. “Okay, Yada or whoever wants me to think this is from Yada, you have my full attention. What do you want to tell me?”

I get up from the couch, and my gaze darts on the thing lying on the armchair. It's Prince's notebook. Wondering if it's something important that he forgot to bring, I walk closer to it. I feel guilty for looking into other people's stuff, but there's something urgent kicking inside me. I take the book and flip through the pages. Then my eyes widen. It's all about the presentation to get into the internship. He's written the notes here and there. The important points, the conclusions and what he has to say to convince the company.

I tapped it open. Aquarius. A familiar name. Loyal, consistent. Generous. He tipped more than most, sometimes more than I thought anyone would spend—and he’d asked, more than once, for a private video call. I always refused. No matter how high the offer climbed, my answer never changed. Because if this was about money, I already had enough. And if it was about something else, something physical—I wasn’t interested. Not now. What I wanted couldn’t be bought in tips or negotiated in messages. I wanted something real. Something close. Something that didn’t disappear the moment the screen went dark.

"You don't have any clothing in there? You have an entire bag for stationary?" "I need my notebooks," I reply defensively. I twist my lips at him in annoyance. Who is he to challenge my life? But then again, we're in this together. So maybe he should have a say? I dismiss the thought outright. Fuck that. I pick up my favorite notebook, a 300 page pink and white "monstrosity" as Emma calls it. It's gorgeous really, shades of pink crossing it with white flowers and rhinestones scattered over it.

Recommend later proximity trial if release proceeds. Aurora reaches for the notebook before I can finish reading. She looks at the page. Then at me. “They wanted to see if we would still find each other.” “Yes.” The word comes out flat, because what else is there to say? That somewhere under everything they did to us, there was still something they couldn’t fully break? Maybe, or maybe they just wanted to know how useful it would be when we did. Vane watches me too closely. I look up. “Why keep these notes?”

“Go ahead, open it.” She hesitated for a moment before pulling at the ribbon. Inside was a sleek leather notebook, engraved with her initials on the bottom corner. “I remember you always carried a notebook in college,” I said, watching her reaction carefully. “Thought you might need a new one for all the brilliant ideas I know you’ll have.” Her fingers lingered on the smooth cover, but her expression remained unreadable. “It’s thoughtful,” she admitted finally, her voice softer now. “But?” I prompted, sensing the hesitation.

Dahil ako lang ang nakakalam na ito’y diary, everyone else knows it as a notebook. Silence greeted me. Kahit alam ko na it was quite difficult to obtain the diaries through underground means, I still have my hope. I was about to give up, when the elderly gentleman, Mr. Eye of Notorary speak. “Are you talking about the Witch of Iceland Archmage?” My eyes almost sparkled, I restraint myself from showing any abnormal behavior and nodded calmly. “Yes, sir.” Mr. Eye of Notorary nodded. “I don’t have the whole notebook but only five pages of it, I’ll sell it you in 5 Nars.”