When We Were Strangers Book Novels & Stories

The scarf was on the hook. And the stranger who had stayed was standing beside him in the kitchen in the October evening, cooking dinner in the warm ordinary extraordinary inhabited life that they had chosen and were choosing and would continue to choose, one attended day at a time. The door had been left open four years ago on a rainy night. Neither of them had closed it. They never would. End of Chapter One Hundred

he groaned as my walls clenched on his digits, but he kept the fast pace. His deep raspy voice heightened the feeling and I trembled as the waves of heat and light washed over me. His voice lingered in my mind. I couldn’t think straight but I was sure this was not because of the alcohol. I was captivated by him, craving only him. The stranger watched me as he removed his fingers and I arched my back from the sensation. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to complete, yet wanted me broken at the same time.

My steps slowed. Just slightly. Damn it. My mind started replaying everything in slow motion. The way her hand instinctively rested on her stomach. The way her eyes followed me. The way she didn’t say a word. Didn’t call my name. Didn’t come after me. My throat tightened. So that’s it then. We’re strangers now. The realization settled in, cold and suffocating. Strangers who once shared everything. Strangers who once— I stopped walking. Right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

Now the world felt like it had cracked open just slightly—enough to let something unfamiliar seep in. Crystal sat on the low stone wall near the marketplace, legs swinging back and forth as she watched the village buzz with activity. Drums echoed faintly from the square. Vendors shouted prices. Children ran past her in clouds of dust and laughter. And there he was again. The daddy stranger. He stood near the elders, tall and unmistakable, his presence commanding without him trying. His clothes were too clean for the village, his posture too straight. He listened more than he spoke, but when he did speak, people leaned in.

Didn't know I was going to explain to her. "Ava, did you hear me?" she said when she realized that I was lost. "Oh yeah, I heard all you said," I replied with a smile. She was like the only family I had. I needed to let her know what was going on. "I am getting married soon to a stranger," I said in a cold and calm voice "What? Why are your parents so heartless?" she said angrily, knowing fully well that my parents were the ones who arranged the marriage. Just then, Clara Wilson walked in. "Oh! You are here telling people about your useless life."

I said. Her shoulders dropped a little. "I thought..." she started. "What?" I asked. "I thought this would bring us closer " she said. I answered honestly. "It brought questions " I said. She stood up quickly. Walked to the window. She wrapped her arms around herself. Looked outside. "When did we become strangers?" she asked. I did not answer. Because I really did not know. Maybe we had always been strangers just pretending to understand each other. She turned back to me.

" I don't even understand this drama you're pulling right now. It's been years. You should have gotten over this... guilt? I don't care what it is. You should be living your life. Like I'm trying to right now." David's mouth opened to say something but nothing came out. So Clive continued. "You and me were strangers then. And I believe that even now we still remain strangers. Now what do strangers do when they bump into each other? They don't do anything. They go their separate ways as always. So what's stopping us from doing that right now? Huh?" He started to walk away thinking this was finally the end of everything. But it wasn't so because David had now regained his speech.

Their expression was calm but tinged with urgency. “You’ve come far,” the stranger said, their voice layered with echoes that reverberated through the very fabric of the room. “But your journey is far from over.” “I’m tired of riddles,” Jessica shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Tell me what I need to do.” The stranger tilted their head slightly, as though considering the question. “Do? There’s nothing left to *do*. Only to decide.” Before she could respond, the books began to fall from the shelves, each landing open at her feet. Pages flipped rapidly, revealing fragments of lives lived and lost, choices made and undone. Some showed moments of triumph; others depicted failures so profoun

"You don't need to force yourself to tell me anything." "I made a really big mistake last night." Slowly, with her friend's empathy, she mustered the courage to confess what she did. It was indeed a mistake, but she could not deny the fact that it was her decision that caused it to happen. If she had not been impulsive last night, she would not have been in such a dilemma. "We all make mistakes, Vi. No matter what happens, I'll be here for you." Via hugged Cassie tighter, afraid that her friend would change once she heard what happened. "I slept with a stranger last night."

— A Stranger By the time I was done reading, tears had built in my eyes. How could a stranger be so good with words? Why did he have to leave this letter behind and write it so perfectly, it felt like I am actually cared for. I wiped my eyes as the tears threatened to stream down my face. I couldn't feel this much emotions for a stranger whose plan was to use me as a human incubator. I shut my eyes to take a hold of myself.