Worry A Novel Novels & Stories

Chapter 139 – The Stark Warning The sun dipped low over the city's skyline, painting the buildings in hues of crimson and amber. Clara's apartment, overlooking the bustling streets below, felt more like a cage than a sanctuary. Her instincts thrummed in her chest, a low hum of anxiety that had returned in full force. As an writer and publisher, she had grown accustomed to the feeling. It was a warning, a primal echo pushing her to pay attention, to dig deeper.

“The ground trembled. Like the academy itself was… breathing.” I looked up from my book. “Maybe it’s just the storms. Or the old magic failing.” He frowned. “Wards don’t fail like that. Not all at once. Not without cause.” I closed the book in my hand. “Maybe the cause is something we can’t see.” He stared at me. “You’re not worried, are you?" “I am,” I said. “But not in the way you think.” “In what way, then?” “I’m worried that someone’s going to blame the wrong person.”

" Every day, lines of diary were written to show Ancanta's perplexity. The notepad was steadily filling up with the words she scribbled in it. Each page of the journal reveals her worry and scary for the uncle she so adores. "Humans are like that; they are always worried about seemingly insignificant things yet don't know how to appreciate what they have." Ancanta was lost in thoughts when he noticed the proprietor of the bookstore washing his old books. Ancanta immediately realized that she was standing in the "Bonjour" second-hand bookshop, which she had discovered while going down the street.

Pov Andrew The lack of news was killing me every moment; I had to deal with Emma's disappearance and the likely betrayal by my own uncle. I paced back and forth in the office, searching for answers to everything that was happening. “Don, we'll figure this out. We'll get the money back and find Emma,” Lorenzo suggested, attempting to calm me down. “I don't give a shit about fucking money, Lorenzo. That's the least of my concerns. My worry is having a backstabbing uncle and my pregnant wife in his hands.”

Hello readers We managed to update 18 chapters for Wonderings. We're trying our best to speed up the updates so we appreciate the patience and understanding. After we're done updating Wonderings, we'll be able to work on the next novel which is Shards of Time. We'll be able to update all of the remaining chapters to keep it up to date. Once again we apologize for the slow progress, author-nim is still in the hospital. We're working on author-nim's save files that's why we're still able to upload and edit the repeated chapters.

I dodged her hand, feeling revulsion that rose up so suddenly I had to fight to keep my expression stoic. “It’s simply work at the hospital,” I shrugged. “Nothing to worry about." “Right,” her smile faded a little. “It’s just, you haven’t come home for a while. Everyone’s worried about you, even me.” Worry? It took all I could to not burst into laughter at her words. She worried I would throw a wrench into her plans,probably. But worry for me was nothing more than not being able to see her pawn. But suddenly Alaric’s voice rang out and we both froze.

Both of his feet were on the table while his hands were at the back of his hands. “Are you worried about the alpha king?” “I’m not.” “You are. I can see it in your eyes. You are thinking about him, right?” “It does not matter, Sir Elijah.” I arranged the books and pencils and set them aside. “I think that is all for today. My mind can’t focus, Sir Elijah. I am sorry.” Lifting his feet and putting them on the ground, he faced me. “It’s normal to worry for his safety. His late personal slave nearly died of worry when he went three days missing.”

"And after what just happened back there, they will be looking. Soon." His phone had been confiscated the day he was arrested, along with everything else that used to make up his life, and he had no idea what waited for them — whether his landlord had cleared the place out, whether Voss's people had already been through it, or whether anything of Daniel's box survived at all after everything that had happened since that night at their mother's kitchen table. The service road curved sharply, and through the rain-streaked windshield, Ryan caught his first glimpse of distant lights — an actual town, actual people living actual lives with no idea what had just happened a few miles behind them.

But by the third day, worry won. I drove to her apartment straight after work, heart pounding the whole way. I knocked…three sharp raps— then waited, shifting my weight like some nervous kid. The door opened. She stood there in oversized sweats, hair in a messy bun, eyes a little red like she hadn’t slept much either. For a second, neither of us spoke. Then I stepped forward. “I was worried about you,” I said, voice rougher than I meant. “You disappeared. No word. I thought—”

It was normal that he couldn’t show up every night. It was normal that his life didn’t revolve around me. But then… Why did my chest hurt so much? Why did I keep looking at that door? Why did it seem impossible to think about anything else? I swallowed hard. Maybe because I was worried. Yes. That was it. Worry. Just worry. But a cruel voice inside my head immediately argued back. Liar. That had stopped being a simple worry a long time ago. The truth was much more complicated. Much more frightening.