Write Story Novels & Stories

“He has no reason to. You're so careful about what you say that sometimes I think you're more afraid of him than I am. The black eyes gleamed. — What do you think of my brother? I bet you're scared to death of him too. — Enough, Nizea . Fleur remembered it was the teacher and rose with authority . “You're getting too sassy. I better go. His voice shook. “I didn't mean to be bold. It's just that when we're away from school, it's hard to think of you as my teacher. I consider her one of my friends. Fleur couldn't resist the praise and the sincerity with which it was said: “If you want me to stay with you, we need to do something. — I wrote a story last night. My leg was hurting and I couldn't

I suddenly started to feel nervous. "Hi Amarachi, I'm your literature teacher. My name is Miss Ada. Welcome to Crownstar highschool." I smiled at her. "So who doesn't have a seat partner? A girl raised her hands and Miss Ada asked me to seat with her. She started teaching and that was when I remembered that I didn't collect the pen my mum bought. I didn't want to ask anyone for a spare pen but then it was my first day at school and I did not want to start skipping notes. I asked the guy at my front for a spare pen but he didn't have any one. The girl beside him smiled and gave me a pen, I thanked her and started writing.

My brother by blood, Eric Wilson, was having an affair. I found out about it. However, I chose not to tell his wife. Instead, I blackmailed him into buying me three luxury handbags.

I smile at my daughter and say, “Over medium, please.” Then she looks at Gabriel, fighting a smile. “Can you eat better than you can dance?” The girls erupt into laughter, and Gabriel holds his hands up in defeat. “Look at it this way, ladies: I gave you a great story.” Britanya looks between me and Gabriel and winks. “Doesn’t seem like the story’s over.”

Those in the comment section went on a commenting frenzy. "I guess the female lead finally recalled the male lead telling her a few days back about his rich aunt. He claimed that if they got married, they could convince her to invest in Sutherland Group." "I mean, the female lead is so preoccupied with the supporting male lead that she couldn't even care less about that. In the end, the male lead even went so far as to make up a lie about her being pregnant and played the role of the homewrecker." "You must be a long-time fan of this novel. You're late to the party, though—the plot has already completely derailed!"

Back then, I told myself they were just like family, so there was no need to get jealous. However, all those little signs I had ignored played back in my head, over and over. When she came back, we launched our design studio. I landed a whale of a client, a deal that put us on the map overnight. On the night of our big bash, I had one too many and wanted her to pick me up. I called over and over, but got nothing. Finally, a coworker ended up driving me home. The morning after, she came to me with puffy, red eyes, spilling the story of how Yoel was heartbroken, how he had drowned his sorrows in booze at the bar, and how she had stayed with him through the night.

“Hard and deep, for hours, until she screams herself hoarse with pleasure. They say his cock is thick as a man’s wrist and he never tires. And the blessings… gods, her family’s fields burst with grain, their coffers overflow with gold, and every child born after is strong and beautiful. Who wouldn’t want to be the one he chooses?” I had stood ankle-deep in the stream, scrubbing a tunic in silence while my stomach twisted. I wanted none of it. Not the beast. Not the endless rutting they described like some holy ecstasy. Not the fate of being dragged away to whatever shadowed lair he called home, to be claimed and bred and kept like a prized possession. I was nineteen summers old. My fingers w

I tried to be empathic. "What happened?" I asked. Celie came and placed some ice in our drink. "Good news," she said. "If you're fired, here have some ice for the burn." "Leave her alone!" I exploded. Karmen slumped down again, resting her head on top of her folded arms like grade-school girls do during detention. From down there, she narrated what had happened.

I understand. "The one you wrote is called Love Story. Why did I say that it's a love story? It's because it didn't have any happy ending. Love Story is a Subgenre of Romance. It's a kind of genre with a different story point and goal to achieve something love is at stake, then it has a cruel ending at the end. Love Story shows the couple's growth and challenges in their life, which complicating with affairs." He explains, and then he sits down while staring at me. I nod at him, and it's my loss.

Can't wait to get started. ##################### Disclaimer: Please note that this is just a story and it doesn't define how any kind of relationship should be. This story is purely fictional and does not have any connection to any actual story or any persons lives.