Novels by Unaraywishi

As I entered our rented house, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room. Ronald was seated on the couch, engrossed in a book, his presence a comforting anchor in the tranquil space.I couldn't contain my excitement as I approached him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Ron, you won't believe the incredible morning I had!"He looked up, his eyes meeting mine with curiosity. "Tell me all about it," he said, bookmarking his page and setting the book aside.Settling onto the couch beside him, I launched into the tale of my encounter with Neo—the shared connection, the laughter, the TikTok videos, and the heartfelt conversations that flowed effortlessly between us.Ron listened attentively, his expression a mix of interest and concern. "It sounds like you had a wonderful time," he remarked, a hint of a smile on his lips."Oh, it was more than wonderful," I gushed, remembering our morning filling me with joy. "Neo is amazing, Ron. We connected on many

**Time Gap: Several Years Later** The African savanna stretched before me, a vast and untamed tapestry of nature's beauty. The sun's warm embrace painted the landscape in hues of gold and amber, while the gentle breeze carried with it the symphony of nature's melodies—the rustling leaves, the distant calls of wildlife, and the soft murmur of a nearby stream. Seated on a blanket spread atop the earthy ground, I watched with a contented smile as our children explored the wilderness. Their excitement was palpable, infectious as they ventured into the unknown with the curiosity and wonder that only the African landscape could ignite. Our daughter's laughter filled the air as she playfully chased after a mischievous monkey, her eyes alight with youthful joy. Our son's voice joined the chorus as he pointed out the elephants bathing in a nearby watering hole, his face illuminated by the awe of discovery. A short distance away, Ronald worked with skilled efficiency at the grill, the aroma o

The aftermath of the confrontation with Uncle Ben weighs heavily on my mind. The tension in the air is palpable as Ronald, and I sit in our dimly lit living room, surrounded by the comfort of our home. Our children play nearby, blissfully unaware of the storm in our hearts.Ronald's face is a mask of determination, but I can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. I know he's wrestling with the consequences of the heist, just as I am. We had thought we were invincible, that no one could touch us, but Uncle Ben's actions have shaken that belief."What are we going to do, Ronald?" I ask, my voice trembling with uncertainty. "We can't go on like this. Uncle Ben won't rest until he's taken revenge."Ronald sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know, Dee. I know we've stirred up a hornet's nest, and we must be careful."As I watch our children play, my heart aches with worry. They are so young and innocent, and I fear our actions have put them in danger. We had thought we were prot

Uncle Ben's Point of ViewThe sun rises on a new day, but all I see is red. Anger consumes me as I wake up to the shocking discovery of the heist. My prized machinery, the very heart of my power within the mafia, is gone, replaced by a haunting note that warns of consequences. Ronald and Dee, once friends I thought I could trust, have crossed a line they can't come back from.As I read the words on the note repeatedly, my anger intensifies. "This is a reminder of the consequences of crossing Ronald." They've dared to challenge and humiliate me and will pay dearly for their treachery. The rage inside me threatens to explode like a volcano, but I must control it. I can't let my emotions cloud my judgment; I must plan this carefully.Strategic planning has become my sole focus. I know a confrontation with Ronald might be dangerous, and I can't afford to be reckless. I need to strike when he least expects it when he feels safe and secure.Gathering allies is my first step. I reach out to

The sun rises on a new day, casting a golden hue over the cityscape. As I step into the morning light, my mind races with the events of last night's party. The thrills of the celebration and the tension of Uncle Ben's unexpected appearance still linger in the air, and I can feel a storm brewing.I know I can't let Uncle Ben's intrusion go unpunished. My reputation in the mafia is at stake, and I can't afford to show weakness. I need to teach him a lesson he will never forget, something that will remind him of the consequences of crossing me.But as the excitement of the heist plans takes hold, I can't help but feel a tinge of unease. Dee senses my inner turmoil and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Ronald," she says softly, her voice steady, "I understand why we need to do this, but let's not lose sight of who we are. We're better than resorting to this kind of violence."Her words resonate with me, and doubt creeps into my mind for a moment. But I push it aside, reminding mys

The sun dipped below the horizon, glowing warmly over the vibrant decorations adorning the house. Guests began arriving at the much-anticipated South African heritage party, their eyes immediately drawn to the captivating tapestries and paintings that adorned the walls. Laughter and chatter filled the air as old friends reunited and new connections were forged. As the guests entered the kitchen, they were greeted by the enticing aromas that danced in the air. Ronald, beaming with pride, served platters of boerewors, marinated chicken, and tender lamb chops, each dish infused with the rich flavours of South African spices and cooking techniques. The guests couldn't help but marvel at the colourful array of dishes, engaging in enthusiastic discussions about their favourites and the unique tastes that defined South African cuisine. As everyone settled down at the beautifully arranged table, their eyes lingered on the African-inspired centrepieces and the traditional woven baskets fille

Aron's Point of View.Corridors seem to buzz with activity as constantly as I wander through the White House; there is no waste of time, and everything must be done with a sense of commitment. Every step somehow resonant with the floors, and while the orderliness is palpable, I know the storm rages inside of me, or maybe it has always been there since I was chosen to become the chief of staff of the President but also a man straddling between responsibilities and scepticism. It is early morning, and the sun streams through the windows in the West Wing; the luxury of the Oval Office envelopes me as I enter. Facing away from the President, the First Lady scowls at him as he leans at the Resolute Desk, which also looks anxious and tired. “Aron, come in,” the President says, waving me to sit on the chair opposite her. His tone is instead composed, but I can feel the growing tension. "What do we have?" I sit across from him, and my thoughts are torn in different directions. I pause fo

The climate in the room rises as hours count down to a critical moment of our assignment. Moving around the ill-organized table covered in maps and papers, the team gathers, standing in the midst of the preparations. Jake is looking straight at me, and although it is only for a few seconds, I can discern a shyness that does not often show itself. “How do you even manage it, Zea?” Jake’s voice is soft, his face intense. This is the question that was raised by the character: ’’Can I have fife being a mother and a killer at once?’’ I keep the mask of tolerance and resolve, and looking at him, I feel drained but decisively steady. “It’s give and take, really,” I say calmly. However, my voice has a tinge of sadness. There is a constant oscillation between duty and love; every decision is a burden, and every choice is a revolution that echoes throughout one’s life. Jake nods again, they stare at each other for a moment as if to finally register what has been said. ‘This is the story o

The morning sun shone warmly through the windows, painting the room with a gentle golden hue. Aron sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee as he engaged in lighthearted banter with our child. The sounds of laughter and the clinking of utensils filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to the start of the day."Come on, kiddo, finish your breakfast," Aron encouraged, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "We don't want to be late for school."Our child giggled, taking another bite of cereal before setting the spoon down with a satisfied sigh. "Done!"Aron grinned, ruffling our child's hair affectionately. "Good job. Now, let's grab your backpack and get going."As they prepared to leave, I stepped into the kitchen, a soft smile gracing my lips. Aron's presence had always brought a sense of stability to our lives, a steady anchor amidst the chaos surrounding us."Morning, you two," I greeted, my voice infused with warmth."Morning, Mom!" our child said, excitement dancing in their eye

Sitting at the kitchen table, I absentmindedly traced the grain of the wood with my fingertips, my gaze fixed on Aron. He was deep in conversation with our child, guiding him through math problems. His smile seemed strained, his eyes distant – a telltale sign that something was awry. A gnawing unease settled in my chest, refusing to be ignored."Is everything okay, Aron?" The question slipped out, tinged with concern that I couldn't quite conceal. His gaze met mine, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with a reassuring smile."Yeah, just a long day at work. Nothing to worry about," he replied, his tone steady but his eyes betraying a hint of hesitation.I nodded, trying to quell the unease that had taken root within me. It could be exhaustion, stress, or any number of reasons. But a voice inside me insisted that I delve deeper.I excused myself from the table, feigning the need to check on the simmering pot on the stove. As I stood before the furnace, my heart

As I drove aimlessly through the winding roads, lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts, I never expected to find myself here. It was a place that held so much meaning, yet belonged to a different time, a different version of my life. The house, once familiar and comforting, now stood in the hands of strangers.Curiosity compelled me to enter the yard, drawn by an invisible force that guided my steps. A pang of uncertainty washed over me as I approached the front door. How would these new occupants react to a stranger intruding upon their lives? But something urged me to continue, to confront the memories that lingered within those walls.I entered cautiously, only to be greeted by an unexpected sight—a loving family, with the elderly grandparents surrounded by their joyful grandchildren. Their presence in this place I once called home was a bittersweet reminder of the passage of time.Summoning my courage, I approached the family, hoping they would allow me a moment to reconnect with th

A wave of apprehension washed over me as I stood outside the grand doors of the president's office. My heart pounded in my chest, its rhythm mirroring the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of inner turmoil, torn between my love for Zea and the weight of my duty to the nation.Every step I took towards that meeting room felt like a step further into the unknown. The image of Zea's face, filled with warmth and tenderness, flashed before my eyes, reminding me of the love we shared. But at this moment, I knew I had to put that love aside. I had to set it on the shelf, like a cherished possession, as I confronted the grim reality that awaited me inside those walls.The truth that Lynn has uncovered has shattered the illusion of the woman I thought I knew. Love must take a backseat now, for the stakes are too high. Lives hang in the balance, and I must do what is right, regardless of personal sacrifice.The president's request for this meeting echoe