Romantic Novelettes (Under 12K)

The subway car doors slid shut with a hiss, locking out the noise of the crowded platform behind me. The train lurched forward, and I stumbled into my seat, clutching my worn-out purse like a lifeline. The neon lights above flickered, casting everything in a dull yellowish glow. I closed my eyes, letting the rhythmic clatter of the wheels lull me into a kind of daze. This was the end of a day I wished I could forget. Fired from my job, my rent overdue, and a broken relationship hanging like a ghost in the back of my mind—I felt like I had been stuck on a treadmill of regret and bad decisions for years now.
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Chapter 1: The Snow Globe’s Call “The snow globe shouldn’t have been mine, but maybe it was meant to be.” It was one of those days where the air seemed heavy with the possibility of something strange. I was walking home from work, feeling the weight of my usual regrets, when I saw the street … Read more

It was one of those quiet, golden afternoons that made Florence feel like a dream. The narrow streets glistened in the soft light of a setting sun, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. I wandered aimlessly, my thoughts heavy with memories I wished I could forget. A dull ache sat in my chest, the weight of past mistakes and choices lingering like a stubborn bruise. Read more

I never believed in fate until the day the book fell open in my lap. There, on a yellowed page in the heart of an ancient library, a handwritten note caught my eye: “If you’re reading this, we’re meant to meet. 1885. Town square. Midnight.”
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The clock in the town square struck thirteen, and with it, my journey through time began.

I was wandering aimlessly through the narrow, cobbled streets of Florence, the cool autumn air wrapping around me like a forgotten memory. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the buildings, and tourists milled about, snapping pictures of Renaissance architecture they barely understood. But I wasn’t paying attention to any of it. My thoughts were far away, caught in the endless loop of regrets and mistakes that had woven themselves into the fabric of my life.
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