In Along For The Ride Novel, How Does Insomnia Affect Auden’S Journey?

Aimee has spent her entire life surrounded by luxury, expectations, and a name that opens every door. But when her father moves them to a quiet town, she chooses anonymity over perfection—hoping, for once, to be just another girl. Jayden has spent his life surviving. Between a broken home, financial struggles, and a future that feels out of reach, music is the only place he can breathe. They come from two completely different worlds. They were never supposed to cross paths. But one piano piece changes everything. #Slow-burn romance

My husband, Matt Miller, suffers from severe insomnia. He can't stand a little bit of noise while he's asleep. After six years of marriage, I've gotten used to the quiet. I don't watch TV after 9:00 pm. I don't make calls or eat. I even walk on tiptoes. Everything feels worth it when I see him sleeping soundly. Until one day, when I go to his office to deliver some documents, I realize the door isn't tightly shut. His secretary, Faye Davis, is sitting cross-legged on the carpet while eating potato chips. A variety show is playing loudly in the background. Meanwhile, Matt is asleep on the couch. Just as Faye reaches forward to turn down the volume, he raises his hand and strokes her hair, all the while keeping his eyes closed. "It's okay. I sleep better with the noise." I stand outside the door, recalling the bad cold I had last month. Afraid that my coughing would wake him up, I had buried my head into the pillow all night. The next day, he frowned and complained, "You were breathing so loudly last night. I couldn't sleep at all. Keep it down next time." Amid the crunching sounds of potato chips and Matt's steady breathing, I slowly step back. Turns out the cure to his insomnia isn't silence, but a woman. Only that woman isn't me. I guess I won't be bothering him at night anymore.

I had been diagnosed with a structural abnormality. The doctor had told me my condition was extremely rare, the kind that had no cure. It was not exactly dangerous. I was just… different from other men in that regard. More intense. Far beyond normal. It had been a constant problem. Every time I brought a woman home, things fell apart the moment clothes started coming off. One look at me, and they panicked and ran like they had seen something they could not handle. My good buddy Gavin Cobb knew how long I had been going without, and he finally decided to help. He told me about a cycling club and suggested I check it out. At first, I did not take it seriously. Riding bikes? What was supposed to be exciting about that? Then he said, "You're underestimating it. The club was full of women. You'd ride up into the mountains at night, and once it was dark, no one could see anything. That was your opportunity. Make them feel good, and they wouldn't push you away. After that, your life would be easy." The idea got to me immediately. I did not think twice. I agreed on the spot.

For eight years, my husband, Atticus Pearson, has kept one unwavering habit. Every night, at exactly 11:00 pm, he makes a phone call. It always lasts exactly three minutes. "Elena suffers from insomnia. The doctor said someone should talk to her before bed." "Why does it have to be you?" "Because she got injured saving me in that accident. She saved my life." This has been going on for eight years. That makes more than 2,900 three-minute phone calls. I keep telling myself to get over it. Then, in the third year of our marriage, Atticus finally finds the time to make up for the honeymoon we never had. On the last night of the trip, Atticus is showering while I lie on the hotel bed, picking out photos from our couple's shoot. Suddenly, a message pops up on his phone. It is a video from Elena Stitfall. On the screen, Elena is lying in our bed, wearing my pajamas, resting her head on my pillow, and smiling at the camera. "Atti, can we talk for one extra minute tonight? I miss you so much. It's only three minutes to our call time."

Mom always said I was dead to the world when I slept. I would suddenly doze off in the middle of class, while eating, even halfway across the street. My homeroom teacher suggested I get checked at a hospital, but Mom brushed it off with a scoff. "She just stayed up all night on her phone!" After that, my phone was confiscated, the lock on my door was removed, and every time I showed the slightest sign of drowsiness, I got slapped awake. I did not want to be hit, and I did not want Mom to get angry, so I started pinching my thighs, yanking my hair, even downing medicated oil just to stay awake. But when that wave of sleep hit, nothing could stop it. On the day of the final exam, Mom happened to be assigned as one of the proctors. I bit through my lip, silently begging myself, 'Just this once. Just hold on.' But in the end, I still couldn't fight it. The desk was suddenly flipped over. I went down with my chair, crashing hard onto the floor. My head struck the edge of the desk, and darkness swallowed everything in an instant. Mom stood beside me, furious and disappointed. "Cecelia Thorne, are you really so obsessed with sleeping that you don't even care about your final exams? If you're that lazy, then lie there and keep sleeping!" I lay sprawled over my exam paper, my vision dimming bit by bit. Mom, this time, I might really sleep for a long, long time.

"What did they say?" He asked, almost too calm and very curious. "An animal fled with her." "They are lying! I want them in prison, till they tell me what happened to my daughter!!" He bellowed, clenching his fist while sitting on his blue, gold railed chair, beside his bed. "They are telling the truth." Seansha tried to reason. "No! They helped her hide away. They hid her, they know exactly where she is. And they will be tortured until they tell me the truth!" He barked furiously. • Ruby William is a modern teenage girl with a good family, good friends and a moderately perfect life. Until the night she turns eighteen, and gets stuck in a dream. Ruby fights to go awake, choosing her real life over her dream, which seemed too perfect. Things are opposite the way they appear, as those who are close to her or share a resemblance with those she loves, are harbinger of her demise.