Calmness To My Storm Novels & Stories

She shuddered. "Never...I swear it. I only want you...no one else." She searched the depths of my eyes, and then slowly, I felt the tension release from her body. "That's it," I cooed in approval, relaxing my hold just a little. She was cooling down, but the storm was still very present in her eyes. I coached softly, "Just take a minute, love...and breathe." I knew a little something about calming down riotous and out-of-control emotions- I had to do it myself often enough.

“You don’t need to thank me Raven. Just promise me you won’t give up. Promise me you will stand and fight no matter how hard things get. Because this shit will get worse before it gets any better” “The calm before the storm” I mumbled as I played with the bubbles. “Exactly. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me” nodding my head she smiled as she left. Closing my eyes, I let my body relax into the warm water as I inhaled the relaxing scent of the lavender bath soak. ****

It’s too much. Lorenzo steps closer to me, his presence grounding me. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a surge of comfort. We’ve faced so much together, and we’ve made it through. This is no different. I can do this. With a deep breath, I close my eyes, centering myself, reaching deep within to find the calm I need. The magic doesn’t stop, but it slows, its chaotic pulse becoming a steady rhythm I can follow. Slowly, I feel the control returning, the wild energy becoming manageable.

My eyes blazed, twin flames reflecting the fury I had suppressed for too long. I raised my hands, palms outstretched, and drew a deep breath. The storm was mine to command, a manifestation of my power. With a single exhale, I willed it to stillness. The waves flattened, the clouds parted, and the moon emerged, radiant, silver, and bright, bathing us in its glow. The boat steadied, the air growing quiet save for the soft lapping of water against the boat.

“Ah, but this time, I’ll burn it with flair.” “Romantic.” “Always.” And in that moment—in that simple, ridiculous exchange—I knew we were going to be okay. Because sometimes, after the storm, you don’t need fireworks. You just need peace. And pancakes.

A feeling of calm washed over him. Just before the storm. He had to win this time. Even if it destroyed him.

“I absolutely cannot lose it. Veronica, it’s the only thing I possess of her. I cannot…” I shifted and wrapped my arms around her, relieving some of the pressure I naturally added. “Breathe it out. We will find it, and I promise, it’s out there, but we will find it. First, breathe. Just breathe lightly for seconds. You are absolutely fine, I swear.” “Why does it feel like I’m caught in a storm?” “Everything feels that way for quite a lot of us, and I can’t provide the right answer right now,” A fully packed reason, a storm. “Don’t try to drown in it, okay?”

“Lord, give me strength. If the storm is betrayal, let me stand firm. Let me see truth through the shadows.” The house was silent, but her heart was not. Every beat whispered the same thought: the storm was no longer on the horizon. It was here.

I pushed it open just enough to see her. The room was silent except for the slow, rhythmic sound of her heartbeat. It was a strange, impossible thing. The moment that steady pulse hit my ears, the storm in my head went quiet. For the first time all week, a surprising calm washed over me, soothing the broken edges of my rage. I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe, my boots rooted to the floor, and simply closed my eyes. I let the sound of her life anchor me, savoring a peace I didn't deserve.

It was more like the slow shifting of colors before dawn imperceptible, quiet, real. She reached for her journal. Its pages were filled with fragments of herself anger, poetry, unfinished thoughts that had once been too heavy to speak aloud. Tonight, she flipped to a blank page. Her handwriting flowed easily, not rushed, not desperate. Just honest. She wrote: “Sometimes peace isn’t what you find after the storm. It’s what grows beneath it. The parts of you that learn to dance even when it rains.” The pen lingered at the edge of the page. She smiled faintly. Maybe that’s what she’d been doing all along learning to dance beneath the storm, without even realizing it.