Every Moment Holy Volume 3 Novels & Stories

She picked up her coffee. Sat at the kitchen table. Outside the rain kept falling on Millbrook, steady and grey and indifferent to the small revolution happening inside this house. Three days. Just three days and already the contours of something were visible — not perfect, not easy, nothing like what either of them had imagined their lives looking like. But real. God, it was real. Her phone buzzed. Sara: Coffee? I have information and pastries and opinions about all of it. Ayana smiled. Miller's. Eleven, she typed back.

She let the betrayal coat her like ash. And then she got up. Washed her face. Put on his favorite sundress. And went to church. Because it was Thursday. Because the quarterly audit was in six days. Because if she was going to burn the whole damn thing down, she needed to know what kind of kindling it was made of first. The sanctuary still smelled like guilt. Even after the candles were snuffed out and the choir robes were pressed and packed away, it lingered—in the carpet, in the wood, in her throat. The smell of devotion gone sour. Of secrets soaked into the upholstery. Of her own obedience rotting in real time.

But for what? After all the fighting and suffering, then what? How is this the right way? “Please, Mommy…” Zion’s whispered plea makes me look up at him, my heart thumping. He’s right… ‘He is…’ That enchanting melodic voice thrums through my head as time seems to freeze. This voice… it’s… White light surrounds me and time stands still.

The evening breeze was gentle, carrying the fresh scent of early summer plants growing. In the courtyard below, children laughed and ran around. Elderly residents strolled leisurely. Life flowed on in its most ordinary and solid form. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air. The three months after Arya's death, which had been full of her family's scheming, were like a long, oppressive nightmare. Thankfully, I had woken up. Wounds would scab over, pain would fade, and the lessons I learned would stay with me, making me stronger and wiser going forward. Night fell, and the city lights came on. I went back inside and turned on the lights. Warm illumination instantly filled the ent

Melanie's eyes flashed with anger, and suddenly she clutched her stomach while exclaiming, "My stomach... Is the baby coming?!" Henry's face twisted in sudden panic, and he swept Melanie into his arms, bolting for the door. As he rushed by, Melanie's hand shot out, gripping my arm with a fierce tug. I stumbled, crashing to the ground as Wren's gasp echoed in my ears. Pain washed over me, turning my face ghostly pale. Wren, shaking, lifted me up, her voice breaking as she called for a doctor. Through the blur, I caught Henry hesitating for a split second, but then, he was gone, not once looking back.

We greet each other intentionally. We check in even when the answer is “fine.” We pause before assuming. We repair small misunderstandings before they grow teeth. These things don’t feel heroic. They feel human. This chapter reframes holiness—not as perfection or purity, but as attention given consistently to what matters. The sacred isn’t rare. It’s repeated. We realize that if love survives here—inside dishes and deadlines and fatigue—it will survive anywhere. There’s a moment when frustration flares over something trivial. It would be easy to snap. Easier still to withdraw.

The Bible had been a gift from the Mother Superior when she had first taken her vows, and in the five years since, it had become as much a part of her as her own heartbeat. "There is hope, dear ones." She offered a gentle smile. "Through repentance and dedication to our Lord, we can find redemption. We can break free from the chains of sin and walk in the light of His love." Just then, the massive oak doors at the cathedral's entrance suddenly exploded inward. The crash was deafening. A thunderous boom echoed through the sacred space, shattering the serenity that had settled over the congregation and leaving ears ringing and hearts racing. For a heartbeat stretching into eternity, everything

"Mum, I know it may be a little too late, but I'm sorry for never making time for you and dad. I got selfishly caught up in my own life and just assumed you were both ok with that. I promise to make up for it" Merryn teared up " I know you are darling. But what's done is done and we can't change it. We just need to make up for it. We all know how short life is and it can be gone in a heartbeat". Somehow Piper knew that her Mum was referring to Miles - the sadness in her eyes obvious...

SO WE FIX OUR EYES NOT ON WHAT IS SEEN, BUT ON WHAT IS UNSEEN, SINCE WHAT IS SEEN IS TEMPORARY, BUT WHAT IS UNSEEN IS ETERNAL 2 CORINTHIANS 4:16-18 We rent a swimming pool from one of the hotels in Vineyard. We drive to the hotel in Harper’s car, Father Frank sits at the front while I sit with Haley and Rose at the back seat. We arrive at the hotel and everyone except me gets out of the car—I was told to stay inside till they are done with the preparations. Haley wheels Father Frank to the pool and he gives her a small bottle filled with Holy Water He brings forth his hands and bless the water before Haley pour the Holy Water into the pool. When everything is set, Rose leads me out of the c

Four minutes. The LED timer blinked: **03:57**. The sterile hum of the HVAC unit became the drone of doom. Martin Shale’s vacant eyes stared past Leo, lips moving soundlessly: *"Purify… cleanse…"* The purple canister in Leo’s hand felt like a live grenade. Dominic’s synthesized voice still echoed in his comms earpiece, a serpent coiled around his thoughts: *"A fitting dilemma for the keeper of broken things."*