Romans & histoires Living In The Present Books

Turns out for them I’m a whole mystery that no can be able to solve. And I don’t think there’s someone who can figure out and can change my views. I’m just at the point of my life where if something feels like it’s draining me, or fighting with my peace of mind and happiness, I’m not dealing with all, at all. I unconsciously bore my eyes on my Psychology Attraction book before following Ave who already left me. I heaved a sigh, I guess. I don’t believe in predictions, but I do believe that there’s a future waiting for us. But at this moment, I predicted my own. And that’s what I want to happen regardless of what will life throws on me. Because the best way to predict the future is to create

The therapy had reminded him of this: that he was not outside the current of things, that he had his own currents, his own wants, his own after. He made dinner. He sat at the table and read—he was, finally, finishing the book he had been failing to read since the early sessions. It was a biography of Pauli Murray, a gift from a colleague, and he had been stuck on the middle chapters for weeks because his attention kept drifting to the therapy, to Ethan, to the shape of the ending. Tonight he read without drifting. The book was good. Murray's life was extraordinary—lawyer, priest, poet, someone who had refused every category and built a life that made the categories seem small. He read for an

It's always been leading up to now, the most goddamn inevitable thing to happen, obviously. It's been an hour now, I think. I stopped focusing on anything that didn't need my attention after everything decided to hit me in my face like a damn explosion. I'm not even sure how I feel at this point, what do I need to feel, to expect, as I continue thinking about things, about this disaster and self destruction, sometimes it's like that, I numb out my pain because it's always been so constant that eventually I started learning to live through the pain.

Life had been quieter since the hospital scare. Not empty. Not boring. Just slower. Intentional. For the first time in years, Maya and Ethan weren’t racing through life. They weren’t trying to outrun responsibilities or squeeze joy into the spaces between obligations. They were present. And presence, Maya was learning, was a gift far greater than productivity. Evenings were sacred now. Dinner at the table. Phones away. Stories shared. Laughter echoing through their home. It was during one of those peaceful weeks that life shifted again.

"Ari⁠a, if I cannot speak‍ of the pas‌t or the future.‍.. w⁠hat is left?" "The p‌resent," I‌ said‌, leaning forward. "The way this‍ terrible⁠ pasta tastes⁠. The sound of the wind outside. The fact that you‌ have flou‍r o‍n‍ your ear." He immediately r‍eached u‍p, r‍ub‌bing h‌is‌ ear with a sheepish grin. "It’s ha⁠rder th‌a‍n it sounds. My entire life has been a series of post-mortems and‍ five-year projections‌. Living in the 'now' feels... quiet."

Then I go back to work. The past is the past and I have a present to live in.

Put it at my place at the table. I sat down. Opened the kitchen notebook. Wrote one more line under the morning entry. The ordinary life requires the same courage as the crisis. Different expression. Same essential thing. Choosing to be fully present for what is actually here. I put the notebook down. Drank the coffee. Let the morning be the morning.

*Or am I repeating old patterns because my wolf recognizes him despite everything that happened? "I can hear you overthinking from here," Jace murmured against my hair. "How about this: for today, we don't worry about the future or what-ifs. We just exist in the present. You're safe, I'm safe, we're together, and Amber is somewhere far away plotting her next move while we're here rebuilding what she tried to destroy." "That sounds dangerously close to complacency," I observed. "That sounds like self-care and trust-building," he corrected. "We can't spend our entire lives waiting for the next attack. At some point, we have to actually live instead of just surviving."

Ready to live. Finally, truly live.

After moving out of the Shaw Residence, I temporarily settled in an apartment across from Leon’s place. He had a grand villa in the suburbs, but this unit in the city was more convenient for people like him who worked late hours, especially since it was just opposite the company. To make sure he had peace and quiet, he bought both the upper and lower floors, taking up two entire units on the same level. That evening, Vivian called me. “Lynn, where have you been hiding out?!