My Quiet Book Novels & Stories

(E‌lara's POV) The q‍uiet in t‌he house w‌as the worst part. It‌ w⁠asn’t pea‍cefu‌l. It‍ w‍as⁠ the kind of quiet where you could hear‍ every little so⁠und, and ever‍y sound was wrong. Th‌e hum of the fridge. The t‍ick of the clock in the hall. My own breathing.‌

‘Lunaris. Cassian picked up one ring, sliding it onto my trembling finger, his thumb lingering on my hand. “For every lifetime,” he whispered softly. I took the other ring and slipped it onto his finger, smiling through tears. “And every moon that follows.” Then Grandpa Velen slipped a hand inside his coat and pulled out a mid-sized old leather book. The moment he opened it, the surrounding chatter faded until only the soft crackle of lantern flames remained. Cassian’s hand found mine, warm and steady, grounding me. I curled my fingers around his, feeling his pulse thrum through our joined hands.

But why would you give something that belonged only to me to someone else? Three days later, at dawn, five sleek black cars lined up neatly in front of the hotel. Harry held Chloe’s hand carefully as he helped her into one of them. From the corner of the street, I stood quietly, watching her gown glitter in the sunlight. The fabric swayed slightly with each step, catching the light like flowing starlight. It was breathtaking. As the motorcade pulled away, I grabbed my suitcase and left alone. Inside the car, Harry’s wolf was still growling in his ear.

The kitchen is warm. This is what the quiet looks like. ---

I read. He wrote. The room was, I was aware of this the way you were aware of a temperature, as a thing the body registered before the mind classified it, the room was the most specific quality of quiet I had encountered in the weeks of this house. Not the quiet of absence, the quiet that existed in rooms when no one was in them, which was a passive thing, the room simply not being occupied. This was the quiet of presence. Of two people present and occupied and proximate and, not speaking.

Apologize to Adam, Caleb, and Quinn, or I'll announce in the newspaper that I'm disowning you! As I looked at the biased old woman, all the last remnants of any warmth in my heart evaporated. I took a step back, pretending to be scared. My voice trembled as I cried out, "Grandma, why? Uncle Adam and Uncle Caleb were the ones fighting, and Quinn even hit me! Why should I be the one to kneel?" "Why?" Grandma sneered. "Because you're an ungrateful wretch! Quinn married a great husband. She's the pride of this family. And you? What are you? Who do you think you are, comparing yourself to them?"

RAVEN It was strange, really strange, how quiet everything felt. The air itself carried a kind of stillness that made me feel like even my own breathing was too loud. I stood there for a long while, listening, straining my ears for the slightest sign of movement, and finally I whispered to myself, “Why is it this quiet? It shouldn’t be this quiet.”

Out of boredom, she walked over to a small open bookshelf on one side and casually read a book to pass the time. Such a large room seemed much more empty. There was always a cold feeling when one was alone here. But Leona didn't care and just wanted to wait until the banquet downstairs was over. Leona was stunned when she opened the title page of the book. It read, "To Emma of the Quiet Years, wishing you well. The writing is. Jovanka." This book was published by... Jovanka? Leona flipped to the back, and the author was clearly written with the word Jovanka.