Novel & Cerita Peace Like A River Book Review

I’d also like some quiet moments of peace and solitude, but I know peace is not in the books for me right now. Or anytime soon. Nobody speaks for a moment. Then River breaks the silence. “Start explaining.” His voice is calm, but I know that’s deceptive. The angrier he gets, the calmer he becomes. It’s truly terrifying. His command only proves what I had a feeling about: they already know. Or at least, they suspect something. I exhale slowly, exhaustion already settling itself deep in my bones. “He knows,” I say flatly. River arches a single eyebrow. “And by he, you mean…”

Slowly, he raised his eyes to the blood-covered little life in his arms and took a deep breath. “RiverPride will rise again,” he whispered. “And this time…over the ashes of GrayCrest.” ___________________ A/N: Hello lovely readers! Welcome to my world. I believe this is the first time you are reading my work. If you enjoy crazy twists and turns, panicky cliffhangers, lots of drama and intricate plots, then you have found the right place. Sit down and buckle up because this story is a rollercoaster full of suspense, steam, humor and a story unlike any other. If you like the story, then don't forget to comment and let me know and do rate the book! It would mean a lot :))

He shuts his mouth and it’s the first good thing he’s done today. Outside, the plaza air tastes like weather about to break. The precinct van idles, twin to the one that took Maxwell. Reporters arrange their faces and Becky’s cones stand like festive sentries, proud of their day. We load Drake, Ares reads the rights the way River did and I find myself counting the words I love best: silent, counsel, daylight, safe. The door shuts and I feel the latch in my soul. Another period. “Two,” River says in my ear, satisfied.

Because in the dark no one can see, no one can know how hurtful it is. If when he was a child, he wouldn't cry even if he was beaten to death, but now he is so weak that just a little pain can cry. Maybe the older we get, the faster we cry... "Where is its hope?" Little Clause hugged the trembling body, it was like a wind that drifted everywhere without stopping. Where is the place of peace? Where is home called? Maybe those things are too luxurious for him so God can't give him five times seven times. "I'm dead, will anyone cry?"

A place of potential development, affirmation, and some lurking menace. A smile brightens River’s face, and his mind lifts when a curious, fresh feeling—a sentiment he wasn’t expecting. The inkling that perhaps he might enjoy working amongst New York’s brightest. He gazes out at the ocean of people and buildings, rumbling in many movements and tones. Slowly easing his car behind the ones before him, his eyes smiling again as though trapped in a daydream. Yet there was an ambivalence in his brown orbs. River wasn’t certain if the dream would sustain, but at the very moment, it is a splendid feeling.

The East River Bridge is a giant brick bridge that allows cars to pass through the deep body of water beneath it. Peace. That was all I could think of when my eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and I could feel the harsh wind on my bare skin. I was wearing a thin strapped evening gown because I wanted to make the night special for David. Thinking about it now, I was such a fool. How could I not have known that my husband and best friend were hooking up? I was such a fool, a big one and now I knew it. I wanted to get rid of the guilt and pain in my heart, the river offered so much peace that I wanted to grab it. Such peace; if I entered the river, would I feel such peace?

Smiling, I added, “But you can’t do that again, okay? You can’t hide secrets from me, or else I will not forgive you.” River nodded, his smile widening, but I also saw another flicker of emotion in his eyes—something that I wasn’t able to decipher. He squeezed my hands gently, his fingers warm and steady, grounding me as the world swirled around our quiet confession. “I can’t undo the years they took from you… But I promise to spend the rest of my life giving you peace,” he told me, his voice low and laced with sincerity. “I will give you freedom and safety.”

“I’m trying to memorize this.” “The book?” “No. You. This moment. The way it feels to not be looking over my shoulder.” He closed his book and set it aside, moving to the sofa to sit beside me. He pulled my legs over his lap, his hand resting on my ankle. “It gets easier, you know. The peace. At first, it feels like a lie. You wait for the explosion. But then, after a while, you realize the explosion isn't coming. You realize that this is just what life is supposed to be.”

“So, why the river? Does it remind you of something or bear any meaningful event?” I hesitated, picking at a blade of grass near my foot. “I don’t know. It’s just... quiet, no rush, no noise, no traffic, few people, I guess. And pretty. Sometimes, it’s nice to just... live without all the noise, crowd, pretending, pressure, you know?” He nodded, and for a moment, there was a strange understanding between us. No teasing, no awkwardness—just quiet. And it was nice. Unnerving, but nice.

River There are moments in life that feel like breathing again after being held underwater for too long. Moments that don’t announce themselves with fireworks or drama but with quiet, unwavering peace. This was one of them. The hospital room was bathed in warm afternoon light, the sound of faint birdsong slipping in through a cracked window. It was a rare kind of day—still, unrushed, and real. And I was alive to see it.