Perfect Peace: A Novel Novels & Stories

Slowly, he shifted, pulling the heavy duvet up over our shoulders, tucking us in, sealing us away from the cold world outside. "Are you alright, Ant?" Damien asked softly, his long fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from my eyes. I turned my head on the pillow, looking at his handsome, tired face. The deep pain that had weighed down my chest all afternoon was gone. In its place was a quiet, profound peace that I had never felt before in my entire life. I reached out, my fingers gently tracing the sharp, familiar line of his jaw. "I am perfect," I whispered, a genuine, warm smile spreading across my face.

Kit assured me that it's fine with him when I ask him questions. "No worries, Jael. I like that we're with someone we don't know today. I'm stuck with these three for the past years. It's good to meet new people," he said to me. "We always meet new people," Nico on the other hand said. "Yes, but I like Jael. She can piss Zaron by just breathing," Eli joked. "So we heard you're a singer, too? I saw your Youtube channel! I'll watch one of your videos when we got on the condo."

"Anna. Harris. Herbert. Their characters are alive. And I love how you turn the ending from novel to film. Herbert deserves a second chance with Anna and their child." My smile slowly faded, replaced by the shadow of Sean who I described as the character Herbert. Harris is Harvey. Anna is me. In the novel, Anna ends up happily with Harris, but not in the film. Anna opted into the arms of the troublemaker Herbert. "The ending of your story is somewhat 'tragic', but I think it's the ending with the perfect portion." Yes, Anna and Herbert had enough happiness in the end. I want to be realistic. Sadness has limits, so does happiness. Then what about me? Oh, shit. Remembering that all melts my te

Suddenly Allen's cell phone rang indicating there was an incoming message and it turned out to be from Zeyn. My Perfect Husband : Honey, you're ready, huh. Later, we will check your content and take a walk so you don't get bored at home. Allen smiled reading the message, even at work, Zeyn was still thinking about Allen. Zeyn is the perfect husband. Without waiting, Allen immediately replied to the message saying that he would get ready. And without lingering, Allen immediately went to the bathroom, he didn't want Zeyn to wait for him a long time later, especially since Zeyn was tired of working.

"Perfect. We'll be a mess together." "As always." Later, lying in bed, I journal: "Week forty-three. Cleared of all charges. Melissa has a restraining order. Three months until the wedding. And for the first time in our entire relationship—we have peace. Real peace. Not the eye of the storm. Not a temporary reprieve. Actual peace. No pending investigations. No active attacks. Just us. Building a life. Planning a wedding. Choosing each other every day. It's strange how normal feels after so much chaos. But I'm learning to trust it. Learning that peace doesn't have to be temporary. That we can actually have sustained happiness. Three months. Ninety days. Then I marry him. Finally. Completely.

“Matthew failed to tell you that he’s in love with the mother of his child. He took you and marked you on an impulse, but he has no intention of being with you.” I watched as her tears filled with eyes. “Why? What’s wrong with me?” “No, no, no, baby. You’re perfect. I’m just already in love with someone else. I want her and my child. I can’t be with you.” He quickly told her. “How can I be perfect, yet you don’t want me?” She cried. “It’s not your fault. I’m really sorry.” He said as he rubbed her arm. I could tell that he was doing his best to resist the tingles that their touch created.

That must be normal for half of the percent of mothers because for the rest, they claim that the other part is insane for classifying themselves as perfect mothers. I confess to the girls that it's my first time, that I'm not used to going to these places. I even thought the day I entered one that it was hell itself because peace or the sound of cars cannot be bought with music that makes your skin crawl, that sends an electric shock through your body until it reaches your heart, making it beat uncontrollably. It's a unique feeling. The two of them laugh and tell me it's normal, that we always have a first time, but everything has its pros and cons.

Even Brenda and Reese stopped making out to see what the silence was about. I know what everyone is thinking, "Who dare throw something at Lyra Mae Miracle? Especially with her brother around?" Honestly, I am sort of wondering the same thing. It's no secret that Isaac is a bit protective of me. Maybe "bit" is too weak of a word . . . especially after . . . never mind. Basically, if someone does me any wrong, they'd be lucky to only need to go to the hospital.

And beneath it, a pressed rose — the petals blackened with ash. I don’t scream. I don’t call Luca. I only whisper to the empty corridor: “Then come take it.” Outside, thunder rolls — not from the sky, but from the docks. The windows tremble. The alarms shatter the quiet. And for the first time in months, I smile. Because peace has finally died. “Peace is the lie we tell ourselves before the next war begins.”

I used to believe endings came with noise. With doors slamming, papers flying, voices raised. But this one came gently. Like a sigh. Like the last note of a lullaby. And maybe that’s what peace really is—not silence, but softness. Not the absence of war, but the return of one’s self. The morning of Zaya and Micah’s joint birthday arrived with sunshine that filtered in like forgiveness. The sky was clear, the breeze was warm, and the smell of vanilla cake floated from the kitchen before the guests evern arrived.