Power Of Habit Book Novels & Stories

"Moreover, we never did anything even before she left. The baby was just a test tube baby." He smiled wryly, seeing that I was still quiet. "I know, I know—you're still hung up over money. So why don't I give you the 400 grand? You will come home, right? "The PIN is your birthday. I've set aside this money all this time." He shoved the bank card into my hand, but I snapped it in two without any hesitation, scoffing, "Even now, you still have no idea what you have done. I don't want your money, let alone marry you.

“But you agree you found something useful there. We might need it if we forget any of our abilities. At least we now know that we are super powerful.” I grinned at that but that did not mean that I wasn't still mad. I am very mad at the writer of that book. Why would he write about powers without a good explanation on how to harness them? I scoffed and pulled the book out before leaving for my room, all the while my mind reeling with the knowledge that I could change reality to how I want it to. For the first time since our troubles started, a genuine smile graced my face.

He told me about a book he was reading, slowly, a habit he'd never had time for during the years he'd spent building and then losing his company. He mentioned, almost as an afterthought, that he'd started walking most mornings, a habit picked up simply because the mornings had otherwise felt too long and too quiet after the collapse of everything he'd built his identity around. There was no strategy hidden in the telling, no pivot toward some larger point he was working his way up to. It was simply a man describing a life that had gotten smaller, and slower, and, he seemed almost surprised to admit, not entirely unhappy despite all of it.

"Seriously? I wish I could or I would have pulled you off this table and thrown you out in the sea! It is not the time! Get it out!" Damien moved his head in the left to right direction directing a no. I sighed heavily and said, "Fine! I will try. So what am I suppose to do?" "Look, just remember one thing. 'It is all about your intentions, not the actions.' Whatever motion you make, if you are not willing to move the book out of its place, you would not succeed. Your will must come out of your brain. And another important rule when learning to use your powers."

Aunt Riza is one of the people that I should protect too. She was there for me when our house fell to ruin. She knew how I felt, so she tried her best to support me. I am too small. There is nothing I can do now with it. I’ve received another chance so I should use it well. I could start with the minor things—learning words. Since now, my teeth are growing. I will be able to speak a little. I try to say father and mother but instead came out weird sounds. Tears fill my eyes. It’s so hard; I can’t believe it. But it’s so hard. How did we manage to speak normally? Yeah! I remember that I read a book about habits. We have, in our brains, different places where we stock what we learn. Habits hel

“Here you will learn how to be exceptional as a Luna and the powers and privileges it comes with.” I took up the book, eager to see what was written inside. He stopped me with words. “Wait, before you read, remember one thing. Power changes people, but if you can remember where you came from, then you will preserve your sanity. Now you can open it.” I opened the book slowly. What did he mean by power changing people? Was that his way of warning or advising me in parables because I wasn’t getting it. The first few pages were names of Luna with dates and years they served all recorded in faded ink.

I set down my champagne and leaned forward, my hands folded elegantly. "Do you know what true power is, Frieda? It's not wealth or influence. Anyone can buy those. You know, right? Let me educate you: True power is authorship, I mean, the ability to write another person's story completely, every chapter plus every twist and every moment of joy and suffering." I picked up my tablet and turned it toward her. “I’ve written your story from the moment I saw your photograph to this very second. You thought you were fighting for freedom, but you were following my script perfectly. Every choice you made, every person you trusted, every moment you thought you were clever, was planned.”

Power, she realized, wasn’t something other people handed you. It wasn’t in a man’s last name, or his blessing, or his body. It wasn’t in the empire built by men like her father and Mazzo. Power lived inside the smallest, most private space of all—the space between heartbeat and decision. That moment right before she fired—that was where it lived. She rolled onto her back and let the truth settle in like a second skin. Power didn’t scream. It didn’t posture. It was quiet. Certain. Absolute. And it would never leave her again.

"I'm referring to you. Or at least the version of you who will get a promotion in six months." I looked at him for a moment. He was sincere. That was the worst part about it—he actually believed I could, even when I wasn't entirely sure that I could. "You'll mess up," he went on, voice dropping slightly. "That's fine. But the point is, to mess up only occasionally. People forgive blunders. They don't forgive routines." That again. Habits. "Say the one with your finger," he instructed, pointing towards me. "People forgive mistakes. They don't forgive habits."