The Book Joy Novels & Stories

Joy replied with a huff. "Is that all?" Eden glanced at her, then pulled out a book from her sling bag—a treatise on alchemy written in an ancient language. Joy stole a glance at the book but quickly looked away, unable to understand a word of it. Eden was known for her eccentricities, so Joy thought nothing of her reading a book that others couldn't comprehend. "Aren't you angry?" Joy asked curiously, studying Eden. After spending time with her over the past few days, Joy had developed a basic understanding of her personality.

Some trembling. “I asked for help this week,” said one. “I danced alone in my kitchen.” “I told my friend I missed him.” “I wrote a poem that didn’t rhyme but still felt like breath.” Maris listened. Held space. Then said, “Maybe joy isn’t something we earn. Maybe it’s something we learn to receive.” The notebook filled with new lines after each circle. One read: “I failed at joy on Wednesday. But I tried again Thursday.” Another: “I didn’t know peace could feel awkward. It made me laugh.”

Please note the sarcasm. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Joy's POV

Hey everyone. This book will be updated again from the first of June. I am going to take a couple of weeks of holiday, and I will be traveling from the 24th to the 31st of May to celebrate my birthday with my family. I hope you are all enjoying Dylan and Jo as much as I am enjoying writing this book. Please leave reviews to help with the views and with the contest. the more views and reviews I get on my books bigger chances I have of winning contests and have my books featured longer on Good Novel's page.

she says, throwing the door open. Meekly, I step inside. Two men in suits are standing in Joy’s living room. Next to them, sitting on the sofa, is a beautiful woman in a light pink dress. “Excuse me, but I have to leave,” Joy says, curtsying hurriedly. She starts to rush away, but then darts back and throws her arms around me in a hug. “There’s an extra key in my dresser,” she whispers. Then, she speeds out of the room. I hear her rustling for her things, and her keys jingling, before the front door opens and closes.

When he returned from business trips, he would bring back snacks and delicacies. He never said anything charming, nor did he ever say more than necessary. But there was always a hot meal waiting at home, and the fridge was always stocked with my favorite yogurt. Two months later, my design submission won the gold prize at the International Jewelry Design Competition. On the night of the celebration, I wore a white dress and took a cab to the venue.

“Not in a formal way. I mean that writing this book was the most terrifying act of my life.” A woman in the third row nodded with intensity — the nod of someone hearing something she had always known but had never seen named. “More terrifying than the first, which was born from pain and had pain as its fuel. More terrifying than the second, which was born from confusion and had confusion as its engine. This one was born from joy, and I discovered that joy is the most vulnerable state of all.” She paused, looking out at the horizon of attentive faces.

Since my birthday, Penelope had been acting differently. I reckoned that she was reborn as well, and I was pumped with energy again. Just like me, Penny was reborn; maybe she could understand me. I started looking for Penny. Perhaps I had hurt her too deeply because I couldn't find any information about her. Lady Luck wasn't on my side. Six months later, I unexpectedly ran into a friend from the past. I was no longer the Mr. McLaren with a higher status than others, and my family wasn't as well-off as it used to be anymore.

When I finally hit save, a wave of emotion crashed over me, relief, joy, exhaustion, and a deep, overwhelming gratitude. I sat back in my chair, staring at the completed manuscript on the screen. This wasn’t just a book. It was a love letter to my family, to our journey, to the quiet moments that had shaped our lives. It was proof that joy didn’t have to come from grand, sweeping gestures. It could be found in the simple things, in a shared laugh, a gentle touch, a whispered promise. Noah must have sensed something had shifted because he appeared in the doorway, his expression soft and curious. “Did you finish it?” he asked.

(⁠+⁠_⁠+⁠) Keep reading and supporting my book (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) Ser feliz 🌹