Tranquility By Tuesday Novels & Stories

“Juѕt hоld mе and ѕtау ԛuіеt, I need ѕоmе tіmе tо juѕt relax before I соmbuѕt.” “Thаt I саn do, bаbу. Wе’ll have peace and ԛuіеt now, аnd then I’ll mаkе you ѕсrеаm later. Pеrfесt. I’d fіnаllу found mу moment оf blіѕѕ fоr thе fіrѕt tіmе tоdау.

"It's almost like the hard times circle 'round" "A couple drops and they all start coming down" "Yeah, I might feel defeated and I might hang my head" "I might be barely breathing but I'm not dead, no" A tear escaped my eye. I managed to stay still until I finish the third chorus. "I'm not gonna let it get me down" "I'm not gonna cry" "And I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight" "'Cause, tomorrow's another day" "And I'm thirsty anyway" "So bring on the rain"

The message arrived on a Tuesday, which Adaeze would later think was almost insulting in its ordinariness. Tuesdays were not supposed to be the day your life cracked open a second time. Tuesdays were for school runs and supplier calls and the small unremarkable business of living. She had come to trust Tuesdays, in the months since everything had broken and begun, however unsteadily, to mend.

The city outside the window was going quietly toward midnight. In three hours she’d be in the studio and he’d be in the lobby of an empty building and the show would start and at two in the morning he’d call her, but this time it would be different, this time he’d know the weight of her hand and the way her face looked in warm coffee shop light. “Tuesday,” he said. She smiled. The one from the headshot, the one from the radio, the one from right here. “Tuesday,” she said. THE END

I'll make a reservation and send you the details. *Looking forward to it!* I set the phone down and leaned back against the couch. Exactly what I needed. Even if the thought of having dinner with someone who wasn't Anna made my stomach turn. I stood up and went to the vintage record player in the corner. I found a vinyl of classical music. Mozart. I set it playing and returned to the couch, letting the music wash over me. Slowly my thoughts began calming. I took a deep breath and sank into the couch, closing my eyes.

“Don’t worry, okay? I’m not angry at you… I just want to know the truth.” He did his best to keep his voice calm and gentle, something that seemed to prove effective since her shoulders relaxed a little, the guarded look in her eyes fading just a bit. It made him feel better that she was trusting his words. She nodded shakily and sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on top of her lap. He followed slowly after, sitting at a certain distance from her. Not too close, but not too far, either. The room lapsed into silence. Sunlight was still streaming from the window, but softer this time, indicating that it was almost the end of the afternoon. The sun was probably going to set on the horizo

After their large lunch, having a simple snack was perfect, allowing them time to enjoy the evening together. Sandra sat curled beside Creighton on the large leather sofa, the soundtrack from the opera Agrippina echoed softly over the stereo speakers, making the end of their day quiet and peaceful. The violins played beautifully, and Sandra closed her eyes as she listened, feeling the orchestra filter through her mind, relaxing her fully. “Are you tired?” Creighton asked, causing her to open her eyes, then smiled up at the man who watched her. “Not at all,” she answered. “I was just listening to the music. Tell me about this piece. What is it about?”

He shrugged and they continue to walk down the street, the sun already rising from it's former home. The red, orange and blue hue dusking the sky makes everything look more romantic. She lie her head on his chest and they continue to walk listening to 'Put It All On Me by Ed Sheeran ft Ella Mai.' She could feel her chest lightening, her heart brightening and her shoulders loosing it's knots. She smiled widely at the sun, feeling like it is down the road but after reaching the end of the estate and seeing it up above, she chuckled at herself and they turn back to go back to their home.

It was the kind that only came after storms had passed, when survival had turned into celebration, and every light felt brighter because darkness had tried and failed to take it away. The courtyard was glowing with soft lanterns, draped in ivory and gold. Florists moved quietly between tables, adjusting roses and peonies, their petals still holding the day’s warmth. Musicians rehearsed under the stars, their instruments murmuring gentle promises of the day to come. Everything was being prepared for a union that had been delayed, tested, and nearly stolen but never broken.

"I'm thinking about opening it in Southside. It's quieter there." "Then you have my full support." The next day, on the train back to Paragon City, I got a message from Leo. [I've organized the photos from the Antarctica tour. Want a copy?] [Sure. Thanks.] A moment later, another message popped up. [Do you live in Paragon City? I'll be leading a group nearby next month. Can I take you to dinner?] I paused. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. In the end, I replied: [Sure.]