Chapter 4

Brandon Richards woke early, the gentle light of morning filtering through the curtains. The events of the past few days replayed in his mind—the game, the prayer, the moment Genevieve had told him she'd broken off her engagement.

It still felt surreal. But not in a chaotic way. In a sacred, peaceful kind of way.

Genevieve had chosen faith. Chosen peace. Chosen him.

He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the small notebook sitting on the nightstand—her gift. Her favorite scriptures. Every page filled with verses, thoughts, and pieces of her heart.

He opened it again to the verse that had caught his attention the night before.

1 Nephi 3:7

"I will go and do."

It was bold. Brave. Just like her.

Meanwhile, back in Irvine, California…

Peyton Meyer sat in silence in his dressing room, scrolling through the latest headlines on his phone screen. The media had been buzzing all week.

"Genevieve Steps Back from Hollywood: Focuses on Faith, Not Fame."

"Sources Confirm: Engagement Off – Is Brandon Richards the Reason?"

His thumb hovered over her name in his contacts. But he didn't call.

She was in San Francisco now, spending time with a quarterback from a rival team. He, on the other hand, had just wrapped up a campaign shoot for his hometown's football franchise—the Los Angeles Rams.

It stung.

He looked into the mirror, jaw tense. "She's slipping away," he whispered.

And deep down… he knew she already had.

Across the Bay in San Francisco…

Genevieve Hannelius sat at the edge of her hotel bed, brushing through her curls and staring thoughtfully at her open suitcase. Her phone was beside her, with a half-written message to her agent sitting unsent.

She had choices to make. A full press tour. A major movie deal. But her heart?

Her heart was down the street, waiting with open arms and an open Book of Mormon.

She closed the suitcase softly and took a deep breath.

She wasn't walking away from her life.

She was walking toward something better.

She pressed send: "Cancel the press tour. I need time off."

Then, with scriptures and notebook in hand, she headed for Brandon's.

Brandon smiled as soon as he saw her outside his door, her eyes sparkling and her arms full—two smoothies and a Book of Mormon tucked under one arm.

"You brought breakfast," he said, smiling.

She grinned. "And scriptures. Hope you're hungry for both."

They curled up on the couch, cozy in the calm morning light. She passed him one of the smoothies.

"No coffee, promise," she teased.

Brandon chuckled. "You always come prepared."

"I'm trying," she said sweetly.

They opened their scriptures and read together—this time from D&C 6:36:

"Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not."

Genevieve softly traced the verse with her finger. "I read this the night I blocked Peyton's number."

Brandon reached over and gently took her hand. "Thank you for trusting me with that."

She leaned against him, her voice quiet. "It just… feels right. With you. With Him."

That evening, as the sun began to set, Genevieve stood out on Brandon's apartment balcony. The golden light shimmered across the San Francisco Bay as she talked to her mom on the phone.

"No, I haven't talked to him again," she said. "He's not who I thought he was."

A pause. Then her mom's gentle voice came through. "And Brandon? Is he?"

Genevieve smiled, eyes soft as she looked back inside at Brandon flipping through scriptures on the couch. "Yeah, Mom. He is."

She ended the call, stepped inside, and sat next to him. Their scriptures still lay open.

"Want to read one more verse before we call it a night?" she asked.

He looked up at her with a soft grin. "Always."

A few days later, Brandon stayed late at the 49ers' training facility after a team meeting. The halls were quiet, but when he stepped into the corridor, Genevieve was there—waiting.

She wore his 49ers hoodie, her curls tucked into a beanie, and a soft glow in her eyes.

She handed him a small notebook.

"What's this?" he asked.

"My second volume of favorite scriptures," she said with a grin. "Volume one's by your bed."

Brandon flipped it open, scanning the pages written in her handwriting. One verse stood out:

Alma 37:6

"By small and simple things are great things brought to pass."

He looked up at her, heart full. "Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure," she whispered.

And under the quiet glow of the hallway lights, Brandon leaned in and kissed her—soft, slow, and full of promise.

Two hearts.

One path.

Rooted in faith.

And just beginning.