Nobela ni Vina Kalviné

Yasmine's POV Safe delivery, Yasmine... in hell," he said and shoved. The world spun around me, and the railing disappeared beneath me. The air tore past my ears; my screams were ripped away by the wind as I fell. Time fractured—shattered like the glass of our living room table, I saw everything in pieces. The ceiling, the stars, Francis' twisted face above, Aileen, watching with a cruel, satisfied smirk. And then—Darkness. But not death. Pain. White-hot and agonizing. My body hit something hard—then another—bones splintered, the sound muffled in my ears. The world swam red. Breath escaped me. I couldn’t scream anymore. I lay there. Crumpled. Cold. Blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky. My fingers twitched. My vision blurred as my eyes were wide open, staring at them watching me die satisfactorily. Someone… anyone… please help me," I muttered, the voice in my head muffled. Tears trickled from my eyes, mixing with the blood oozing from every end of m

Yasmine’s POV “Fuck!” Francis screamed, pulling Aileen off him with a sickening plop as he turned, wide-eyed. “W—what are you doing home at this time, Yas?” he stammered, like I was the problem. Like I had ruined something sacred between them. I couldn’t speak, my lips moved, but no sound came. I stared at him—at them—naked, sweaty, guilty and yet not sorry enough to cover up. Aileen stood frozen beside him, her lips still parted like she hadn’t fully come down from the high of whatever orgasms they were riding. I looked at her first. My sister. My blood. “Yasmine,” she whispered, but her voice was weak. She didn’t move, didn’t reach for me, just stood there, arms wrapped around her chest like she was the victim here. “Answer me!” Francis barked, his tone sharper now, like I’d interrupted him. “I…” My voice cracked. “I live here, and are you fucking yelling at me Francis?” I questioned, my eyes brimming with tears that were burning the corners. “Yes! You wer

Yasmine's POV I woke up feeling oddly refreshed like eight hours of sleep had rinsed away the traumatic events of yesterday. The doubts that had curled tight in my chest last night had loosened. Maybe it really was just the exhaustion wearing off, or maybe I was just tired of overthinking everything, especially the fact that I made a blank deal with a demon whose condition might turn out to be my life. Either way, I decided to stop fighting the peace. I was grateful—grateful that Francis was alive, grateful that we were safe, and that my family had shown up when I needed them most, and that was more than enough. "Hey, sis. Good morning," Aileen said as she stepped out of her room, smiling softly. "Morning," I replied. "You going to the office today?" I nodded, fastening the last button of my shirt. "Yeah. It’s already Friday, things are calmer now and I trust you to help take care of Francis," I said, a small smile forming on my lips. "I’m glad you’re eas

Yasmine’s POV The staff at the hospital all worked their way around Francis, treating him urgently, and in almost an hour, we were free to leave. “A-are you sure we can leave now? I mean, are you sure there’s nothing else wrong with him?” I asked and the doctor shook his head in rebuttal. “We’ve carried out a scan, x-ray, and every other test that might be needed, but he’s fine,” the doctor said, and I nodded, thanking him profusely before turning to Francis. “What happened, Yasmine? I thought I died,” he asked, and I stepped closer, taking a seat beside his bed, holding his hands in mine. “Yes, we’re fine. We had an accident, but we survived by a miracle,” I said, and he stared at me for a while before he looked back at the hospital. I could feel the sneer of the devil behind me at the mention of the miracle, but it wasn’t important, he wasn’t going to come back… “Let’s go home, shall we?” Francis said. I nodded, helping Francis up carefully. He winced a littl

YASMINE'S POV "P—please…" "Please save my husband! Someone! Anyone! Please!" I screamed into the downpour, my voice barely rising over the storm's roar. I stumbled on the slick pavement, falling to my knees as I crawled toward a lone figure standing under the streetlight. Tall. Still. Unnaturally calm. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch—just watched me approach like I was something unfortunate lying in the road. "S—sir, please," I cried, grabbing onto the hem of his pants with shaking hands. "Please, he’s dying. We had an accident—please, just help us!" He looked down at me slowly. His eyes were the color of old smoke, dark and hollow like everything had died behind them. My heart lurched when I saw his face—handsome in a way that felt dangerous, unnatural. His features were perfect, too perfect, carved like a statue of a forgotten god. Beautiful and terrifying. "Get your hands off me, young lady," he said, his voice low, smooth… but utterly devoid of sympathy. "It’s alread