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Chapter 79
Last Updated:
2024-03-04 02:46:39
DewyHi. I hope you people don't keep hopes for next update for now. or more like atleast for 3 months. This chapter was in my drafts for almost a month and i couldn't post it because it wasn't edited. and some how I found time and edited it today and posted it. After three months i definitely give you updates and finish this story. Thanks a lot for your patience.
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His Widow Chapter 141
Hi everyone. I might have put you in so much wait. But here is the thing. In the month of February i got to know my mother is suffering from ulcers. I don't exactly know how the treatment will be but they Said it is severe and just said my mom is lucky enough to escape surgery. That put me
His Widow Chapter 140
That alone was enough to bring tears of rage to my eyes. As I stepped down the staircase, I forced myself to really look at the house for the second time. The first time was right after he married me and dragged me here—when my vision was too clouded with tears to see anything. Now, I stood still
His Widow Chapter 139
**One week.** Only one week has passed. Yet it felt like a lifetime, suspended in the choking fog of boredom and dread. Time dragged its limbs across the floor of this strange new home, echoing hollow and heavy with every breath I took. I refuse to lift a finger in this house—as if I’m some kind
His Widow Chapter 138
Her eyes fell on the sacred thread around her neck—the nuptial chain. Her fragile fingers took it in hand as she examined it with longing eyes. This was the second time she was married, wasn't it? The irony? She was married to her dead husband's stepbrother. Both of them shared a common aim: dest
His Widow Chapter 137
The room was dimlh lit with scented candles spreading fragrance. The balcony door still open with the flowing wind inside the intimate sounds from them echoed. Rose petals lay withered over the bed spread randomly now crippling under them. The white jasmine hung around the bed from the bed posts s
His Widow Chapter 136
Asha’s POV**** Lifting my head, I saw him. Unlike me, wrapped in traditionals, he stood in a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into black pants. His hair was combed back, though a few strands had fallen forward, softening the sharpness of his features. He looked so composed, so unaffected, while my w
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