Novel & Cerita Widow

He reminds her of their shared memories, he whispers words of love and devotion that has woven the tapestry of their lives together. “Do you remember the time when our little Nora was born? The first time I saw her, she remained cuddled in your arms…and when I first held her, she started to cry.” a faint smile appears on the corner of her lips and he chuckles lightly as he sniffles, trying to hold back his tears. Henry holds her hand high, bringing it closer to his face as he starts to kiss them gently. With a single tear that rolls down his eyes, he quickly manages to wipe it away before his wife opens his eyes and take a look at it. Once her hand falls on the bed, her eyes remains closed a

There's this guy, Who walks, And talks, Just like you, But it's not you. It's like he got your skin, And wears it, Like his own, But it's not his. That skin belongs to a man I loved, On him it was beautiful, And soft, And warm, No longer. The skin is ashen, The smile I loved, Gone, The protection, Gone, Just attacking and cold. And so, I feel like a widow, One with no funeral, To go to,

Now, here I was, offering him the very thing he had wanted, but he was gone. "Pull yourself together," my inner wolf growled, a voice of raw instinct cutting through the panic. My life felt like an endless cycle of suffering. This marriage had been a means to an end for Eveline, a cruel way for her to secure her own happiness with Alpha Jerry. The thought of my sister's malicious smile made me shake and sweat. "Eveline will burn me alive," I thought, the terror of her wrath eclipsing even my grief.

The reflex of four heads turned in the direction where Ignazio was now with his male cousins. "Why him?" Falisha asked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, come on, he's a worrisome bachelor too," Francisca replied with a melancholic expression. "Oh God, Ef. He's a widower, not a bachelor," Sara chuckled mockingly. Falisha nodded in agreement. "Exactly, he's even more worrying," Francisca lamented louder. "He can't live alone forever, can he? Regardless, he's a normal man. He surely needs a wife to accompany him every night." Francisca innocently said, making her two cousins laugh.

“Her husband was found with two bullets in his chest and one mistress in his bed.” “Ciara,” she gestured to the woman seated next to Harper. “Her husband drowned in the swimming pool in their home, although he’s a good swimmer.” “And last but not the least, Evelyn. Her husband disappeared. They never found his body. Just his wedding ring… in their garden.” None of them smiled. “Let me be clear,” Celeste said, turning back to her. “By accepting my invitation, you’ve accepted the rules of the Widow’s Club. There’s no application or initiation. Your grief is your entry.”

Jocelyn I stared back at the reflection in the mirror, gazing at the beautiful woman I saw looking back at me. My hair was pulled into a tight ponytail at the top of my head, long locks of natural blond hair curled just right hanging around my shoulders. A few strands were strategically pulled out, framing my face. My sky-blue eyes seemed more lively tonight than they had been recently. I had put more care into my make-up and could see the instant difference it made. Gone was the stone-faced businesswoman. In her place stood the shadow of the woman I once was before I became a widow. A woman who was once carefree and knew exactly what she wanted out of life. A

“Thomas, did you know why I agreed to hold the wedding with Alex? That’s because you’ve always been a pushover like you are now! You never act like a man! You always chose to back off during work and has never surpassed Alex! Even after work you act the same way. You never dared to anger me and even took the initiative to move out of your own house! You’re just a coward!” Before she could finish speaking, a lazy woman’s voice sounded at the door. “Thomas, are you done packing yet? The MPV’s still waiting outside!”

They couldn’t know how she felt, what she and her husband had shared, or what remained now that he was gone. The only things left of Damon Sharpe, other than the ring she wore and his still form in that casket, were inside of her and inside that house they had shared, though its contents had become almost worthless to her. The house might as well be empty. In a way, it was. “Anne,” a soft voice said to her from nearby, “if there is anything I can do, please let me know.” Anne turned and fixed the brown-haired woman in the gray dress with a flat stare. The woman swallowed, taking a step back.

I reached up and touched my chin; it was still warm where he had pinched it. This road to widowhood seemed far more difficult than I had expected.

I look at the door expecting for my wife’s presence. A few minutes later I felt Jana hold my hand. I looked at her way. My eyes widen when I saw her crying. "Jana why are you crying?" I asked worriedly. "I'm sorry Maru! I'm sorry!" She sobbed. I frowned. "For what?" “If its not because of me, we will not meet an accident.” She said while sobbing. I messed up her hair. "Its okay Jana I understand. But where is my wife?"