Indian Yogurt Crossword Novels & Stories

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

My sister and I were caught up in a severe car accident during a family road trip down the mountain for the New Year. Shattered glass pierced straight through my heart. Amid the excruciating pain, my fiance and family insisted the rescue team take my sister, who only had a scratched arm, to the hospital first. As I cried out for them to save me, my fiance snapped at me. “Carol, you should know when to stop vying for attention! “Delila is bleeding so much. Why must you compete with her?” Dad shook his head and sighed while Mom looked at me with disgust. I forced my stiff neck to look over. They were all surrounding my younger sister. She only sported a faint red mark on her arm. No one saw the blood gushing from my chest. No one heard my fading heartbeat. I died during that snowy, bitterly frigid night. When they finally remembered me and came across my cold body, my fiance and family went mad.

On the day of my wedding, the video I had painstakingly prepared was suddenly replaced with intimate photos of my fiancé and my foster sister, Lindsey Remmington. Within minutes, it hit the top of the trending list. Overnight, I, a celebrated actress, became the abandoned bride of a wealthy family and a public laughingstock. Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, Connor Presley, the heir of Elluel City's most powerful family and the boy I'd grown up with, returned from abroad. In front of flashing cameras, he knelt with a diamond ring and proposed, silencing every rumor and every sneer. After we married, we appeared inseparable, our affection the picture of perfection. The only flaw was his infertility—his condition made it nearly impossible for me to conceive. For three long years, I underwent countless rounds of IVF. At last, I became pregnant. Connor was overjoyed. To celebrate, he threw an extravagant party in honor of our long-awaited child. But in the middle of the revelry, one of his closest friends, drunk and unguarded, muttered in Russian, "Connor, you've gone too far. Just because Lindsey was afraid pregnancy would ruin her figure, you put the zygote into Rachel's body and let her carry the baby for you two? If she ever finds out the truth, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." Connor's expression didn't waver. "This was Lindsey's only wish. I had to grant it," he replied coolly. "Besides, having a child with Lindsey has always been my dream. Only her child deserves to be the heir of the Presley family. The days ahead are long—I'll make it up to Rachel, eventually." I stood frozen, my body trembling uncontrollably. That night, I made an appointment for an abortion. When Connor stormed into the hospital, raging like a madman, I looked up at him with chilling calm and said, "I understand Russian."

I was hit by a car and suffered a brain injury while trying to save my fiancé. Before I was taken to the hospital, I accidentally saw him locked in a kiss with his assistant, Sarah Mineli. I suspected he was cheating, so after I woke up, I pretended to have amnesia to test him. "Do we know each other?" Ethan Meyer paused, his expression faltering. Then he suddenly pointed at his best friend. "I'm your fiancé Grayson Hudson's closest friend. I came to attend your engagement ceremony." I watched as he and Sarah stood there, their fingers tightly intertwined, my face turning deathly pale. Grayson stepped forward and draped his coat over my shoulders. "Baby, I'm your fiancé," he said softly. "It's my fault I couldn't protect you." I felt the warmth of his palm and gave a faint smile. "Then let's go home," I said. "We still have an engagement ceremony to prepare for."

On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Maya Crane, volunteered to drive me to the hospital herself. Halfway there, she suddenly let out a cold laugh. "Lara Quinn. You don't deserve Mason Sterling. "You don't deserve to carry his baby." My heart dropped. I clutched my stomach and tried to jump out of the car. However, before I could move, she jerked the steering wheel–sending my side of the car straight toward an oncoming truck. The truck swerved at the last second. Her side slammed into the guardrail. Maya was dead at the scene. I was hemorrhaging, and the baby almost came too early. In her last breath, dying in the wreck, she sent Mason a message. [Mason… Lara did this to me on purpose…] The police investigated for half a month and ruled me innocent. Mason grieved, but he stayed by my side, caring for me with obsessive tenderness while I recovered. The day I was discharged, he took me to the seaside. Then he shoved me into the ocean. His voice was cold and merciless. "Don't think destroying the evidence means you're safe. You caused her death. Pay for it with your life." The sea filled my lungs. And when I opened my eyes again–I was back to the day of my prenatal checkup.

My husband, Shawn Payne, goes bankrupt overnight. That very night, he ships me and our son, Tommy Payne, off to a deserted island, claiming it's the only way to keep us safe from his creditors. Worried sick about leaving him to face the danger alone, I sneak back home halfway there, only to find him throwing a wild party, his arms wrapped tightly around a beautiful woman. His best friend, Ryan Foster, needles him. "You dumped your wife and son in the middle of nowhere. How are they going to survive out there?" Shawn shrugs like it's no big deal. "Yvonne's closing down her dog food factory anyway. I had all the surplus kibble repackaged and shipped to the island. It's more than enough to keep them fed for a few years." The woman, Yvonne Sullivan, purrs and snuggles deeper into his chest. "Oh, babe, you're so good to me and the baby," she coos, gently stroking her belly, which isn't even showing yet. He taps the tip of her nose affectionately. "You're so innocent and soft-hearted. If I don't look out for you, who will?" He pulls Yvonne closer and continues, "For your sake, I had to ship that shrew off to some godforsaken island. If she ever found out you were pregnant, she'd tear you apart. Once you have the baby and she turns two, I'll bring them back. By then, it'll be a done deal. There's nothing she can do about it." His words hit me like a ton of bricks. A cold sweat soaks me to the skin. Three years later, right on schedule, he calls. "Hey honey, how are you and Tommy doing? I'm ready to come pick you guys up." I glance at the man beside me, and a rush of satisfaction washes over me. "We're doing great," I reply. "My new husband treats both me and your son incredibly well."

The university student, who was my wife’s lover, had set a KPI for them to sleep together 12 times a month. However, she was too busy this month, so they only slept together 11 times. In light of that, the lover, Sam Reid, started crying and protesting by starving himself. In order to please Sam, Tanya came to me, her husband. “John, please tell him that I didn’t sleep with you this month. Just a short explanation would do.” As she said, we had not slept together for a long time. I would not be able to breathe whenever she touched me. She tried a few times, and I ended up requiring emergency care. Since then, she no longer dared to touch me, but she still claimed that she loved me the most. However, she went on with her affair. I called Sam and said calmly, “Tanya only belongs to you, and she’ll be yours in the future.” After I ended the call, Tanya thought that I was jealous, so she comforted me. “I’ll always love you too.” However, I no longer wanted Tanya. We were separated for almost two years, so the court would grant our divorce.

On Christmas night, my husband, Finnick Carson, can't spend the holidays with me because he's on a business trip. In order to make it up to me, he's specifically ordered a Christmas feast from a fancy restaurant and has it delivered to our home. But when I open the box containing the feast, I'm shell-shocked by what I see. Not only an array of seafood—that I'm allergic to—is arranged in containers, but there's also a kid's meal set included in the feast. When the deliveryman sees the food, he apologizes to me and tells me that he's mixed up the two meals that Finnick has ordered. This leaves me feeling uneasy. Why would my husband order two meals? So, I decide to find my way to the delivery address that the other meal is meant for. Shockingly enough, I see Finnick standing in a villa's backyard while picking candies from a Christmas tree with a mother and a son. The little boy then rushes into his arms happily. "Daddy, I'd like an amusement park for my birthday gift this year!" Finnick pinches his cheek gently. "Okay. I'll give your mommy a set of jewelry, too." The woman cuddles with him happily. "You're so nice to us, honey!" Having recorded the entire scene quietly, I send it to my lawyer. "Help me expedite my divorce so that my husband can reunite with his family as soon as possible."

My fiancé was drugged at a party and spent the night tangled up with Isabelle Parson, the housekeeper's daughter. Afterward, Isabelle turned up pregnant, and Adrian tore up our engagement right there at our engagement party. "Leah, Isabelle is carrying my child. I have to marry her. I know you still love me. After I marry Isabelle, you can keep being my lover." I agreed to break off the engagement on the spot, then turned around and married Gordon—the man I'd once refused in a family alliance. At my wedding, Adrian stood before the guests and mocked me with an icy smile. "So this is what you've sunk to without me—marrying a pauper on the verge of bankruptcy. I'm the richest man in Jeffolton City. All you have to do is beg, and I'll let you come back to me." I looked at him with a thin, distant smile. He still didn't know—whoever I marry would become the richest man in Jeffolton City.

When I was five, Mom and Dad took my little brother to the city for kindergarten and left me in a mountain village with my grandfather, who had dementia. Before they left, Dad told me to take care of Grandpa, watch the house, and protect the yard. Mom said I was the older brother, so I had to be sensible. They said that once they made enough money, they'd bring me to the city too. I didn't want to let go. I clung to Mom's leg and begged through tears, "Mom, please. I don't want to be separated from you." My tears and snot smeared across her expensive dress. She scolded me for being difficult, slapped my bottom until it swelled, and struck my face hard enough to break the skin. In the end, they didn't soften. They left and never came back. Three months later, when I was close to starving, I called Mom and begged her to send me something to eat. She snapped, irritated, "A boy who talks about being hungry every day? Why don't you just starve, then? How can there be nothing to eat in the countryside? "Your father and I are under so much pressure in the city. Can't you be sensible for once?" Her words came true. That winter, I starved to death. Five years later, Mom pushed open the rotten door. "Miles," she called. "Mom's back."