The Deserted Woman Novels & Stories

She buried her face in the pillow, seeking solace in its familiar embrace, longing for the comfort it couldn’t offer. The room felt colder, the silence louder than ever before, as she grappled with the sting of abandonment and the haunting question of why he left without a word. Confusion and hurt mingled in her thoughts, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. She realised that, without realising, the damn man had found a way to enter her heart, and she knew right then and there that there was no hope. Kade Wilson never tied himself to any woman, and he charmed a lot: models, famous actresses, ordinary beauties, rich heiresses.

‘I know this place isn’t classy for someone like you, but this is what I can afford’ She was so humble that every word of hers melted his heart. ‘Let me take care of you Jennet’ Stanley said with a sincere tone. -- Jennet was shaking out of her thought because of Stanley’s phone, he forgot his phone? She checked the caller’s id but it was not saved, since Stanley wasn’t around. she connected the call and placed it by her ears. ‘Sir, we found the location of Mrs. Williams…she is at San Idro’ the man said and Jennet tightened her grip on the phone. She hung up and texted him instead, ‘Where is San Idro?’ she typed then sent.

Ethan assured. A middle aged woman appeared before her with two others, who dragged her to a room while she struggled with them. An hour passed and they were done. She looked at herself in the mirror and realized she was all dolled up. She appeared before Ethan, who stood up immediately upon seeing her, and gestured for her to take a seat. "She looks exactly like her" , the maids murmured among themselves, an action of theirs which caused Ethan to command them to disperse. Ethan looked at her in awe, swallowed an invisible lump in his throat, thereby clearing his throat, " You look beautiful, I never knew your size could be this sexy"

A dark abandoned parking lot behind an building-secluded, away from any eyes. The air was thick, humid, carrying the scent of damp concrete and rusting metal. My fingers curled into fists as I exhaled sharply, forcing my breath to even out. My body felt heavy, exhausted from days of no sleep, from the endless fears swirling inside my chest. My thoughts wouldn't stop torturing me. Kiyara. Kiyara, locked behind bars, her eyes dull, lifeless. The woman who once looked at me with mischief and love now stared at me like I was a stranger.

the woman muttered, playing with her fingers and looking down at her feet. “Oh! honey don't be shy.”the man replied in his low husky voice. “I..I..need some time .”she stuttered. “Take as much time as you want but I want you on my bed otherwise .-” he finally spoke, sending chills down the woman's spine. “You know that's not done. ”she says with nervousness . Water was still dripping down from her hair, her sight was lowered and she was still playing with her fingers when the man pulled her towards him, taking her into his embrace.

“There’s nothing wrong with breaking her legs to keep her. Or chaining her to the bed. She’s mine.” She was looking for freedom. He gave her obsession—wrapped in tenderness. Genesis Caldwell thought escaping her abusive home meant salvation—but her arranged marriage to billionaire Kieran Blackwood might be its own kind of prison. He’s possessive, controlling, dangerous. Yet in his own broken way… he’s gentle with her. To Kieran, Genesis isn’t just a wife. She’s everything. And he’ll protect what’s his. Even if it means destroying everything else.

The needle in my palm is silent. Soren's voice lingers in the wind. *"The sea always collects what it's owed."* --- The desert isn't empty. A woman watches from a dune, her silhouette haloed by the green-starved sky. She wears a cloak of stitched veils, each frayed edge whispering of dead timelines. Her face is a scar, her eyes twin voids. "You're late," she says. "But then, you always were, *Stormbearer*." Eden staggers upright. "Who are you?"

THE WITCH OF THE WASTE Damian maneuvered the boat alongside the rotting wooden pier. We stepped out. The wood creaked ominously under our weight. The air smelled of herbs, burning plastic, and swamp gas. The figure on the dock didn't move. She was short. Tiny, actually. She wore layers of mismatched rags—silks, wools, and furs sewn together with copper wire. Her hair was a cloud of wild white frizz, stuck with twigs and feathers. She leaned on a staff made from a car's driveshaft, topped with a glowing quartz crystal. She looked like a crazy homeless woman. Until you saw her eyes. They were violet. Sharp, intelligent, and utterly devoid of fear. "You're late," she rasped. Her voice sounded l

She replied calmly. ‘Of course, he wasn’t coming home.’ she heaved disappointedly. Her fingers traced his side of the bed once more. Deep down, she wished that Derek would come home like he always did after a fight. They’d kiss, make out, and have some of the best sex, but this time it was different. She could tell. Her heart sank in sadness when she realized there might be more and more nights like this. Now that Chantelle was working under him, Derek would have less reasons to come back home.

Instead, I barely glanced at it before dropping onto the bed to sleep. For the next few days, Rodrick and Colby rented a derelict house in the village, claiming they would renovate it and make big money off it someday. I didn't want to dampen their spirits since I had no idea what their actual plans were. Lately, gossip and whispers had started circulating in the village. They were coming from women whose husbands were mostly away working and gone most of the year. I knew their game; they were just jealous and bitter of my looks and figure. Most of them were just resentful that a woman my age didn't know her place and was supposedly seducing men in the village.