The Unravelling Book Novels & Stories

With a cry of ecstasy, I let the overwhelming tide of sensation wash over me, my entire being shaking. BOOK REVIEW PLEASE! THANK YOU!

** BOOK 2 ** TITLE: MARRYING MY EX'S UNCLE

With one final piercing look, I turn and disappear into the shadows, leaving her alone with her resolve and the daunting uncertainty of what lies ahead. I turn the key in the lock, my tired body aching from a long day at work. Stepping into the familiar warmth of our home, I couldn't help but feel a slight knot of worry in my stomach. The memory of that bloody handkerchief, tucked away in the closet, was still fresh in my mind.

And now life is deciding that I shouldn’t be able too. “How long do I have?” I ask in anticipation of a morbid response. It’s not that I wanted to know, I needed to. I don’t like to start things I’ll leave unfinished. Unfinished won’t get you a legacy. Unfinished is the end of a story only it doesn’t actually have an ending. Will I even have an ending? I’m spiraling when I hear the doctor respond.

But enough to warn them: The unraveling had not paused. It had only just begun.

The bond ripping apart—thread by thread. Not severed. But unraveling, unraveling fast.

It was here, amidst the hushed whispers of knowledge, that Jasmine’s life took an unexpected turn. She had come to return a book, a first edition of Pride and Prejudice that her grandmother had gifted her. It was irreplaceable, a piece of her family’s history, and she’d been meticulous about keeping it safe. But in her haste to grab a book on the top shelf, she’d accidentally swapped it with someone else’s. When she realized her mistake, she’d already left the library, and the book she’d taken home was not hers. The book she’d ended up with was a first edition of The Great Gatsby, its cover embossed with gold lettering.

Focus, Aurela. I moved on to books about wolves—the bond, the instincts, how to build a connection with your inner wolf. That part hit something deeper. I’d been caging mine all along. Not out of fear, but neglect. I’d never even tried to reach her. Never given her a name. Never invited her in. A flicker of guilt sparked inside me. So I closed the book and sat still. Focused. A name was at the tip of my tongue... Zira, I called quietly.

I rolled up my sleeve, revealing a dark scar across the back of my hand. "My hand was broken. As for why, I don't need to remind you, do I? You think your theatrical wounds compare to the fact that I can never hold a scalpel again? Do they compare to the years I spent in fear, not knowing if I'd live to see the next day? "It was my own blindness back then that led me to love someone so completely unworthy. "But because of that humiliating chapter of my life, I've come to recognize the man truly worth giving my life to.