Why Is Isha Mute Novels & Stories

Does he always have to beg for her company? Isa was just mute. She wasn't in a haste to get back home because of her husband or because she was scared of him. She doesn't want to betray her heart and decisions at this point as she has decided not to fall for any man again. But right now, it seems as if she is losing her mind around him and wants to run for her life. Suddenly, she heard the central locking sound of the door. What is going on? Does he want to lock the doors and do something to her? She thought, narrowing her eyes in fear.

The rejection had done that to both of us. I didn't think about Damon Wells. I had trained myself out of it the same way you train yourself out of any bad habit with repetition and stubbornness and the occasional slip that you forgave yourself for quickly and moved on from. Some mornings I went entire hours without the ghost of that severed bond making itself known. That felt like progress. Isla finished her toast and held up the tablet. On the screen, a cartoon wolf was howling at a cartoon moon. "Mama," she said, "why do wolves howl?"

Spiritually, I live with two miniature CEOs and one large Latin family that thinks sugar is a vitamin. “MAXIME!” Issa’s voice rang out. Okay. I looked up. Issa was standing in front of the big mirror, one little hand pressed to a butterfly-shaped hair clip. It was snapped on one side. Max stood two steps behind her, trying very hard to look innocent. Total failure. “He broke my butterfly,” Issa said, her voice shaking. “This was my favorite personality.” “How can a clip have a personality?” Max said. Issa spun around so fast her lemon-yellow dress swirled with her. “Everything has personality!”

Zane asked, looking at Lucien confused. "Quit being a whiny child, Zane. She is not angry with you, the thing is she is mute and I'm the only one that can communicate with her." "And she hasn't said anything bad about you so far, but who knows maybe soon." Lucien explained to him, I watched as Zane's face changed from one of confusion to pity. He didn't seem grossed out by the fact that I was mute. Others would have looked at me like I was a freak or something.

The room was completely silent, cameras already recording, reporters waiting with pens poised over notepads. I leaned toward the microphone and spoke. "My name is Isla Brennan." My voice came out clear and steady despite the slight hoarseness. The effect was immediate and dramatic. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Reporters who'd been told I was mute looked shocked. Cameras flashed more intensely. In the back row, my family's faces drained of color. They hadn't known. They'd truly believed I was still unable to speak. "For most of my life, I've been silent," I continued, forcing myself to keep going. "When I was seven years old, my mother died in a car accident. The trauma stole my voice. I

"It has been too long. Can we talk? Even just for a few minutes?" I looked at him. I thought about the last thing he had ever said to me — the real last thing, not the softened version I sometimes allowed myself to remember, but the actual words. Does being mute mean you are stupid too?” I thought about sitting alone at that table while couples celebrated around me, blinking back tears I refused to shed in public, walking four blocks home on shaking legs to find police officers in my living room. I shook my head and signed. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Everywhere. Blood. Tasting. In. Mouth. Lip. Split. From. Impact. From. Rage. From. Madness. “Shut. Up.” Isabella said. Deadly. Calm. Now. Scarier. Than. Screaming. “You. Don’t. Get. To. Talk. About. His. Love. About. His. Heart. About. Anything.” She. Released. Chin. Stepping. Back. Breathing. Heavy. Trying. To. Calm. Failing.

“Boss. I couldn’t reach you. Too many. But we held them off. Got one alive in the truck.” “What about my men?” I asked, though I already knew. Silence. “They’re all gone.” I closed my eyes for a second. “I’ll be out soon.” I ended the call. Walking back into the dim room, my eyes landed on Isa. She hadn’t moved. Legs pulled to her chest. Hands clenched. Her head bowed like she was praying. And her eyes… still shut. She’d listened. I knelt and touched her shoulder. She jolted, let out a short scream then opened her eyes and collapsed into me, her arms wrapping around my neck with the kind of desperation that made me pause.

“Why you here, huh? You mute? Don’t you know it’s disrespectful not to answer when a man’s talkin’ to you?” I cleared my throat, praying they wouldn’t hear the crack in it. I’m here because of Isabella. No way in hell am I letting these vultures scare me back into the car. I’ll stand my ground…though, truth be told, my legs are voting for a full sprint in the opposite direction.

“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.