His Stolen Heart

His Stolen Heart

Ankita Ghosh

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Love is invincible no one can resist it when it knock on your heart. You can fight you can protest but at the end you have to surrender to it. Something like that happen to our protagonists as well who thought that they are incapable of love and loving someone. What happened when Hearts got stole in an unexpected situation? But Is it that easy that it seems like? It's more complicated then you think it is This story will give you tears and leave a smile on your lips as well So join the journey of our leads to know more about their life

Chapter 1 Prologue

I'm looking at the mirror in front of me. The mirror is showing me a beautiful girl in bridal attire.

The mangalsutra (nuptial chain) is hanging on her neck and Sindur (vermilion) is filled on her hair partition screaming that she is now someone's wife. She is taken and marked.

She is looking gorgeous with everything but her smile has faded away from her lips

Till now she was happy, really she was and why won't she be? After all she got married to the person she loved. Who loved her or she thought he did.

The room is decorated for my wedding night with my husband.

"why did you do this with me? Why? I loved you. I really did. I thought you also did but how wrong I was. From my childhood I got only the tag of being cursed. I believe that I am really cursed but then you came to change that but again you proved I'm cursed. Don't worry about me I won't be there to ruin your or my life any more. "I thought and took a candle stand and throw it on the mirror making it shatter in pieces just like my life and heart

The room is soundproof so no one will hear it, it's not like anyone else is here except us.

I looked at the room once again that had our pictures decorated on the walls.

I love you very much and it hurts to know that you don't. It's very painful. And I want to be free from this pain.

I sat on the bed our bed that is decorated with rose petals and a white silk sheet is placed

White sheet to be ruined with my blood, my virginity blood...

I looked at my hand that was holding a sharp glass piece.

I noticed my hand carefully. It is decorated with henna that has left a dark colour on my hand.

His name is decorated on my hand just like my heart...

Red and white chura bangles are giving my wrists a perfect look.

I got up and switched off the lights and blew off the candles making the room dark just like Me life..

I already wrote a note so he won't be in trouble after me.

I sat on the bed and made a gap in my chura bangles so my wrist can be seen clearly.

I again looked at the glass piece and then my hand...

Taking a long and deep breath I kissed his photo that was kept on the side table and I picked it up before switching off the lights.

"I love you," I said and made a big gash on my wrist making me hiss in pain

I laid down on the bed keeping my hand on the white sheet.

Blood is flowing down as the cut is deep.......

I can't see but I know that the bed sheet is now ruined with my blood. Not virginity blood but my life losing blood.

It must be looking red.. The colour of love and the colour of death....

Hugging his photo close to my heart I kept remembering our time together that we spent until my vision started to get blurry making me know that I'm losing it.

Finally I'm losing my life and getting the peace I wanted.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the darkness with a smile on my lips.

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"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years-three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined-he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken-to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end-almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me-only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!

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