His Wife Of Forcèd Fate ✓

Chapter - 8

One day, as she sincerely cleaned out the cupboard, her fingers brushed against something tucked away in the corner. Pulling it out, she realized it was an album, its cover gathering dust from neglect. Curiosity piqued, she opened it, revealing a collection of photographs that seemed to tell a story of a time long past.

As she turned the pages, her eyes fell upon a particular photograph that seemed to hold a piece of his history, she had never encountered before. There, captured in that frame, was her husband and his late wife, locked in a moment of sheer happiness. The late wife was hauntingly beautiful, her eyes radiating a joy that seemed to travel time. Beside her, he stood with a look of pure adoration, a smile on his lips that lightened the entire room. It was a smile she had yet to witness, and it tugged at something deep within her.

As she continued to flipped through the pages, it was as if she was uncovering a hidden part of his past. Their smiles, their laughter, the shared moments - each photograph was a evidence to the love they had once shared. And specially it was, a picture that caught her attention the most - him, smiling so genuinely, so hauntingly, as if all his worries had faded away in that moment.

For the first time, she saw a side of him that had remained hidden from her - a man who had once known happiness, who had been capable of affection and joy. The photographs painted a picture of a love story that had been interrupted by tragedy, a story that he had locked away behind closed doors.

she saw him in a different light - not just as the distant and reserved man she had known since their marriage, but as a person who had once experienced a love that had filled his heart with undeniable warmth. The photograph felt like a window into a world he had never shared with her, a world that held laughter, tenderness, and a love that had left its mark on his soul.

She realized the man she was with once knew how to love, how to be happy, but at present, he was just cold towards her and especially towards himself.

As she traced the outlines of their figures on the aged photograph, she found herself lost in imagination. She wondered about the stories behind those smiles, the moments that had led to that captured expression of pure joy. The photograph held a certain magic, as if it was a key that unlocked a part of him that he had carefully tucked away. There was a sense of intrusion, of stumbling upon something deeply personal. Yet, there was also a strange connection forming within her - a realization that they both carried their own burdens, their own pasts, and their own struggles.

The hauntingly beautiful smile in that photograph lingered in her mind, its impact undeniable. She found herself wondering about the story behind that smile, the moments that led to that captured instance of pure happiness.

Just as her thoughts began to wander, the door to the room creaked open, and he walked in.

His sudden presence in the room had startled her, his stern gaze met hers. The air was charged with a tension that seemed to hang between them, heavy and unspoken. She managed a sheepish smile, feeling caught in an act of unintentional intrusion.

As he walked into the room, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space of the room, he immediately noticed her sitting on the edge of the bed, an album in her hands. His expression darkened at the sight, a expression of surprise and anger flashing across his face in the dark lighting.

"What are you doing with that?" he demanded sharply, his voice cutting through the silence of the room.

Caught off guard by his sudden presence in room and the intensity of the way he spoke and his tone, she quickly closed the album, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught exploring something so personal and important to him.

"I... I was just... I just found it in the cupboard while cleaning," she stammered, her voice slowing down as she struggled to find an explanation.

Before she could utter an apology, his demeanor shifted abruptly. His expression turned cold, and without a word, His voice turned sharp, cutting through the air with a chilling edge. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, his fingers gripping her shoulders forcefully, sending a jolt of pain through her.

"Don't you ever touch my wife's things again," he growled, his grip that left her feeling trapped and vulnerable. His words were a biting reprimand, and she could feel his anger radiating off him. The intensity of his response left her stunned, her heart pounding in her chest.

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "You have no right to meddle with my past, with my wife's things. Don't try to play the role that isn't yours - of being my wife."

Her breath caught in her throat, a mix of fear and disbelief forming within her. The pain from his grip was matched by the pain of his words. The forcefulness of his actions and the harshness of his tone shattered any sign of any piece of connection that might have been forming between them.

As he finally released his grip and turned away, she was left standing there, her shoulders throbbing from the impact and pain of his harsh hold. The album felt like a heavy weight in her hands, its contents suddenly transformed into a source of turmoil and tension. Her gaze followed him as he left the room, leaving behind a wake of confusion and hurt.

Slowly, she sank onto the edge of the bed, her fingers slowly rubbing her sore shoulders. The album lay beside her, a harsh reminder for her of the boundaries she had unknowingly crossed. The pain in his touch, both physical and emotional, reverberated through her, leaving her struggling with a mix of emotions - hurt, frustration, and a growing determination to understand the man behind the walls he had formed.

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