His Undying Love

His Undying Love

  • WpView
    Reads 4,906
  • WpVote
    Votes 395
  • WpPart
    Parts 19
WpMetadataReadOngoing2h 6m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Aug 31, 2025
My love for her has always been silent. She's unaware of my feelings for her beautiful soul and how I want to make her mine. The bitter reality is that she's in love with another man and that stings me the most. A man should be happy to see her bride in beautiful red wedding attire but i am nervous... I am nervous to see her hollow eyes.. I am nervous to see her robotic steps.. I am nervous to see her face full of makeup but missing smile.. I am nervous to see her so soul less.. I am nervous to see her hatred towards me.. I am nervous to make eye contact with her.. I am nervous that I am jeopardizing my friendship with her...and my this step I don't know where it will lead us.. But I know I have to do this... Few words from the story! "What now Vedant? Are you going to display me as your prized possession or show me as a wife because no one ever loved you neither you were able to find love for yourself? Did you envy that much of us? You were unable to see someone in love so you simply demolished it. I made a fool of myself considering you my best friend and hoping you know me better." she burst out in anger. I can see a lot of hate and anger in her eyes for me. I just can't look into it. So, I simply lowered my vision like a criminal who just confessed and is ready to hear the punishment decided by the judge. Yes, A criminal waiting for punishment, or I can say her criminal. Her umber brown hold only one question that hits me with a pang of guilt, on so many different levels. "Why are you doing this to me?" And like a coward I am and as a habit of mine, I just avert my eyes from her. I don't dare to hold eye contact with her, for more than a few seconds. I realize, that I never had the guts to do so. Meet Vedant and Trisha....two old friends getting into something new...
All Rights Reserved
#670
chicklit
WpChevronRight
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • His Name In Every Line
  • Yearning Hearts - a saga of destiny
  • 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚 ~𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 (  𝐃𝐮𝐞𝐭 #𝟐 ) ( Under Editing)
  • His Arranged Wife
  • Living hell
  • FALLING FOR HER ✓
  • Love In The South
  • Bound by love till eternity (Completed)
  • HIS OBSESSION
  • My Gifted Love (✓)

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the blur of soft golden lights and the scent of fresh roses lingering heavily in the air. The room around her was beautifully adorned-delicate drapes, scattered petals, and the faint echo of wedding music still humming somewhere in the distance. But something felt wrong. Terribly wrong. Her breath caught in her throat as unease curled deep within her chest. Why was she here? This wasn't her dream. This wasn't her moment. It was her step-sister's wedding. So why was she the one waking up in this bridal chamber... as if she had been written into a story that was never hers? Her heart pounded as she turned toward the ornate mirror across the room. But the moment her gaze met her reflection, her world shattered. A strangled scream tore from her lips. The heavy door burst open. People rushed in, their faces draining of color, horror settling into every expression. But one pair of eyes didn't hold shock. One pair of eyes... burned with something far darker. Something that felt like anger... like possession... like a truth she didn't yet understand. Her trembling gaze fell back to the mirror. The black beaded mangalsutra around her neck- It wasn't hers. The vermilion boldly streaked across her hairline- It was never meant for her. It was meant for her step-sister. But now... it marked her. Aavya Verma. As if somewhere, in lines she never wrote, in a fate she never chose... his name had already been etched into hers. And in one cruel twist of destiny, she was bound in a marriage she never wanted-wrapped in traditions that now felt more like chains than blessings. The vermilion on her forehead wasn't love. It was a mark. Of betrayal. Of a decision made without her. Of a story rewritten without her consent. She was never meant to be the bride. But she became one. Not by choice... Not by love... But because somewhere... somehow... she had been written into him- his name in every line of a life she never chose.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines