Life doesn't always give a second chance!

Life doesn't always give a second chance!

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WpMetadataReadComplete Mon, Aug 1, 2016<5 mins
It was 18th august morning. We all were waiting eagerly for her to come and were just dying to hear her speak. There was silence in the house; no one even looked at each other. And after a few hours, she came home. Lying on a stretcher, carried on shoulders, she entered the house. I don't know why everyone was addressing her as "the body has arrived", but for me, my grandma had come home. Yes, I was too numb to realize any other thing. As I went close to her, it seemed that she was still sleeping, and she would soon call out my name. I touched her forehead, it was cold. I called her name, but she didn't respond. Tears were rolling down my cheeks. It was hard to believe that she wouldn't call my name anymore. They dressed her up in her favourite suit, the one in which she always looked beautiful. she was now ready to depart. Only if she could see that so many people had come just to visit her, she would have been happy. But she was sleeping calmly, like a baby. TO BE CONTINUED....
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wattys
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βπ€ππ―πšπ’π­ 𝐬𝐒𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐒𝐚 & 𝐌𝐒𝐀𝐬𝐑𝐚 π’π’π§π π‘πšπ§π’πšβž I should not feel anything for someone who is my enemy, someone who has caused me so much pain that the very thought of him should fill me with nothing but rage and bitterness. Yet, against all logic, I feel it-I feel the heat rising beneath my skin . The mere idea of his touch sends shivers down my spine, igniting sensations that I desperately want to ignore. This isn't right. I shouldn't crave the presence of someone I despise, but my body betrays me, responding to him in ways that my mind fiercely rejects. He stands so close that his breath fans across my face, warm and intimate, stirring emotions that I refuse to acknowledge. A slight movement is all it would take for our lips to meet, for this unbearable tension to shatter into something far more dangerous. His hands are braced on either side of my head, trapping me, yet he doesn't need to touch me to make me feel trapped. His body hovers just out of reach, yet I can sense him, every inch of him, as if the air itself is an extension of his presence. I shouldn't desire this man. I shouldn't want to close the gap, to feel the press of his body against mine. I should be repulsed, disgusted by how my thoughts betray my hatred. But my body doesn't listen to reason , it yearns for what it shouldn't, driven by instincts I can't control. I despise him-my enemy- My rival-but the line between hatred and desire is blurring, and I'm terrified of which side I might fall on. {𝖠 π—Œπ—π–Ίπ—‡π–½π–Ίπ—…π—ˆπ—‡π–Ύ } | | Mature content 18+| |

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