We will not fulfill any book request that does not come through the book request page or does not follow the rules of requesting books. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Comments are manually approved by us. Thus, if you don't see your comment immediately after leaving a comment, understand that it is held for moderation. There is no need to submit another comment. Even that will be put in the moderation queue.

Please avoid leaving disrespectful comments towards other users/readers. Those who use such cheap and derogatory language will have their comments deleted. Repeat offenders will be blocked from accessing this website (and its sister site). This instruction specifically applies to those who think they are too smart. Behave or be set aside!

Housewife: Chapter 45

SAINT

SIX DAYS LATER

Silence surrounds me as I huddle in the corner, lost in thought.

My mind yearns for your presence, desperately hoping for your return. But deep within, I know it’s just a wishful dream that can never come true.

My tears fall like raindrops, a soft and gentle drizzle that masks the deep sorrow that grips my soul. I can sense your presence beside me, silently holding my hand and comforting me in my time of pain.

This grief has taken over my life, leaving me drowning in a sea of despair.

An endless abyss of loneliness and heartache.

I’m torn between the acceptance of your death and the anger of why fate chose to take you instead of me. It feels like a selfish emotion, but it’s hard not to feel it.

Everything around me is still, but within me, a fierce storm of emotions rages on.

In a desperate plea to Fate, I raised my voice to the heavens, beseeching death to take me in her stead.

Irena deserved to chase her dreams, to bask in the warmth of the sun while lay six feet under. The silence that followed only amplified the rage and disbelief that raged within me, tearing at my heart and soul.

With tears streaming down my face, I held you in my arms as you exhaled your final breath. My heart shattered into a million pieces, unable to reconcile the fact that you were truly gone. Every fiber of my being screamed that this was just a horrific nightmare, a twisted figment of my imagination.

But it was not so. The piercing agony of reality settled in, mercilessly tormenting me with the knowledge that the love of my life had been taken from me. In the midst of that pain, I couldn’t help but remember the way your skin glowed with a golden radiance, basking in the warm embrace of the sun. A stark contrast, now, to the ashen hue that coated your fragile form.

My soul mate was gone, leaving behind only the nightmare of grief as a cruel reminder that life is both beautiful and unpredictable.

The enigma behind why you had to leave remains an unsolvable puzzle.

Even if someone attempted to explain it, the chaos it would bring to my heart would remain unchanged.

The fragility of love has dawned upon me, leaving grief and longing to fill its place. The memories we shared and the moments that were once effortless have now ceased to exist, living only in my mind. As I try to numb the anger, the longing for you remains constant.

The reality of my predicament is painfully clear, and I refuse to live this way. Each day I wake up, aware that I won’t be able to hear your infectious laugh or feel the tenderness of your gentle touch. The absence of those brown eyes, which shone like honey under the sun, seem to darken the days. I miss making love and savoring your delicious cookies. I miss bringing your favorite white roses daily.

As I stand under the moon talking to you, I know that you won’t answer me.

We had envisioned our future: happily ever after. A picturesque scene of us, aging gracefully on a tropical beach as our children frolicked in the shimmering waves. It was a vow we had made to each other, etched in our hearts.

Yet, fate had other plans, refusing to grant us what we yearned for, what we craved, what we needed – what was meant to be.

Our story did not end in bliss. It was just a mere fantasy, a figment of our imagination.

You left too soon Irena, I wasn’t done loving you.

Her eyes stole my heart, her smile gave me life. Her presence made me high and her touch left me breathless.

With her captivating eyes, her smiling lips, and her mere presence, Irena had captured my heart. Her touch made me weak in the knees, leaving me breathless and reeling with love.

But this is not the end. As I promised, we will meet again in echoes where the end begins. A place where your soul and mine will intertwine, forever united.

Dressed impeccably in a sleek black suit, I stand tall and proud, emanating the essence of a refined gentleman on this unforgettable day.

My chest trembles with emotion as I hear the doors glide open and I behold the sight – the pristine white casket bearing your earthly remains, lifted with the utmost care.

Their movements are measured and harrowing, each step wrought with reverence as they set you down at the altar. The lid, concealing you from mortal sight, is gently hinged open for all to pay their respects.

The sacred chapel glows with tranquil beauty, adorned with the sweetest scent of your treasured white roses.

Your favourite.

Each step I take towards you is heavy with overwhelming grief, my heart aching to feel the warmth of your embrace once again.

As I gazed upon her face, a serenity had taken hold, bringing with it a gentle smile that seemed to dance across her frigid complexion. Drawn by her calm, I leaned in for one final embrace, my lips connecting with hers as I savoured the moment.

As we lingered in our embrace, memories cascaded through my mind, each one a treasure to hold close. My eyes drifted to the ring that glimmered on her finger, a symbol of our grand plans for a wedding in Morocco, now reduced to this final goodbye.

But despite the sadness that enveloped us both, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace settle over me, knowing that she had found solace in her final moments.

She finally confessed her love to me and that will be the one thing that I’ll carry proudly to my grave.

Staring at her I sigh. My heart ached at the sight.

This was my wedding day and this was her funeral.


Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Options

not work with dark mode
Reset