All Chapters of His Widow : Chapter 51 - Chapter 59

"Drop whatever you have in your hand and raise your hands up."The thug’s voice was cold, steady, with the knife pressed threateningly against her neck. Asha stood frozen, her wide, tear-filled eyes fixated on Raghav. Fear shimmered in her gaze, the glistening tears catching the dim light, but the terror radiating from her was far more intense than the tears could convey. Raghav stood just a few steps away, his body taut with tension. Inside, his blood boiled as his gaze locked onto the knife, anger burning through him like wildfire. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and his hands fisted at his sides, but he knew he had to stay calm. For her. "Leave her," Raghav growled, his voice low but filled with barely contained rage.The thug smirked, tightening his grip on Asha. His eyes glinted with malice as he twisted the knife ever so slightly, causing Asha to flinch."Give me the keys," the thug hissed, his tone mocking. "And you'll get your wife."Wife?The situation was perilous, a

Asha's mind strained, searching for fragments of a memory she could barely grasp. Had she really done what he claimed? She couldn't remember. She didn’t have memory loss, not exactly, but even now, a faint hunch nagged at her, suggesting there might be some truth to his words. Yet, no concrete recollections surfaced. Too much had happened in her life, too many chaotic events layered one upon the other. How could she remember such details, especially from those tumultuous years when everything was random, haphazard, and she was only a child? “That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “You held a grudge over something a little girl might’ve done?” He leaned back, his expression calm as he rested a hand on his knee. His gaze settled on her, cool and detached. “I never held a grudge against you, Asha,” he replied, voice steady, almost dismissive. “Don’t go assuming things.” “Then why did you do all this to me?” she shot back, her voice tight with anger.

Only five days left, and somehow, time feels like it’s moving slower than ever. He's becoming stranger, in ways that I can’t quite wrap my mind around. He’s acting soft, almost gentle with me—and the fact that I find this behavior weird says a lot about the impression he’s left on me. I didn’t expect any softness from him, not after everything he’s done, everything he’s shown me about who he really is. Maybe things started shifting that day. Maybe he’s finally noticed how much his cruelty has affected me. Perhaps he’s softened because he saw the trauma he inflicted, or maybe he’s realized that I was never at fault to begin with—that it’s all a product of his own misguided assumptions, his projections. But this sudden change, this unexpected softness, feels almost as troubling as his previous coldness. Still, I can’t ignore that every benefit seems to come with a hidden cost. He may be gentler, yes, but now he’s becoming uncomfortably persistent, trying to engage me in conversatio

Her lips parted slightly in shock. Every new piece of information about his life left her more confused, more trapped in this strange, dangerous world he had forced her into. Noticing her reaction, he smirked. “Relax. My brother doesn’t kill people unless it’s necessary.” She looked down, willing her face to stay neutral. He didn’t need to see how unsettled she was. Living with him, she had learned to mask her emotions, knowing that any visible discomfort could make things worse. “Doesn’t your grandmother say anything about this?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “About you and your brother’s… profession?” He laughed outright at her question, the sound echoing off the kitchen walls. “She’s the one in charge. She keeps us in line. But she doesn’t approve of my brother’s work. It’s complicated. He joined the mafia to protect me. Back when I was in observation homes, I was safer there because of him.” “Eat,” he ordered, his voice firm, breaking her train of thought. Sh