All Chapters of My Husband's Vengeful Hatred: Chapter 51 - Chapter 59

Meera ~"Why don't you just kill me Abram? I am tired , please kill me I can't do this anymore. " I sobbed as the pain surged in my body. I should have prepared myself for getting hurt. But for a fleeting moment when I saw peace in his eyes when he was standing at my doorway made me believe him, that maybe he won't hurt me like this. But now this, all the pain he has put me through came back with a force. And this room, these four walls are suffocating me, that I couldn't even breath properly. I closed my eyes letting the tears fall from my eyes. "You think I did this on purpose? " My eyes flung open and I glared at him through my teary vision, and frown etched between his eyebrows. I didn't say anything and he leaned down, staring into my eyes, I trembled as he caressed my cheek and a yelp escaped through my throat as he turned me over, on my front. My heartbeat fastened as he started to hike up my crop top and I heard a sharp intake of breath from him. I clenched my eyes shut

Jessica~ I froze in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. My mind struggled to process what my eyes had just seen. Oh. Oh no. I looked at my son and his wife, mortified. They were naked, and I could see that they were doing the deed. He was holding her from behind, not letting go. Heat flooded my face, my fingers tightening around the pie dish I had brought, as if it could somehow shield me from the absolute horror of this moment. I hadn’t meant to barge in. I had knocked. Hadn’t I? Oh, God. Had I knocked? I coughed and, without saying a word, left the room. I squeezed my eyes shut. Nope. Not happening. I cannot process this. This was my son. My baby. And his wife—my jaw clenched as their intimate moment burned into my memory. I hurried down to the kitchen, filled a glass with cold water, and gulped it down, trying to calm my anxiety. How could he touch her like this? Didn’t he swear that he hated her? And now, he let her into his room—how could he do this just for a

Meera~I sat on the floor, tired. I bit my inner cheek, trying not to cry. My eyes glossed over, and just like that, traitorous tears dropped from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks.He is trying to change the last shred of me, trying to mold me into something I am not and could never be.I glanced around the closet full of luxury clothes with expensive brands, high heels, bags—everything a fashion girl would dream of.But I don't.My old clothes, without any fanciness, were donated to some NGO.Yes, I was born into a rich family, but this is not me. I don't like fanciness; I like simplicity. But who cares about what I like? It's what my dad liked, and now, it's what my husband likes.These clothes are not me. I am not this way, and now he is forcing me to be something like this. He knows I don't wear such revealing clothes, yet he is making me realize that he is the one who holds power.I am a mere puppet, dancing on his strings.I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, taking a shaky

Abram~The silence hung in the thick air, suffocating me. I loosened the tie around my neck and opened two buttons with a single hand.None of us spoke as I drove the car in eerie silence. My grip tightened around the steering wheel as her words from earlier echoed in my ears like venom."You are free to hurt me, but do it without this facade, without this pretense."The weight of her words settled in my chest like lead. I wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but I knew better.The city lights blurred past the windshield, neon reflections casting fractured colors across her face. She sat beside me, staring out the window, arms wrapped around herself as if shielding herself from an invisible storm.A storm that is me.I stole a glance at her—at the way her fingers trembled ever so slightly against the fabric of her dress. She wasn't crying, but the silence between us was louder than any scream.The pain in her voice still cut deep.Does she really think I am pretending to be gen

Meera~Warmth.A steady, firm heat pressed against my back, an arm draped protectively over my waist, fingers lightly resting on my stomach as if afraid to let go. A slow, rhythmic rise and fall of a chest against me, and the sound of deep, even breathing filled the quiet room.Abram.My eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soft light filtering through the curtains. For a few moments, I just lay there, unmoving, trying to piece together the remnants of the night before.I looked at him, and my heart skipped a beat. His hair was falling over his forehead, and he was exuding innocence.I raised my hand to push away the hair and stare at him all day, but I refrained.Did he bring me here to his bed? But why? He doesn’t like sleeping with me in the same bed. And then, piece by piece, I realized—nightmare.No. Terror filled me, and I tried to move away from his hold. But as soon as I moved, his grip tightened, pulling me closer. A low, sleepy groan rumbled from his chest, his lips ghosting