The The Dead Fiancé's Return: Too Late, She's His Uncle's Wife Now story is currently published to Chapter 8 and has received very positive reviews from readers, most of whom have been / are reading this story highly appreciated! Even I'm really a fan of Internet, so I'm looking forward to Chapter 8. Wait forever to have. @@ Please read Chapter 8 The Dead Fiancé's Return: Too Late, She's His Uncle's Wife Now by author Internet here.
Chapter 8
I heard about Ronan two months after our encounter at the hospital.
He was paralyzed from the waist down–wheelchair–bound for life.
In a desperate bid to win me back, he’d attempted to get a love charm from the same holy site I’d once visited for him.
He’d somehow managed to climb the perilous path to Tiger’s Nest Monastery–that ancient Buddhist temple perched impossibly on the Bhutanese cliffside.
But on his way down, his legs gave out. He tumbled down the rocky mountainside, bouncing off stone steps and jagged outcroppings.
In that remote wilderness, it took hours for anyone to find him. By then, the window for effective medical intervention had closed.
They say throughout the medevac flight, his bloodied fingers never loosened their grip on that precious charm.
He kept mumbling through cracked lips, “Anya’s waiting for me… we promised we’d be together forever…”
I barely registered the news. I had no mental space to spare for his drama.
I was fully absorbed in our family portrait session.
As Calix slipped his arm around my waist for the photo, he whispered with a hint of jealousy, “Feeling bad for him?”
I gave a soft laugh. “Not as bad as I feel for someone who secretly loved me for seven years without saying
a word.”
His ears turned pink as he looked away, though his arm tightened protectively around me.
Seeing this little moment between us, Karina wedged herself between our legs. “Hey! Don’t forget about me! I want cuddles too!”
Calix’s serious expression melted as he swept her up, gathering both of us in his embrace.
Driving home through downtown, I glimpsed Sylvia through the tinted window. She sat in a wheelchair missing several limbs, huddled against a building while being berated by what looked like debt collectors.
She was ranting incoherently, “I’m Mrs. Quinn! You pathetic losers aren’t fit to breathe the same air as
Chapter 8
me!”
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