When A Pisces Woman Goes Silent

Alyssa never expected her life to get this bad. A sudden rogue attack wiped off her pack, turning her into a mute and wolfless orphan. She once believed that being mated with her crush Ezekiel was compensation for her miserable life. However, it just made her life worse. What could be more suffering than your fated mate unwanting you and even your child? Ezekiel already picked himself a perfect Luna but fate gave her a mute mate. And owing to his father's last words, he had to marry Alyssa to get his rightful Alpha position. He married her yet kept their relationship unpublized. He hated her but wasn't ready to let her go. Everyone believed Alyssa would bear and wait like she always did until Ezekiel finally could make a decision. He's her husband, her mate, and her Alpha, and taking in everything he wanted without complaining was her duty. No one expected she would be the one who asked for a divorce and even dared to run away carrying his heir. Ezekiel swore to make this little omega pay but why did his heart break when she returned smiling at some other guy?

For five years, Nyelle loved a husband who never loved her back. Treated as nothing more than a substitute for the woman he truly wanted, she finally decides to walk away. But before leaving, she starts a dangerous game from the shadows. Using a hidden identity, the mute wife begins blackmailing her own husband, uncovering secrets, exposing lies, and making him pay for every tear she shed. What happens when the husband she wants to destroy becomes obsessed with the mysterious stranger on the other end of the phone?

DUA AGHA KHAN. Dua agha Khan is a 28 year old woman trying to make her way through the judging gazes of people around her, being mute and divorced in a Desi society, she was gifted with criticism, harassment and Unhealed trauma. Her passion was writing began when she lost her voice admist the hustle of her haunting past and she had never felt more lucky to have become one of the finest writer out there. Escaping an abusive marriage was a hard task that almost cost her, her life. Surviving as a mute girl in the society she is met with yet problem of being arranged for a second marriage. It wasn’t something that she wanted, it wasn’t something that she would’ve probably looked forward to but it was happening. Not having the courage to say no she’soff to another ride of what seemed like an endless tunnel of darkness for her. RAZA SHOAIB Raza Shoaib is a 32 year old man with a serious personality. He doesn’t like getting involved in much and like to stay in his own boundaries. After having his fiancée cheat on him and run away a day before their wedding the image of loyal women had been ruined in his mind. He wasn’t looking forward to get settled and was happy living the life of an infamous playboy when his father arranges his marriage with the daughter of his Best friend. The girl he never approved of, having his father constantly on his tail with sharp glares and words he says yes to the proposal but with an intention to bring hell upon the woman’s life.

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners. Three years of marriage and we barely spoke, but I still clung to the hope that maybe... maybe there was something real left. Then I heard him downstairs. "You really not letting your wife come down?" "Isabella?" He laughed. "She'd kill the vibe." Another voice chimed in. "Lina's back, right? Wild you married her twin. Which one do you actually like?" Jackson didn't miss a beat. "Isabella's just a stand-in. Quiet. Predictable. I could tell her to drop dead and she'd say 'okay.'" "So when are you ditching her?" "Dunno. She thinks she matters. I'm just playing her." I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob. A minute later, I was heading downstairs, numb. I brushed my fingers over my belly. "Sorry, babies," I whispered. Triplets. His. He thought I was blind. Weak. Stuck. What he didn't know? A quiet woman, once she snaps—she can burn it all down.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

I knock on the door, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to see him. “Come in,” Justin’s voice calls—cool, smooth, and frustratingly calm. I take a deep breath and walk in, holding the folder tightly. “Here’s the report you requested, sir.” He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps typing, his expression unreadable. “You’re late,” he says without missing a beat. I clench my jaw. “There was a delay at the printer—” “No excuses, Joanna. Just do better next time.” Ouch. Professional and cold. As always. I nod, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Yes, sir.” I turn to leave, gripping the doorknob—just one more second and I’ll be out of this weird tension-filled office— “Wait.” I freeze. I turn around slowly. “Yes?” Justin stands now, walking toward me. In his hand, a familiar brown paper bag. He holds it out. “You didn’t have lunch.” I blink. “I’m fine.” “You skipped breakfast too. Eat.” I hesitate. “What is it?” “Chicken pesto. No onions.” My breath catches. He still remembers? “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly. He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I just… remember things.” My fingers brush his as I take the bag. Warmth. Stupid warmth that shouldn’t still feel this familiar. Then, he looks at me—really looks at me. “You shouldn’t skip meals… wife.” Silence. My chest tightens. “Don’t call me that.” But my voice is too soft to sound convincing. I walk out before I say something I’ll regret. His words echo in my mind like a dangerous lullaby. Cold one second. Kilig the next. God… he’s still him. And that’s exactly the problem.