Healing Marriage Short Stories & Novels

After being reborn, I quietly cut all ties with my husband, Nathaniel Cole. I go to work alone. I watch movies alone. Even when I cook, I only make enough for one. All because in my last life, I had married him only to be neglected for 40 years. At the very end, he coldly pulled the oxygen tube from me, spitting out words filled with hatred. "If I had a choice, I never would've married you!" I died in pain, filled with resentment. When I open my eyes again, my mother is speaking to me and my sister. "According to the marriage agreement, one of you has to marry Nathaniel. Which one of you will it be?" I'm just about to refuse when my sister, Catherine Brown, steps forward. She shoots me a contemptuous glance and says, "Mom, I'll marry him."

I was Victor Costa's sickly wife. He was the CEO of the Costa Group and had married me despite his family's objections. On the opening day of the Costa Foundation's centennial charity week, I passed out from low blood sugar on the livestream. My husband, Victor, was in Europe for meetings, and his sister, Isabella Costa, was sure I was faking again. But after Dr. Rossi examined me, he frowned and asked her, "She's been malnourished for a long time, and her prescription hasn't been refilled in at least three months. Doesn't anyone feed her?" The livestream comments exploded with laughter. [Mrs. Costa, malnourished? I'd sooner believe the Costa Group had gone bankrupt.] Everyone knew Victor set aside two million dollars a month for my care and had hired a private doctor and nutritionist just for me. Isabella thought I was overdoing it, too. That is, until she searched my bag and found half a pack of glucose tablets I'd been rationing, a prepaid card with only seven dollars left, and three declined-payment slips from the pharmacy. I said quietly, "Victor told me I only get $200 a month to live on. "My medicine is too expensive. If I stop taking it for a while, I won't die right away." Isabella called her brother on the spot. "You only give your wife $200 a month?" Victor's voice turned cold. "What do you mean, $200? "I sign off on two million dollars for her every month, and I've never pulled her medical team!"

The day I became the state's SATs valedictorian, my father, with his dyed blond hair, got so excited he put his food delivery helmet on crooked. He threw his arms around my mother, tears streaming down his face. "Honey! See that? I told you our genes were anything but ordinary! The curse's been lifted! Our son's gone and become the greatest of all time!" My mother, who had just dyed her hair purple, smacked her thigh as she shed tears of joy. "Bull! This is all because I quit the club scene for good and started selling grilled cheese sandwiches at the night market! God has seen my sincerity and rewarded us for it!" As I watched them celebrate like a pair of overgrown teenagers, I read the floating comments across my vision and had to blink away my tears. "You dummies, this has nothing to do with luck!" "You two swallowed so much bitterness just so your son could stand tall in public! Frankie over here got beaten and didn't dare fight back while Tanya pricked her fingers raw just to support his studies. You two sacrificed everything you had just so he could live well."

I'm the CEO of a publicly traded company, and I'm worth three billion dollars. Ten years ago, I dumped my broke boyfriend Ethan Shaw and left for Wall Street. Everyone said Vivian Quinn was cold-blooded and ruthless, a maniac who only cared about money. Then a car accident somehow transported me into another world. I woke up as a penniless housewife! Ethan Shaw, the ex who should have hated my guts, was suddenly my husband! And there was a five-year-old son tagging along. What a joke. How could I ever fall for a freeloader who spent all day in the kitchen or a pint-size boy who spent every day clinging to my leg? But just as I was determined to find my way back, I realized something wasn't right.

The first thing I did after rebirth was follow my husband, Franklin Wallace, to the island for his military deployment. In my previous life, as a spoiled rich heiress from a wealthy family, I looked down on Franklin, the commander my family had arranged for me to marry. We fought constantly, huge arguments every few days, small quarrels in between. After having children, I grew to resent our two kids simply because they carried Franklin's blood. Later, when Franklin was ordered to be stationed on the island, I was the first to stand up and object to going with him. Since I opposed it, Franklin did not force me. He took our two kids and his widowed sister-in-law, Elsie Faulkner, to the island instead. Meanwhile, my spoiled and rebellious self could not wait to throw myself into the arms of my first love, Reuben Sandoval, once Franklin left. However, it did not take long before I discovered Reuben was nothing but a gold-digging scumbag who only wanted my money and body. He gave me an STI and drained my family fortune completely. When Franklin returned from the island with our children, they no longer recognized me as their mother and affectionately called Elsie "Mommy" instead. He even told me he had fallen in love with Elsie during their time together on the island. Eventually, I ended up homeless on the streets and starved to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Franklin was about to leave for his island deployment.

At the Davenport family dinner, I arrive wearing the same dress Tucker Davenport's true love once wore. His face darkens immediately. He glares at me coldly and orders that my dress be burned on the spot. "Damn it, Willow, can't you show a little self-awareness? Shelby might be too naive to notice, but there's no way I'm letting you appear like this in front of her." The intense heat rushes toward me as the flames consume the fabric. A sharp, burning pain shoots between my legs, crashing over me like a tidal wave. The pain drags me under, but I suddenly jolt awake, barely able to gasp a plea for mercy. Tucker doesn't spare me a glance. He simply turns away to help Shelby cut the cake. Days later, he finally remembers I exist. "As long as you behave and don't bother Shelby again, you'll still be Mrs. Davenport." I stare at the burns on my legs as my tears dry up. I refuse to beg any longer. I'm done being Mrs. Davenport.

When I was little, a car accident left me with a strange ability. I could see how many times I would meet each person in my life. One morning, the number above our neighbor Jenny's head changed to "one." She said hi to me, and by noon, her whole family had moved to England. I never saw her again. When the numbers above my parents' heads changed to "one," their plane crashed that night. I waited, but they never came home. Watching the numbers above the heads of people I knew slowly count down terrified me. Then I met the man who would become my husband, Austin Vance. A bright red "∞" glowed above his head. It meant we'd see each other an infinite number of times. It felt like a silent promise. He'd stay with me until my last breath, until death did us part. For all five years of our marriage, he made me feel safe. He was a mafia boss, but no matter how busy he was with the crew, he always came home on time. Even during secret crew meetings, he'd answer my video calls and tell his men, "Livia is my wife. She's the person I trust most." Then, shortly before my birthday, Austin stayed out all night. When he finally walked in, he reeked of another woman's perfume. The sickly sweet scent turned my stomach. When he saw me frown, he stroked my hair. "It's just the wife of one of my men. A deal ended in a shootout, and her husband was killed. I stayed to help her with the funeral arrangements." The "∞" above his head still glowed bright red, so I told myself not to overthink it. Then one night, Austin didn't get home until almost midnight. The number above his head flickered and changed to "three." In that moment, I knew my marriage to Austin was about to end.

Leon Santoro's ex-wife and their daughter pushed me down the stairs. I lost the baby. Leon came to see me in the hospital. He sat beside the bed, his expression as composed as always, and said, "She's a child. She didn't know what she was doing. I'm sorry you had to go through this. I apologize for Rosalie." "That's it?" I asked. "Just an apology?" He turned to look at me. "What else do you want? Money? Stock?" "I can't exactly make Rosalie pay with her life for what happened to your child." Your child. Not our child. So he truly never cared about the baby I was carrying. He'd made a promise to his ex-wife Giselle: Rosalie would be his only child. When I told him I was pregnant, he'd barely reacted. Just a shrug and a flat "I know," like I'd told him the weather. Thinking about it now, I looked at him and asked quietly, "You're relieved, aren't you? Now that the baby's gone."

My wife, Ivy Hart, is about to give birth to the baby she conceived with Toby Clayton, her first love. Her parents hire ten bodyguards to stand guard outside the delivery room. Cora Norris, Ivy's mother, takes Ivy's hand and remarks, "Don't worry, Ivy. We'll make sure he can't get within two feet of you! Your dad is standing guard outside with the bodyguards. If he dares to stop you from having the baby, we'll report him to the police!" Ivy nods, her complexion pale, but she instinctively looks toward the door anyway. She doesn't see why I can't be more understanding of her. All she wants to do is help Toby have a child to carry on his family name. The birth proceeds without me showing up to cause a scene. She smiles gladly when she sees the crying baby in the nurse's arms. She thinks to herself that if I visit her tomorrow, she is willing to forget all about our previous fights. She is even willing to let me be the baby's father. What she doesn't know is that I've already submitted my application to the Alliance of Nations. In seven days, I will be leaving the country to become a field doctor for the Frontline Medical Corp, a humanitarian organization. I won't be coming back ever again.

The day my mafia husband, Vincent Colletti, chose his subordinate Serena Vega and her daughter Daisy over us yet again, I began teaching our daughter not to expect anything from him. One stormy night, our daughter was too scared to sleep. Vincent hesitated, then went to comfort Daisy instead. I took a storybook and a stuffed animal to Eve's room and sat on the edge of her bed. "It's okay. Don Colletti has things to take care of. Mommy's here with you." Vincent bailed on the family trip Eve had been looking forward to for two weeks, all because Serena said Daisy wanted to go to an amusement park. I held Eve's hand as we boarded the plane. "Baby, Don Colletti isn't coming, but we're still going on our trip." Every time Vincent chose them over her, it took Eve a long time to get over it. It went on like that until Vincent finally woke up to how long he'd been neglecting us. He kissed Eve's cheek, eager to make it up to her. "Sorry, sweetheart. Next week, you'll have the grandest baptism ceremony the family has ever seen." But at the Blood Oath Baptism, the Colletti family's ceremony to formally acknowledge and protect a child, Vincent got a call from Serena. She sobbed into the phone. "Daisy's getting teased at school for not having a dad. Could you come pretend to be her dad?" Vincent barely hesitated. He turned to Eve with a coaxing, apologetic look. "Eve, Daddy has something urgent to take care of. I need to leave for a little while." Eve stood there. She didn't cry or make a fuss. Before he could even finish, she quietly nodded. "It's okay, Don Colletti. I have Mommy, and that's enough."

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

I spent five years beside Kaelan, heir to the Elf King, and bore him a son, yet he never once acknowledged me in public. He said that when he became Elf King, he would give us the highest standing there was. Instead, at the Elven Assembly, he announced that another woman was his fiancée, then personally handed her our son's life-saving elixir to use as a facial treatment. Later I took my child away to the border, and he was finally willing to acknowledge us. But the child who used to run after him calling him Dad no longer needed a father.

In the fifth year of our bland marriage, I receive a message that my husband has booked a hotel room with a woman. Within the next second, seductive pictures of me show up in the work group chat. In the pictures, I seduced my husband but failed. My colleagues in the group chat mock me by saying, "She gave Mr. Reed an ultimatum and forced him to marry her. He was forced to break up with the woman he loves." "Mr. Reed put up with her for five years. It only makes sense that he could no longer resist and decide to reunite with his lover." My sick father dies out of shock, yet my husband does not show up to his funeral. That night, I inform Belinda that I wish to divorce her son. "Back then, you told me that I'm Caleb's blessing in life. You said that he'd have endless success if we were to marry. "As long as I married Caleb for five years, you promised to pay for my father's medical fees. Now that the time is up, you should let me go too."

On Halloween, my mafia husband's assistant, Chloe Ferri, knocked on my door with her son, Ron. "Trick or treat!" When I turned around to grab the candy, Ron slipped in behind me and poured honey all over the floor. Then he charged straight into me. The floor was slick, and I went down hard. My rounded belly slammed into the corner of the table. Pain ripped through my whole body. The color drained from my face, and within seconds the hem of my dress was soaked with blood. But my husband, Oliver Marino, ran to the frightened, wailing boy first. Luca Ferri, one of Oliver's longtime men, had taken a knife meant for Oliver and died. Ever since, my husband had kept Luca's widow, Chloe, at his side as his assistant. From then on, Chloe and her son came first in everything. When the hurricane made landfall, Oliver got Chloe and Ron to safety first. While I was scrambling for cover, a falling billboard slammed into my arm. On our wedding anniversary, he left me standing in the freezing wind for four hours, all because he had to go fix Chloe's broken bread maker. Once, because Ron said he hated the smell of my perfume, Oliver even dumped me in the middle of nowhere and made me walk 19 miles along a mountain road to get home. And now he was ignoring me again, rushing to that kid instead. Something inside me died for good. If he wanted so badly to take care of another man's wife and kid, then fine. I'd step aside.

Maude Ellington's fiance sends a message to his first love before their wedding. "You've always been the one I wanted to marry." With their wedding fast approaching, Maude watches him meticulously plan every detail with his first love in mind. She quietly lets it all go. Because she no longer wants the wedding. And she no longer wants him.

In the eighth year of my arranged marriage to Don Elias Voss, a single remark from my five-year-old son shattered every illusion I'd had about our marriage. At dinner, I was telling Elias about something funny that had happened that week, trying to make him laugh. He didn't respond. Our son, Silas Voss, did. "Mom, Dad doesn't love you. "My teacher says people only smile at people they like. "So no matter how funny your joke is, Dad isn't going to laugh." My smile froze. Elias glanced at him and didn't deny it. I'd heard the same thing from other people over the past eight years. But hearing it from a five-year-old, I couldn't keep lying to myself. I looked at Elias and asked him one last time, "Aren't you going to say something?" He just glanced at me and said nothing. I smiled and stopped talking too. That was the last dinner I spent trying to win his love.

After his older brother died, my husband, Theodore Ricci, brought his brother's widow, Brynn, and her daughter, Amy, into the Ricci family home. He kept them close and saw to their every need. The tenth time Theodore left our daughter, Lucia Ricci, and me for Brynn and Amy, I started teaching Lucia not to depend on him. I told her to call him Don Ricci. We were on our way to the amusement park when Brynn called to say Amy had had a nightmare, and Theodore left us. I pulled our daughter into my arms, her eyes red from crying, and did my best to comfort her. We got caught in the crossfire between rival families. Theodore ignored our daughter's cries for help and ran to protect Amy. Dragging my injured leg, I carried Lucia on my back all the way to the hospital. "It's okay," I told her. "Even if Don Ricci isn't here, Mommy will always protect you." When Theodore realized our daughter was pulling away from him, he tried to make it up to her. He went all out planning her birthday party and promised that at the celebration, he'd announce she would one day be the Ricci family's heir. But just as the party was about to start, Brynn called again. "Theodore, some kid pushed Amy down, and she's crying for you!" Theodore looked at me, torn. Before I could speak, our daughter waved at him. "It's okay, Don Ricci. Go do what you need to do. I have Mommy with me." That was when I understood. Our daughter no longer needed him either. He was a father in name only.