8 Years In An Estranged Marriage Novel Novels & Stories

For eighteen years, my wife, Elizabeth Connerty, never once reached out to her first love, Lucas Ryder. She committed herself fully to me and cooked warm meals for me. She attended every parent-teacher conference for our daughter. She carefully planned our family trips year after year. That was how we lived—quietly, steadily, and happily—for eighteen years. But after our daughter celebrated her eighteenth birthday, I turned to Elizabeth and said, "Let's get a divorce." She stood in the doorway of our daughter's bedroom, staring at me in stunned silence. I added calmly, "When our daughter was born, you promised me that once she turned eighteen, we would divorce."

I paused, answering frankly, "Just thinking about what to do in the future." "Cleaning and cooking. What else can you do?" he scoffed. His casual jab didn't rattle me. I was used to it. For eight years, I had dropped everything for him. My life had been centered around him. I had forgotten the dreamer I once was. Eight years back, my mom was dying. When I desperately needed money, Gideon showed up with a contract, offering five million dollars for me to marry him and help him deal with the opponents in his family.

I stumbled out of the hospital in a daze. The doctor had been smiling just moments ago, congratulating me on how healthy the baby was. Then, she casually asked, "When are you planning to register your marriage with the father?" I froze. I told her we had been married for five years. The doctor frowned and checked the system again. Finally, she turned the screen toward me. [Marriage Registration: None.] Five years ago, Enrico Salvatore slipped a ring onto my finger himself and told me all the paperwork had been taken care of. He said his position in the mafia made it inconvenient to go public.

David. He looked strong and confident even in the old picture. Ester felt a strange flutter in her chest. She kept looking. There were more photos of them on a trip, laughing at dinner. Then papers showing the marriage lasted only eleven months. No kids. Just a quick end. “Why did you never talk about him, Mom?” Ester whispered to herself.

His brows drew together as his fingers flipped a page back and forth, pausing. “What is it?” I asked, moving closer and taking a seat beside him. He placed the dusty book in my hands, pointing at a specific page. “This has got to mean something,” he murmured as I read through the last words my mom had written in her diary. I read it out loud: “I live with a stranger. This wasn’t Vinichi, this wasn’t the man I married. The man I married would have known my middle name, which I told only him. But I asked today, and he snapped because he didn’t know. I need to understand what’s happening to my marriage.”

"I want to be alone!" His expression shifted, but he still left the room without saying another word. After Liam left, the office fell silent once again. She walked toward the window and glanced down at the bustling traffic on the street below. This city was huge. In fact, it was so big that we didn't run into each other for eight years. Queenie used to think that our marriage was a mistake. So, at that time, leaving that marriage after she had been reborn seemed like a wise choice.

"Christine, don't leave me. I know I was wrong. I realized it too late. Let me love you. Give me a chance to make things right." But I stayed still, unmoved. "It's too late. I'm tired." His brows furrowed as he stepped closer. "Eight years ago, you crawled into my bed, got pregnant, and married me. And now you want to walk away? Is this some kind of push-and-pull game?" I stared at him in disbelief. I'd thought he finally understood. But the way he saw me… was still just as selfish as ever.

They spontaneously got ready too, and once we were ready, we hurriedly checked out of the hotel and returned to Riverford. Throughout the journey, I couldn’t think clearly. My marriage to Chris had lasted thirteen years. What made him want to divorce me? I had done nothing wrong to him, and we rarely argued. Our sex life was also good. Was there another woman in Chris’s life that I didn’t know about?

Emma stood frozen in the middle of her living room. Her phone slowly slipped from her trembling fingers and landed on the couch. The call had ended. But the stranger's words continued to echo inside her head. Daniel Hart isn't your husband. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. For seven years, she had lived with Daniel. Shared a home with him. Shared holidays, birthdays, arguments, laughter, and dreams. She had married him. Hadn't she? Emma suddenly wasn't sure anymore. Her breathing became uneven.

​DAMON'S POV: ​ It has been eight long years since I walked away from the grand estate with my head low and my chest feeling like it had been sliced open. Eight years since I left behind every single thing I had ever known, loved, or trusted. Eight years since Isabelle Valancourt looked me dead in the eye and told me I was a nobody, that I was just a poor groundskeeper's son, and that she wanted me out of her life forever.