A Married Man 44 Novels & Stories

"Unbelievable. If I hadn't seen this with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe a woman like this actually existed. She stuck it out through the hard years, and now that the money's rolling in, she wants a divorce?" "She obviously has another man. She probably couldn't keep it in her pants after the pregnancy, and her husband wasn't enough anymore." "You know what, that actually makes sense. I feel sorry for the guy. Imagine when that kid grows up and finds out what kind of mother he has. It'll be humiliating." I was drowning in the noise when my parents arrived with Adam. He looked nothing like he had the day before. The anger was gone, replaced by something raw and urgent. He pushed through the

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her child growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So, I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day.

His tall frame cast a long shadow over me. "I, Chris Anderson, am stepping up to the plate. I'll take Owen's spot and marry you." I stared up at him. After a long beat, all I could manage was a single word. "Sure." And so, under the stunned and confused stares of the crowd, I married Chris. The second the marriage certificate landed in my hands, it hit me that my ten years with Owen had been nothing but a joke. I had poured every last drop of love I had into him, only to be abandoned time and time again whenever Monica called.

His flattery sent discomfort crawling across my skin, but I held my composure and replied politely, “Thank you.” The man smirked at my polite response, clearly mistaking it for interest rather than basic courtesy. He stepped closer—too close—until the cold metal railing touched the back of my waist. “You know…” he drawled, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret I wanted, “a woman like you shouldn’t be left alone at a party like this. Especially with a husband who seems too occupied to give you attention.” I stiffened. He smelled of expensive whiskey, and his fingers brushed the side of my arm as if he had the right.

If he hadn't loaned a huge amount of money and used my mom's company as collateral, this would never happen to me. Today I'm marrying a man twice my age and he sent a representative instead of attending this damn wedding himself. Speaking of my supposed husband's representative, I looked at the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. A handsome man who was smiling sweetly like an idiot was standing there. I'd say he's a good actor for smiling genuinely like that. My eyes raked his whole– from his hair down to his face and body. He has brown curly hair. He has sharp jaws, thick eyebrows, a blue pair of eyes, a pointed nose, reddish thin lips, and dimples on his left cheek.

Instead of feeling relieved, he was now annoyed. "You don't believe me, do you? My whole life, I've never even thought about having more than one wife. And now, suddenly, my wife is asking me to marry another woman." Laughter was still etched on Alvin's handsome face. "You should be happy then. You can have two wives without having to sneak around. Ethan grimaced. His friend was responding too casually. "The problem is, I'm not the type of guy who likes to share love. One is more than enough, and now you want me to have two? It would just be troublesome."

The HVAC hummed through the vents like a controlled heartbeat. The coffee on my desk had gone cold. I hadn’t touched it. Morning wasn’t for haze. It was for precision. “You look like hell,” Tom said, sprawled in the visitor’s chair like it was his living room. Blazer tossed over the arm. Shirt open at the collar. Hair styled in deliberate chaos designed to look like he hadn’t tried. He always tried. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” I asked. Tom smirked. “Not when you’re about to marry a stripper for stock options. This is better than N*****x.”

But instead of commenting, he simply says, "Congratulations, Mar. Even if you did just marry an asshole-better an asshole I know than one I don't." The Corpse Bride, Mar, lets out a light laugh, waving him off. And that's when I really see him. Beneath the elaborate makeup and dramatic costume is a genuinely beautiful man. Ginger hair, striking green eyes, freckles scattered across his skin like he tried to cover them but didn't quite succeed. He's about my height, a full head shorter than Liam and his husband, but unlike me-who finds Liam's height endlessly annoying-Mar seems to love looking up at his new husband.

"Apologize! Apologize to Henry for everything you did!" Beside her, Hendrick had already propped up his phone, filming my pitiful state with a gleeful smirk. I clamped one hand over the wound, spat out a mouthful of bloody froth, and raised my head to stare straight at Winona. I enunciated each word loud and clear. "Do you remember what my father said when we got married, Winona?" She blinked, momentarily thrown. She had clearly forgotten. Of course. To the Winona standing before me, nothing mattered except Hendrick. Everything else, including me, was irrelevant.

“I am not granting you the divorce you so desperately speak of. If you need space to think, you can do so in my house or in your own home. I can even allow you to move out temporarily if you need to clear your head. But after that I expect you to come back to your senses and start acting like you are married to me.” My breath caught in my throat, and I stared at him, slowly shaking my head. “Who the hell are you?” Somehow, I was finding it difficult to believe this was the same soft husband I got married to. “A man in love who would do anything to keep his marriage.” He said with so much authority and conviction. And without even waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel, leaving me stari