After Seven Years Of Marriage Novels & Stories

Hope sets you up for the kind of disappointment that left you worse off than before. Seven months. That’s how long we’d been married. And in those months, we had lived in the same house but not really together. I knew his habits, his schedule, his moods. But I didn’t know him. Not really. And I doubted he knew me, either.

“We have to talk.” Serena went with him, not necessarily willingly, but because her legs wouldn’t work enough to dig her heels in. Kade kicked her out. Ended a seven-year marriage. Over her. Serena couldn’t believe it, even now. She felt like she was walking through a dream. Or a nightmare, rather. “Seven years,” he hissed, whirling on her once they were out of earshot of the car. “Seven years, Serena. We gave you everything you needed. Everything to ensure you remained his Luna.”

And all the while, in her mind, she played games with her. After seven years of marriage, I learned to love the cold. To love the heat that comes after. To love my husband's touch, whatever bit of it he'll give me. I wasn't used to sincerity, kindness, and I didn't know if I could trust it. I had become used to waiting and longing and wishing for love. Not showing up every day in every way.

He'd probably forgotten what today was. The fiery passion we shared at the beginning was reduced to cold distance. After being his girlfriend for seven years, I still hadn't heard him say he wanted to marry me. I wasn't stupid or blind to what was happening. When a man dragged things out for seven years, there must be something deeper. Lorenzo paused for a moment, then spoke with a hint of impatience. "I've told you. When the company goes public, I'll marry you. Don't keep bringing this up."

And he had shut her out every time. But what was wrong with wanting peace and quiet after a long day at work? Was it really such a crime not to want to hear her constant complaints? Nora could see it in his face—he still didn’t get it. Her laugh was bitter, her gaze like ice. “Travis, I was married to you for seven years. Seven years. Do you have any idea what kind of life I lived in that time? You never even wanted to know. But just because you didn’t care doesn’t mean I can forget it.

His thoughts scrambled for a proper response, but all he could manage was, “We’ve talked about it. Vanessa’s still under a major contract. Maybe next year—” “Next year?” Kate’s voice rose. “That’s exactly what you said last year. Do you realize how long it’s been? You’ve been married for nearly seven years, Daven. That’s not a short time. And I haven’t heard a single piece of happy news.” Felicia and Kalina exchanged a brief glance but stayed quiet. Still, their expressions said enough—they clearly agreed with their mother. “Mom, I—”

Aurelia’s POV Friday will mark seven years of my marriage to Grant Ashford. Seven years of holding a home together with my bare hands. Seven years of reminding myself that love was supposed to feel worth it. I wanted that day to be beautiful, perfect for him and for Oliver, our five-year-old son. I folded the last shirt, smoothing out the faintest crease before hanging it neatly in the closet. My feet ached, but there was no pause, no room for rest. I moved straight to the kitchen, tying my apron tighter.

My cheek where the knife hit me is still sore, but the dull ache is nothing compared to the one I’m feeling inside me, like I’m being ripped into two from within. Because I can’t stop thinking about us and how our marriage is only going to fray even worse now that his ex girlfriend is here, living under the same roof with us. Seven years. That was the contract marriage agreement. I was to give him an heir, and he was to provide more financial stability for my own family. It had also been agreed that if we didn’t fall in love after seven years — which we’ve already clocked — we’d go our separate ways. Maybe tonight is the breaking point.

"two months of marriage, Sarah. Almost a year of dating, and you never mentioned this to me?" Sarah flinched. She didn't look up. Her fingers were twisting a damp tissue into a shredded mess. "I had been married for ten years before I met you. Ten years of doctors, of tests, of being told my body was a failure. I was desperate. When my first husband and I saw him... he was two. He had those eyes. We wanted him."

"I won’t sign it, and I won’t accept it. Haven’t you loved me for seven years? How can you just let it end like this?" "Seven years." I repeated after her, "You’re right, seven years. I proposed marriage seven times, and you’ve made excuses all seven times to brush me off. Do you have any idea how I felt these past seven years?" She looked at me. "I felt like I was waiting for a door that would never open for me. I kept knocking and waiting like a fool, thinking that the day would come when you would open it, but it never happened. I waited and waited only for you to come to me and ask me to father someone else’s child."