Amatuer Wife Stories Novels & Stories

" I was so furious I nearly rolled my eyes. He wanted to know what donating sperm felt like? What kind of idiotic excuse was that? I took a deep breath and forced down the urge to deal with his stupidity right there and then. At that moment, all I wanted was peace and quiet. "I don't care what your reason was. Deal with this immediately and get them out of my sight." Ryan nodded and was just about to speak when the two women instantly put on pitiful expressions and began their performance. "Ryan, you can't send us away." Martha burst into tears. "We're just country girls. Our family's poor, and life hasn't been easy. "To come to the city, we even sold the dozen chickens we kept back home. Th

Out of every ten stories he posted, three usually mentioned me, while the other seven were visible only to me. In the past, these petty tricks easily provoked me. Gabriella and I used to argue and fight because of them. Every time, she simply brushed it off and told me, "Nate and I are just friends with benefits. You're the one who's my husband. Don't be so petty." Gabriella was certain that I loved her and would never leave, so she hurt me without holding back. I smiled, though my heart remained heavy with a mix of complicated feelings. Suddenly, a coworker nearby gasped. "Look! Ms. Archer's boyfriend is here."

The moment I pushed the door open, I stopped. A family dinner was underway, loud and lively. I ignored the stares and stepped in, eyes burning. "Olivia, did you tell my mom that our marriage is fake?" For a second, I still hoped she would deny it, say it was all a misunderstanding. She didn't. She met my eyes without flinching. "Yes. I thought you could get along with Randall, but you went too far. This is just a consequence." Whatever hope I had left broke apart. I let out a quiet laugh.

I ask, stepping slightly to the side so I am no longer hidden behind Caleb's shoulder. The woman lets out a soft, mocking chuckle. "He hasn't told you about me? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Caleb always did like to bury things he couldn't handle." She looks back at Caleb, her expression softening into something desperate. "I'm Nancy, honey. I'm his wife."

“Family. The company. The legacy.” “And all of that matters more than the woman who nearly died saving you?” Leonard looked away. “This isn’t about right or wrong,” he said flatly. “It’s about being realistic.” Sebastian let out a short laugh. “Realistic? You call abandoning your wife in that condition… realistic?” Leonard didn’t react. He simply took another sip. “Taking care of her won’t change anything. Surgeries, therapy… all of that just prolongs something that can’t be fixed.”

Laughter erupted between them, light and healing. Just then, August peeked his head in. “Ah, so you’re the one delaying her, Chisom.” “Ahh! Bro August, abeg o! My hand no dey inside.” Chisom raised her palms in mock surrender. She rose from the bed and dusted off her dress. “I should be going. It looks like Mr. Romantic wants to take his beautiful wife out. Let me not interfere.” “Love you, babe,” Emelia called after her.

he adds, and I deduce that my wife is still a virgin, or at least that is what he thinks. “I plan to do with my husband much more that I can do with a lying, cheating, manipulative bastard. I hear your girl got impregnated by your bestie. I would not be calling anyone impotent if I were you,” Amari hits back with a voice so calm, I can’t help but chuckle. That is going to hurt some egocentric maniac. My wife has a very interesting personality. I see his jaw clench before he storms away. Amari lets out a sigh and pushes me into the elevator. We get out on the first floor, where she unlocks the third door from the elevators.

Maribel sympathizing: "That's what wives do, Sera. As partners we help each other." Me, working double shifts, coming home exhausted to an empty apartment because Adrian was "working late." Again. Always. Maribel bringing wine and tissues, her arm around my shoulders. "He's just stressed, sweetie. You need to be more understanding. More supportive." The miscarriage. Twenty-eight years old, bleeding on the bathroom floor, screaming for Adrian who was three hours late. When he finally arrived, he helped me clean up couldn't even look at me, he'd stared at his phone instead of at me.

The sheets had smelled of cologne and sweat and roses. Her body had hurt. Not enough to alarm her then, not when she was still dizzy from whatever she’d been given. But enough that when she reached out to touch her husband, she knew something was missing. She had gone through her wedding as a virgin. She’d woken up not one, and couldn't remember the exprecience. At the time, she had convinced herself that it didn’t matter. That maybe she’d simply been too tired to remember. That it was normal. That Duke was gentle. That everything was fine.

"I’m not fine at all." Another sob wracked my body. They were right. My marriage, the foundation I thought I'd built a life on, was a sham. A convenient arrangement, a business deal disguised as happily ever after. For three years, I'd clung to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, Regan's feelings would change. I'd tried to be the perfect wife, a silent shadow anticipating his every need. But I remained unseen, unheard, an invisible woman in my own marriage.