American Housewife の小説・ストーリー

That way, she would get a hold of herself. Karl didn't press Amelia further, realizing Amelia didn't really want to talk about it. He simply reminded her, "You have to tell me if there's anything. Unless you no longer want to work and want to go back to being a housewife!" "No, I refuse to! I don't want to!" Amelia quickly replied. She didn't want to be a housewife, she didn't want to constantly worry about being kicked out and not having her own money. As Amelia thought this, she had no idea that the lives of other wealthy housewives were vastly different from hers.

“It’s hard to make the food I can eat tasty, but she always did. I don’t know what witchcraft she had to practice for it.” He poked at the food, and I could swear that I could see his eyes start to water. “She was a really good housewife too. The house was always clean when she was there, positively spotless. Everywhere I looked it felt like a model apartment, a house just ready for a photoshoot. I swear if we weren’t keeping the marriage a secret, I won’t have hesitated to call some lifestyle magazine to do a piece on the place because that’s how neat and stylish it was.”

Constant work. And the one who'd done it all without a word was gone. Now her life was unraveling. "Asher, the electricity got cut. Can you take care of it?" "Asher, you haven't been home in a while. Come over for dinner." "Asher, how do you use the washer? I need to do laundry." ... Even Asher got annoyed. At first, he answered. A few times. Then he stopped picking up altogether. Janet finally saw it—she couldn't even handle the basics on her own.

“First, thank you all for your concern. “Regarding this Ms. Jones, I do know her, but she is not my ex-girlfriend. “In fact, during the five years I lost my memory, she consistently presented herself to me as my wife. “When my memory returned, I discovered our marriage certificate was forged, and that she already had a lawful husband.” The room erupted in shock at these words. “There’s also the matter of her injury.” My gaze swept across the room. My voice tinged with coldness. “The reason is simple. When her ‘lawful husband’ slandered me while she physically assaulted me, my family arrived in time.”

On weekends, I took on freelance work. For three years, I survived on no more than four hours of sleep a night. Once, when I had a terrible fever, I chose not to go to the hospital to save money. Instead, I buried myself under heavy blankets, trying to sweat it out until I nearly ended up with pneumonia. Charlene held me, crying so hard she could barely breathe. She swore that she would give me a real home one day and never let me suffer again. And she did it. She rose from the ashes and became a powerhouse in the business world. She also gave me a home, one that was registered under someone else's name.

The chicken hopped around for a moment before dropping a steaming pile of poop onto my custom-made designer couch. Then it took off racing around the living room, scattering feathers and dust everywhere. That was the last straw. I pointed at the two women, my voice shaking with rage. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Get out!" Martha Wilson showed no sign of remorse. Instead, she planted her hands on her hips, spat on the floor in my direction, and sneered. "Shut your mouth, you bitch. From now on, we're Ryan's first and second wives. And you think you can throw us out?"

All added together, it totaled up to fifty-three dollars. I did not manage to contact Elena. I hurriedly handled Mom’s funerary affairs and rushed over to my job cleaning windows. My wage of three hundred dollars was enough to last our family of three a good few meals. That was why my heart shattered when I saw Elena in this opulently appointed five-star hotel. Was this woman, who spent money like water, the same woman as my wife Elena? The woman who had been dressed in mended clothes and ate only the simplest fare with me just the day before?