Arranged Marriage Stories Novels & Stories

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” “Me either,” Sarah admits. “Though it’s not like it’s never done. I’ve known plenty of people who have been part of arranged marriages who love each other completely. Often times it turns out that whoever they’re arranged to is their mate. It’s fate’s way of bringing them together.” “Do you think that’s the case here?” I ask, still uncertain about this. “I don’t know,” Sarah admits. “Normally I would flat out say no. But there is the prophecy to think about.

“You sure do know how to deceive people so well. So you left your poor wretched old husband and hooked on this one because he is rich?” “You said you had a proof, where's it?” I asked, stepping in for Emelda. Immediately the strange unfamiliar lady brought out her phone and held to my face a picture of Emelda and my late grandfather, Jonathan. I scoffed. “You idiot, that man there is my grandfather and the wedding was an arranged marriage for my wife Emelda and I.” “Your what?” The unfamiliar lady stammered, her eyes widened in shock as she staggered, almost losing her balance. “It…it… can't be.”

My mom was still speaking when I stormed out of the kitchen in tears. "Let her be." I heard my dad tell my mom. I ran back to my room and filled my pillow with tears. Yes, I have always known that my parents believed in arranged marriages. Theirs was an arranged marriage and though it had worked for them, I was certain that I didn't want that life for myself. Hell, maybe if Jeff hadn't broken my heart, I wouldn't be in this mess. I was still crying when my mom climbed up my bed and snuggled close to me. "I am so sorry dear."

Most of my cousins were either married or engaged at my age. I was an exception only because my parents were dead, so there was no one who could arrange my marriage other than Damon. Who had other important things to work on at that time, rather than looking for a guy to marry me, which gave me a little extra time than other women. But it came to an end when a war broke out between Cosa Nostra and the American mafia which made Cosa Nostra seek out Bratava for help and which eventually led to me marrying Alex, which scared me.

I expected this already anyways. "Alright, Grandpa," I answered, bracing myself for the inevitable introduction to a woman chosen by my family, not by my heart. People say arranged marriages are like a plan for a steady life. No messy emotions, just a logical decision based on tradition and family advice. It might not have the intense passion we associate with love, but is that a fair exchange for a stable and predictable life? If I follow my grandfather's choice, my life would be straightforward. No heartbreaks, no one-sided love, just following tradition without the need for big romantic gestures or dramatic love stories – just quietly accepting the path set for me.

The friendly, bookish man who’d been so curious about the outside world had been intended as my husband? “That’s…” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “I know it’s a lot to process. But you have to understand, arranged marriages aren’t about romance in our world. They’re about creating the next generation of gifted children, ensuring the survival of our abilities.” I thought about Karl’s genuine smile, his curiosity about my life. Had he known? When we’d talked in the hallway, had he been thinking about what might have been? “Does he know?” I asked.

It wasn't part of the script. "You heard right. It was supposed to be an arranged marriage and I went to their house to pick someone to marry. Since my wife and I have once known each other, I would of course choose her. It was love at first sight after all. Who wouldn't love someone as adorable as her?" He looked at her lovingly.

Why did you run away from a future that was so solid it could have been etched into your tombstone? Him. My father arranged my marriage before I was conceived. I'm pretty sure the moment they found out I was going to be a girl he already had potential suitors clamoring at the door. The problem wasn’t the arranged marriage, even though it was straight out of the 1800’s, barbaric andchauvinistic as fuck. No, the problem was the man they arranged for me to marry. A ‘man’ who had no issue “putting women in line”. He was fifteen years older than me and belonged to one of the most prestigious families in Boston, he also had a terrible temper and a drinking problem.

I hadn’t realized I was shaking until he reached for my hands, gently squeezing them. “Look, I don’t know what picture you’re talking about. But whatever you saw, it’s not what it looked like—” “I saw it in the newspaper. Page six. I know exactly what I saw.” My voice cracked as I pulled my hands away. “You know, Nathaniel, when you told me you had a girlfriend, I never held it against you.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed Velma approaching, her expression curious, probably wondering what the fuss was about. “I tried so hard to be the understanding wife. Because after all, this is an arranged marriage, right? Temporary. No feelings involved. Nothing of that sort.”

The tie clip inside was still delicate, and the card read: Safety, health, and mutual trust are the best marriage. After reading it, Shen Zeyan gently hugged me. Instead of an expensive gift, he took out a family agreement we wrote together: Communicate frankly immediately when encountering any problem, without hiding or bearing it alone; Trust each other firmly and not be influenced by external rumors or malicious videos;