Being A Trophy Husband Is Exhausting Novels & Stories

he reassured me, his words a comforting embrace. Returning home after our meal, the warmth of the staff's gratitude for our thoughtful gesture brought a sense of fulfilment, if only momentarily, to my troubled heart. That evening, while engrossed in a movie, I couldn't shake the feeling that it mirrored my own life. The protagonist, a trophy wife like myself, contributed nothing, and as the plot unfolded, her husband began to view her as a liability. Their eventual separation led to hardships, leaving me pondering the possibility of a similar fate.

“You still want to do this fake marriage thing? Because I’m desperate enough to go through with it, but I’m not going to be some quiet little trophy wife who smiles and keeps her mouth shut. I already hate rich men. Especially the ones who think they can buy people.” Ivan leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “Good. I don’t want a quiet trophy wife. I need someone who can convince the world we’re madly in love. Someone with fire.” His eyes darkened. “And you’ve got plenty of that.” My heart was racing so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"What’s good, man?" "All good," he says, draining a glass of liquor. "You okay? You’re not looking so good. It’s your baby gender reveal today. How do you feel?" "Exhausted." His eyes look lazy as he sinks into the sofa. "Why is that?" "My wife is exhausting," he says. "Yeah, you should’ve stayed single like me... Bachelor’s club. What happened? Couldn’t renew your dues no more?" "Don’t. All marriages have their issues, okay?" "Yeah, but it seems yours is taking a toll on you." I look at him properly. His eyes are too dark and empty. His hair is styled like the average husband now. He doesn’t exactly look like the Patrick I know.

I stared, but he cut me off. “Enough of this,” he growled. “You know, if I were you, I would remember your place, Cassandra.” His voice was stern, threatening. “YOU were the one who insisted on marrying ME. You saw dollar signs right from the start. My mother was right about you. She’s always been right. You’re a trophy wife. Nothing more. You want my money? Go ahead! Spend my money. Go to Greece, or France, or Bora Bora. Clear your head. Just stop being so dramatic.” I trembled with rage. Trophy wife? The sheer audacity! I’d married Jordyn out of love, not for his money. How dare he? I was just about to tell him this when a hand reached over and took my phone.

“Number two, you can do whatever you want with your life, Fae. As my wife, you can decide what’s best for your career, use what we both have for your projects, spend time with your friends, enjoy your time with me… explore married life with me…” Ahh, so he was just repeating what we talked about when he was convincing me to marry him. “Jigo… if your lawyer reads this, he’ll laugh at me…” I complained. “He might think I came up with all this nonsense myself.” He laughed, too. “But it’s true. Besides, it’s for our eyes only. We’ll sign it, frame it, and hang it on our bedroom wall.” “Do I have a duty to be a trophy wife?” I asked, genuinely curious.

She had to rush back to the office to finish up a dress for a client's wedding next week. I wanted to tag along and go watch her work, but she wouldn't have it. She instead reminded me of the no strings rule. Like I hadn’t heard it the first dozen times. Like she didn’t already have every string in my chest wrapped around her fingers. “He said something that struck me, though.” Sharon pauses and pours another glass before she continues. “He said his wife is glowing..like..happier and sex-sated glow. He also said he asked to meet her partner.”

I threw him a twisted little smile and saw his eyes narrow before he rolled his eyes in irritation and turned toward the guests. My smile slipped. “Let's go. Keep your chin up, and plaster that fake smile on your face. Remember, the entire world is watching, and they must never see the truth. Act like the perfect trophy wife, like you always have.” He said while adjusting his cufflinks, my eyes pricked. And it was true. I was the pure definition of a wretched trophy wife. The public saw us as a power couple, an image of perfection worthy of admiration. From our spotless appearances at parties, to our smiles for the cameras, we played our part so convincingly that no one would suspect our mar

"Rome is my boyfriend, Solana. And you know what? He's willing to do anything just so he can make me happy. What about your husband, Solana? Does he even have money to buy your whims? I don't think so." I cocked an eyebrow. "My husband may not be rich, but he never fails to make me happy, Agatha. He would pamper me. He would cook for me and insist on making me smile whenever I'm sad and you know what's the best part of marrying him? He can make me feel that I am the only woman in his life and I don't need to convince him on something because he will give everything that can make me happy," "…And I don't need my husband to provide for my whims. I can work for it, Agatha. I am not impotent," I

"At least, I'm supposed to be. But it takes a lot longer than an hour to get into trophy shape, you know-" "No," he denies. "No, I don't. I don't know what you mean by all of this nonsense-" "It's not nonsense," she insists with a scoff. "It's practically common knowledge, if not common sense." "What in God's name are you talking about?" "Trophy wife, Blaze," Liviana recalls. "It's not a foreign concept." "The hell it's not," Blaze argues. "Is that what you really think this is? That you're some sort of prized possession?"

Why? """"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" Ren Liu looked stunned. Despite being married for five years, the couple still lived in the same house, but they each had a bedroom and a study of their own. There are only a few occasions when they become intimate. Love-making is as rare as a blue moon.