Divorce Romance Novels Novels & Stories

No wonder Corbin simply couldn't forget about her. "You're not breaking up anything. Everything here should've belonged to you anyway." Corbin snatched the papers from me and threw them onto the table. "Are you done, Skylar? Ingrid has always been so busy at work, and it's not often she gets to come back to Novington like now! Why must you make things so awkward for her as soon as you meet?" I was calm as I answered, "I'm not. I just want to divorce you, as you wished. That way, you both can get together."

Two months ago, I had asked for a divorce, I couldn't take it anymore, the pain he had caused me messed with my mental health, I was gradually losing it. But to Killian, it was one big joke, he laughed so hard that day, he told me to my face that he'd never grant me divorce. That I'm more than welcome to try. He has every means to keep me in this marriage and I know it. So, I tried my best not to let his actions and words hurt me, but is it even possible when I still loved him? I — I know that sounds pathetic…crazy even, but I've tried to hate him, I have, but we can't immediately unlove what or whom we love dearly.

Avelyn folded her arms loosely not defensive, but bracing. “Did you discuss divorcing me?” “No.” “Did she suggest it?” A pause. Cassian inhaled slowly. “She implied alignment would be easier without personal complications.” Avelyn’s lips parted slightly. “And you?” “I rejected it.” Her eyes searched his face. “But you still divorced me two weeks later.” The sentence wasn’t loud. But it carried weight. “I divorced you,” Cassian said carefully, “because I thought I was protecting you.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “From what?”

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It landed between the candles with a flat, deliberate sound. "Sign it." Mia looked at the envelope. Then at him. "What is this?" "Divorce papers." His voice was flat. Exhausted—the way a man sounds when he's already made his decision three days ago and is only here to close the door. "Effective immediately." The word divorce moved through her like cold water. Her brain received it. Her body had already gone completely still—the way it does when danger is too close to run from. "I don't understand," she said. Quietly. Because she didn't.

⚠️🔞 TRIGGER WARNINGS (DARK ROMANCE): ⚠️🔞 This is a DARK ROMANCE book with heavy, raw, and non-traditional themes. It contains highly sensitive content that some readers may find uncomfortable, triggering, or disturbing. This includes, but is not limited to: Domestic abuse and physical violence Forced marriage and extreme possessiveness Non-consensual/forced sexual situations and breeding themes Explicit sexual content (18+) Very strong language and toxic dynamics

I'm sorry…" Davide asked me whether he should call the cops. I waved him off and walked out to the front. Drinking in the sight of the disheveled mess of a man before me, I remained silent for a long while. "Oliver, we're already divorced. The one who lied to you is your wife, not me. Why did you run to my place to make such a hysterical scene?" "Please… Please just forgive me this once. Give me one more chance, alright? The three of us can be a happy family together.

The leather swallowed me like a heated confession. I exhaled. “This is nice.” He closed the door. And pulled into traffic. The inside of the car smelled like sandalwood and power. “What’s your name?” I asked. “Adrian.” He answered. “Just Adrian?” He ignored me. He drove like everything in his life happened on schedule. Unlike mine, which currently resembled a controlled demolition. “I got divorced tonight,” I announced. “I Know.” He said without looking at me. “He left me for his pregnant mistress. He brought her to our anniversary dinner.”

I’m certain. “Our marriage certificate says otherwise.” I smirked at her reddening face. This version of her had spunk, had fire. I pushed away from the table and stood before her, I lowered my eyes to make my point hard to miss, “Like it or not, you’re still stuck with me.” I planted a ghost of a kiss on her forehead, lasting barely a second before she rushed away like I had stung her. “The di-” She cleared her throat, “The divorce papers say otherwise.” She fired back but her voice was too shaky for me to take her seriously.

“Diane, I threw a birthday party for you twice. You didn’t show up.” “Because I was busy!” “Exactly! You’re always fucking busy.” The veins in my neck bulged. “Do you even remember you’re married? Because it seems like I’m the only one putting some effort into making this work. I love you, Diane. I love you so fucking much, but sometimes you make it hard to.” I took a step forward, my voice cracking. “We sleep in different rooms, baby. Have you ever wondered how that made me feel?” “How did it make you feel?” She repeated.