Divorce Stories Novels & Stories

Divorce and loss lead siblings to reconcile, and find love. NB: The following story has themes of incest/taboo sex, non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. please drop your comments, Thank you. Enjoy reading.. ************ I stared at the divorce papers, there on the kitchen counter that would no longer be mine. My soon-to-be ex-wife was out with our son, I wasn't sure what they were doing, wasn't sure of much lately.

“What did you tell them?” “I told them we are getting a divorce,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “You still want to go on with the divorce?” Alex asked, rubbing his temples. “You don’t want to stay in the marriage anymore?” I swallowed hard. “Alexander, you went out with your ex-girlfriend yesterday. You gave her an expensive necklace while I got nothing for our anniversary,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “Am I meant to hold on to this marriage when you clearly want somebody else?”

"Did you really drive down here in your pajamas or is that a new item of the clothing brand your modeling for?" "Don't be silly, Diane, it's my pajamas," Abigail said with a sigh and collapsed on her couch. "You look stressed out, babe, what's the problem?" Diane asked and joined her on the couch. "It's my husband," Abigail sighed. "I knew marriage was total bullshit after my third divorce. Listen, girl, if your husband messes up, you serve him the papers. Problem solved," Diane snapped her fingers. "But I'm in love with him, Diane, divorce is out of the option," Abigail whined.

"I don't mean that." Kent's tone was firm. "I just think that the hidden danger that you are worried about exists, no matter if I am married to her or not, or if I am divorced or not. My divorce from her doesn't change anything. It would be better to hurry up and find someone to delete all those photos from the past." Pinel frowned. “You guys marrying is a mistake. You must divorce!”

As the car started moving, my tears began flowing uncontrollably. Looking at the familiar divorce certificate in my hand, my heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. Back then, I had plunged headfirst into the whirlpool of his love, leaving myself no way out. My college roommate had warned me, “Remarrying a divorced man isn't always reliable. Don't be so foolish to believe everything." But I had strongly defended him, "My Marcus is different from others. He truly loves me."

Lisa Knox My hands trembled as I looked at the file in my hand. A divorce? How could he? I quickly held on to the nearest furniture to steady myself. My head was swimming, my vision blurring as I tried to make out the words. I had just had a miscarriage, the blood still dripping down my legs when my husband and love of my life slammed down the envelope and strode out of the house. "This is unfair," I cried, feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks. "Maybe it's because I can't give him a proper child."

Hannah muttered, "I saw Jake and Carla traveling together on Instagram." I stayed silent, suddenly realizing that after every previous divorce, I had compulsively refreshed Jake and Carla's posts, torturing myself. Except this time. Seeing my quiet, Hannah's tone softened with sympathy. "Did you two… divorce again?" In our circle, she was the only one who knew about my repeated marriages and divorces with Jake. "Yeah… divorced." Hannah sighed, offering a steady stream of comforting words.

My name is Bi Xiaonuan. I am 29 years old, have been married for three years, and live with my husband, Shen Zeyan, in a quiet high-end community in the city center. Shen Zeyan works in project management at a technology company. In the past six months, due to cooperation with major overseas clients, his workload has increased dramatically, and he has to leave early and return late almost every day. I understand the pressure of the workplace and support his career, so I take on all the housework voluntarily, keeping our home tidy and organized so he can relax when he comes home.

STORY 7. Hi, I’m Chloe. My husband cheated on me and I divorced him. The bell above the studio door chimed softly as I stepped inside. My sensible cardigan was pulled tight around my shoulders, and my heart was hammering so loudly I was sure the artist could hear it from the back room.

“Listen to me, Miranda, and listen to me good. I am not going to sign those papers. You can try whatever you want, but you won’t be able to get rid of me.” “Eric, sign those papers and make it easy for everyone,” Miranda told him. “You are so eager to get away from me. News flash, you would only if I die.” Eric tore the divorce papers to shreds and left.