Forget About My Husband Novels & Stories

“I'm sorry. Look, I know how hard this must be for you, but that's marriage in a nutshell. And I strongly believe if you try to forget him by immersing yourself in something else, it'd work.” I wanted to laugh out loud in her face. She had no idea. There was no forgetting that Fabian existed. We were talking about a man who had made me see stars and had given me one of the best orgasms I had encountered in my life through phone sex. It was impossible to just “forget him.” “Well, I'd try to.” I glanced at my phone, then downed the remainder of my cocktail. “I have about two hours before the kids come back home from school, and I really intend to spend it wisely.”

I started to say, sitting up and pulling the sheets to my chest, but he cut me off with a harsh, barking laugh. ​"Help me? You trapped me into a marriage I never wanted by playing the hero, and now you’ve drugged me in my own house just to make sure your spot in this family is secure," he sneered, reaching for his shirt and throwing it on with jerky, angry movements. "You are the most calculating woman I have ever met, and I want you out of my sight before I say something we both regret. Don't think this night changes anything, it only makes me despise you more."

Was it the guilt that is refusing me to be happy? My husband had taken a long break from work to the extend that I was worried that it will affect the company. I haven't been to my work as well. I don't know how is it going on? I haven't enquired about it. I Saw Charlie, André, Renee and Irene at the funeral. Irene immediately went to her best friend. André, Charlie and Renee stayed with me. I distinctly remember them asking was I OK? I don't know what I answered them. Maybe I haven't answered them who knows. I hardly remember things I did that day and everyday that followed. I haven't told my husband about the kid thing either. I wasn't going to because I can't afford to lose him too. He ch

All things I had once mentioned in passing, all things he had never given me when I still wanted them. I accepted none of them, and I did not change my schedule for him. Work continued. Dinners continued. Life continued. Nine years of marriage had taught me one thing: never rearrange your life around a man’s emotions. At first, I thought the old Don had ordered him to stay and beg for my forgiveness, so I called New York myself. I told the old Don that I had a fiancé now, and a new life. I asked him not to make Mark waste more time in London.

The nurse blinked. “I’m sorry?” “I said no.” This time my voice was firmer. “I don’t want to see him.” She hesitated, clearly caught off guard. “But he insists he’s your husband.” A bitter smile tugged at my lips. “Husband?” I almost laughed. “What kind of husband ignores his wife while she’s screaming in pain?” The nurse fell silent. “What kind of husband tells his wife there’s no money for her medication…” “…then buys another woman a mansion?”

My husband. I didn’t remember him. I didn’t remember anything

When they arrived, I greeted them with a forced smile, trying to hide my pain. As we sat in the garden, sipping tea and nibbling on pastries, I couldn't hold back my tears any longer. "I don't know what to do," I said, my voice breaking. "My husband has forgotten about me and his own children. He's completely consumed with Irene and her new baby." My friends listened sympathetically, their eyes filled with concern. "I'm so sorry," Mila said softly, reaching out to take my hand. "That must be incredibly difficult."

I almost felt sorry for her teeth. Who could have done all this? I wondered, still scanning the room. Just then, a figure walked through the entrance. Blue top. Blue joggers. The colors stood out, bright and somehow welcoming. I lifted my head higher. Quinn. My husband. Truth settled over me like cold water. I had forgotten him. Completely. I had forgotten he existed, forgotten I was married at all. The past five weeks with Zachary had swept me away so thoroughly that the title of “married woman” had slipped from my mind like it belonged to someone else.

Damian’s gaze darkened, a storm brewing in his gray eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but I held up a hand, refusing to let him speak. "I caught my husband cheating on me less than twenty-four hours ago," I said, my voice trembling as the weight of the past day crashed over me. "The man I was married to for three years was planning to divorce me months ago, and I completely had no idea. I haven't even begun to process that betrayal, and you're asking me to throw myself into another relationship?"

to me. How ridiculous... Here was my husband, who for an entire month failed to come and visit me even though I was in a coma and unable to leave the bed. And the reason he did present was because of the divorce? Wouldn’t he at least wait for me to get out of the hospital before he mentioned that fucking divorce AGAIN? I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. After hearing his words, I held his gaze and firmly responded, “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re referring to. I lost my memories.”