Forgotten Wife Novels & Stories

Because standing by the window, looking out at the city with her back to me, was a woman I didn't recognize. But something about her posture. Her height. The way she held herself. She turned around. And my entire world stopped. Because Jaxon Romano, the man who remembered every business deal, every competitor, every threat... didn't recognize his own wife. Fate, it seemed, had a sense of irony.

“Tell her how you loved her. How you tormented me because of her. How you never forgot about her.” But Vincent said nothing. His eyes drifted past me—toward Ethan. Toward my daughter. And then, he asked, “Did he treat you well?” I let out a quiet scoff. “Don’t pretend you care, Vincent. Haven’t you married Rosa like you always wanted? My advice to you—treat your wife better. Don’t let her end up like me back in the days.” Once, Rosa had been spoiled, unable to so much as hold a dirty cup. Now, her hands were calloused from the streets, her fingernails caked with mud and grime too revolting to name.

After Dominic Hatch loses his memories, he refuses to believe that I'm his wife. "If you really are my wife, why is it that there aren't any photos of us together?" I explain to him that he doesn't like taking photos. That's why we didn't even have a wedding portrait of us. But soon, Dominic digs out nine thick and heavy photo albums from a hidden compartment in his safe. The main characters in those albums are him and another unfamiliar woman. There are countless photos documenting their journey—from they were still children to when they had completely grown up. The pure and innocence on their faces slowly give way to the sappy love and affection they have for each other. In fact, Domi

He wiped his sweat off of his forehead. His wife laughed as if seeing him like that makes her happy. “You did not answer my question, my husband.” “They... They are doing good!” He smirked. “Both of them don't remember you.” His wife stopped laughing. She saw in front of him and held her chin. ”Aww, they must have forgotten about me.” Her voice was low and deep. “Or maybe they forgot about me because you erased their memories.” She smiled as if she said something so innocently.

Just a bit broken, like me. This is all good and well but what is her name? I can't say it, I can taste her name on the tip of my tongue I just can't remember it. The frustration is so overwhelming I just wanna scream, break something even. Now I realize, her voice sounds familiar, she was outside my office, that's who Alexander was talking to. She was so close but she doesn't remember, she promised. All those years ago, she promised. The smoke becomes more the angrier I get that she broke her promise. Her coughs become louder and louder but she doesn't remember. "You're so close, yet I can't seem to remember."

“I’m coming back anyway,” she muttered under her breath. “To take back what’s mine and avenge my mom’s death.” Amber had spent most of her life pretending that marriage arrangement did not exist. At four years old, she lost her mother. At four years old, she also lost her home. Before she died, Amber Shaw’s mother arranged her marriage to the heir of the Winchester family, the most powerful family on the Upper East Side. The memories still lived vividly inside her mind no matter how hard she tried to bury them. Her father did not even wait long after the funeral before marrying his mistress openly. The woman moved into the Shaw mansion like she had always belonged there, taking over everythi

Trion seemed cold. "You're so lucky that you had her as your wife and she's the only reason I'm letting you go otherwise you would have been dead by now."Jann whispered to Trion's ears while he sent him to sleep just by blowing a warm breathe in his ears. And the next time he opened his eyes, Trion found himself on the shore with his whole family who were asking him non-stop questions but unfortunately he didn't know what to tell them.- He had forgot everything. That vampire erased his memory to the extent that he knew nothing about who his wife was in the first place.

She relaxes and shrugs her one shoulder. "Did something happen?" I feel her voice cracking. I glance down at her. There are tears in her eyes, "My wife is not weak." I cup the side of her face. "I'm looking so happy with you in all the pictures. Why can't I remember anything? I want to forget him. All I remember is related to him, not you?" Another tear slips down and then more, "You don't know. How does it feel! I hate myself." "Have you thought about me? My wife talks about her E... He's not your Ex. He's no one to you." I say to her,

a woman in a silk dress murmured to her friend just inches from me, and the other woman nodded while sipping her drink, adding, "It's a shame about that girl he's actually married to, the one who tricked the grandmother into the match, because you can clearly see who he actually belongs with." ​I gripped the edge of my glass so hard my knuckles turned white, because for three years I had endured these whispers while staying silent. When I first married Slade, I actually believed that if I worked hard enough, if I cooked every meal, handled the laundry, and anticipated every whim of his parents and sister, they would eventually see me as one of them. I had spent the first year acting like an

I knew it belonged to her; her scent still lingered faintly on the silk despite how old it was. Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Everything she had said was the truth—she was my wife, and we had been married. But I had forgotten her. How had this happened? I couldn’t recall her from my past, no matter how hard I tried. That was the most baffling part of all. It wasn’t just me—everyone else seemed to have forgotten her too. It wasn’t normal. I had never heard of something like this happening. What had occurred that made her leave us—and erased her from all our memories? The answers could only come from her.