Forgotten Wife Novels & Stories

“I thought he told you.” “He didn’t.” My chest tightened painfully. “He didn’t bother telling me he had a girlfriend. He didn’t bother telling me he had a twin. Why would he bother telling me anything when our marriage isn’t even real to him?” The bitterness in my tone made him look up sharply. “You’re his wife.” The words were soft. Firm. But heavy with something I couldn't place. A laugh escaped me wild, humorless, broken. “No,” I whispered. “I’m the secret he chooses to forget until I’m convenient.”

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."

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,

I should’ve expected it, but it still stunned me. He never even mentioned custody, never once threatened to take Tessa from me. He said I didn’t need to work, that I could come back and live with him again. Like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t once torn my heart apart by choosing someone else. His betrayal still sat deep in me, like a shard of glass I couldn’t remove. Forgiveness wasn’t the issue anymore, I had already done that, silently, for my own peace. But forgetting? How do you forget the woman who had had sex with your husband on your matrimonial bed, who had walked around your house wearing your husband’s shirt, her smile wide and wicked?