From Divorce 'to His Embrace Novels & Stories

Emmette asked, sucking in a deep breath. "Let's get a divorce."

"I'll choose you in every lifetime I get. In this one, and whatever comes after. If there's an afterlife, I'll find you there. And if there isn't, then I'll have loved you so completely here that it won't matter." My chest felt heavy, but my voice never broke. "I'll be your shield. I'll love you when it's easy, and more importantly, when it's not. Even death won't take me from you. Not really. I'll love you beyond this life, Vanessa Holland. I swear it." The room was silent. The priest cleared his throat, blinking a little too much. "By the power vested in me—" I barely waited. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

When she heard about the divorce, she actually looked forward to it so much? "Emma, we won't divorce. Even if I don't want to sleep with you, we won't divorce either. You better give up this idea as soon as possible." His large palm suddenly stretched out. He grabbed her slender neck and his extremely cold voice resounded in her ears. Emma's entire body turned stiff and cold. Her small hand that was holding the cup tightened. The smooth glass cup almost slipped out of her palm. "If you don't want to leave, then don't. Can you not be so violent?" She coughed twice and quickly replied.

I paused, fixing my gaze on him. “How can you flip divorce papers at me as though it's some sort of contract letter? This can't be true, Alex.” I yelled, holding tightly to his collar. He flung my hands as I stumbled backward, losing my balance. “That is something you can never stop doing. Gripping my clothes as if I were a child. Emily, my heart doesn't belong here. It doesn't belong to you. Sign the divorce papers, please.” He said coldly. “That’s something I can never stop doing? Alex, have I ever held onto your collar like this?” I asked, my voice barely audible. My heart beat rapidly as I swallowed the lumps in my throat.

I confessed, my gaze fixed on my trembling hands. "I realize now that I've been pushing you away and burdening you with the weight of my divorce. It's been consuming me more than I anticipated," I admitted, my voice filled with remorse. Elijah gently reached out, intertwining his fingers with mine, offering a comforting squeeze. "I want you to know that I understand, and I'll be here for you, no matter what. I'll patiently wait for the divorce to be finalized, and I won't pressure you about our marriage anymore. My love for you is unwavering, and I'm here to support you."

I was dreaming, wasn't I? "No. You are not dreaming," he assured. That broke my trance as I gulped. "Wh-What are you doing here?" "Can I not come see my wife?" I opened my mouth to remind him of the divorce when with one long stride he came closer and placed one elegant finger against my lips making me swallow back the remark, his eyes holding mine in a passionate gaze. "No. Get that through your stubborn head I'm not divorcing you. Never. I'm here to get you back, to make you mine once again, and this time forever till my last breath you will be only mine, Ember King," he pronounced each word slowly and precisely.

I was Damian Valenti’s legal wife. But to the rest of New York, Sofia Bellini was the woman he planned to marry—and I was the pregnant mistress who refused to let him go. Damian said it was only for show. Sofia’s husband had died saving his life, and he had promised to protect her. She needed the wedding and the title of Donna. I already had what mattered: his love, his fortune, and our real marriage. At least, that was what Damian believed. He was so certain I would understand that he spent our seventh anniversary helping Sofia choose her wedding dress. He never noticed that I was in the fitting room beside them, wearing the dress he had once promised to see me in. As Sofia admired herself

Despite everything, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. "I want to help her." He pulled an envelope from his desk drawer. "I want to take care of her. Let her spend her last months in peace." "We can help," I said carefully. "Set up a fund, or help with medical bills—" "I want to marry her." The words didn't make sense. Couldn't make sense. "I want to give her the wedding she never had. Make her my wife before she dies." He held out the envelope. Through the paper, I could see the bold text: Petition for Divorce.

He really believed that his explanation would somehow make everything okay, that reducing Clara to a childhood friend would erase the way he'd been touching her, the way she looked at him, the intimacy that had nothing to do with being naked and everything to do with the way they orbited each other. "Oh, I see," I replied, my voice flat and emotionless. What else was there to say? What argument could I possibly make that would change anything? The divorce papers were signed. In two weeks, I'd be gone, off to start my new life and my new work, surrounded by people who actually valued what I had to contribute. Kyle's expression shifted slightly, something flickering across his face too quickly

It was in vain, for my chest would feel stuffy and it was as if a huge boulder would automatically weigh down on me. Rendering me no choice but to embrace the man and clutch onto his robe regardless of how many times he had broken my trust. Even if thousands of needle seems like assaulting my chest, still I chose to hold on because I love him. "No, Martin. What exactly is the problem? Do not casually mention divorce. Let us fix this, okay? I love you and we are married, let us talk this over, please?" I reach my hand trying to hold his arm as tears keeps pouring down my face- unabashed.