Her Husbands Other Life Novels & Stories

“My father was never the same again.” And that was the end of the conversation in that direction. She started the next sentence, by asking about my life. If I had any siblings. I told her that I didn't, but I did tell her that I was married before. “Oh, you were?” She asked, actually surprised by that. “Tell me what happened.” “Life happened, I guess. My husband Hudson, and I just grew apart and I never saw it. I just kept holding on, doing everything for him and his family.” I poked at the lobster. “I guess it wasn't enough.”

“I know. But we can’t stop yet. Not here.” I pressed my palms to my knees, forcing air into my lungs. “You know, when I agreed to marry you, I thought the worst that could happen was bad headlines. I didn’t think it would turn into a survival movie.” His mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. “You didn’t marry a man, Adrian. You married a war.” “That’s not comforting,” I muttered. He crouched down beside me, his eyes searching mine. “I’m not trying to comfort you. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

But I was married to him now, on the outside we were a perfect couple and Mason was polite but behind he close doors, he cared less about me. I hoped to change things that year as we clocked two years together. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions and our marriage was like a plaster to a leaking gas pipe. While I stood in the kitchen, I used my hand towel to wipe off the sweat off my forehead as I stared in admiration. I had prepared a master piece, the Mansion was Empty, I had leased all the household staff on a abrupt day off to spend the day with my husband, Mason. I carried the last plate, heading to the dinning table when I heard approaching steps, he walked down the stairs already d

The music was too loud for a confrontation. Laughter spilled across the private lounge like champagne, sharp and careless, bouncing off crystal glasses and polished marble floors. She stood at the entrance for a moment longer than necessary, her fingers tightening around the strap of her worn handbag as she took it all in. And then she saw him. Her husband was seated comfortably on a leather couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other wrapped around another woman. The woman was young, slim, beautiful in a way that magazines approved of. She wore a tight red dress that clung to her body like it had been sewn on with intention, her long legs crossed elegantly as she laughed at so

On her way out, she was kicking and screaming about proving me wrong. I merely shook my head with a scoff, not taking her seriously. Two years later, I found true love with a young, talented pianist from a prestigious family. With Lynne’s blessing, we had the wedding of the century. Only at that moment did I realize that, since the beginning of time, true romantics often came from those born into privilege. A real connection could only be formed once material needs were met. Meanwhile, Krystal fell into despair when her seventh attempt to kickstart her business went bust. She took her life by stepping off the ledge. -END-

“Not when you were talking about your day, not when you were talking about stress, not even in passing.” “So?” I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “He’s out working. I’m working. That’s what our married life looks like now.” “And you’re okay with that?” she asked. “Him out there in the world with Olivia?” “Yes,” I said firmly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “Because you sound like you’re okay with this new thing going on in your home,” she replied. “And instead of doing something about it, you’re enjoying another man’s company.”

With that, I turned around and dialed the number for the police. “Officer, I want to report a crime! My husband transferred my premarital assets without my consent to his mistress!” “I suspect they are plotting something!”

Trying not to look like the jealous and insecure wife everyone wanted to believe I was. Jason listened. He didn’t interrupt me. So I continued. “Then there was another woman.” Jason looked surprised. “Another one?” I nodded. “Yes.” I picked up the bottle of water and poured some into my glass. “My husband has another baby mama. ” Jason slowly leaned back in his chair. “Oh.” “Yes. Oh.” I laughed, but tears filled my eyes again. “My life is actually a joke.” “And then there is Kamara.” Jason’s eyes remained on me. I told him about Kamara. About all the things that had happened since I married David.

“Three weeks ago. He called and said: Dom’s found the right shape and it’s going to be complicated and I think it’s going to be worth it.” I looked at the bench. “And Richard?” I said. She was quiet. “Richard,” she said. “Sees threat where he should see possibility. He has always done this. It’s a family failing in some of us.” She looked at the rosemary. “His father was the same.” Was. Past tense. “Your husband died?” I said. “Seven years ago,” she said. “Heart.” She said it with the flat acceptance of a woman who had processed the grief and arrived at the other side of it. “He and Dominic were—” She stopped. “Complicated.”

Emma stood frozen in the middle of her living room. Her phone slowly slipped from her trembling fingers and landed on the couch. The call had ended. But the stranger's words continued to echo inside her head. Daniel Hart isn't your husband. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. For seven years, she had lived with Daniel. Shared a home with him. Shared holidays, birthdays, arguments, laughter, and dreams. She had married him. Hadn't she? Emma suddenly wasn't sure anymore. Her breathing became uneven.