Housewife Novels & Stories

"Then can you describe to us what Harry's usual character is?" "Character?" The middle-aged woman's tone was obviously a little dismissive. "He's just a hooligan ruffian, he has no character, he doesn't do anything serious all day long, and he is proficient in eating, drinking, prostitution and gambling." "You're saying he has a habit of prostitution and gambling?" "Yes, of course there is, and their family is being collected by loan sharks, and the walls are covered with paint, and the whole building is disturbed." The middle-aged woman's tone was filled with disgust.

She ordered some pork and said she wanted to make some bolognese. “I did not know how to make bolognese in the past. You’re the one who taught me how to do so.” She looked up and smiled. She looked wistful. “When I first started my business, I wasn’t eating on time. To take care of my health, you learned how to cook.” I smiled too. She was right. I had cared about her too much. She grew up in a small village. To catch up with me, she neglected her health and only focused on her work.

“The woman at the front desk, you’re fucking her, right? If you really want to make this right, then why do you still have the audacity to bring her again and fuck her at the house I lived, Jack?” “That’s not true.” “I have pictures, and that woman was more than willing to share your fair share of escapades. My self-esteem’s at its lowest and I’ve been asking myself, on top of the many questions I have already, why did my husband cheat? Is it because I don’t look beautiful enough? Am I not sexy enough? Do I bore him already?” “No. That’s not true.” Jack attempted to go near Hyacinth. She raised her hand to stop him.

In their world, the woman always carried the heavier blame. And now, the impossible request hung over her like a stormcloud: Ethan. August’s cousin. His chosen solution. Her heart twisted at the thought. She didn’t want to imagine Ethan’s face, but it forced itself into her mind anyway—his quiet gaze, his steady presence in the family. Ethan was trusted. Reliable. And now, her husband wanted her to cross the one line she had vowed never to break.

This was my life and I had made peace with it. That's not me being dramatic. I mean it genuinely. I was thirty-two years old, a junior partner at Hargrove and Sloane, the legal guardian of a three-year-old who drew cats on everything, and I had not been on a date since the Obama administration. But I had a routine that worked. I had a daughter, not biologically, not legally in the strictest sense, but mine in every way that mattered — and I had a job I was good at, and I had an apartment with enough counter space to actually cook, which I had learned to value more than I ever expected.

The one she read earlier at the restaurant. She clicked on it and she saw the headline. "A HOUSEHELP NEEDED" She read aloud and scoffed. She scrolled down and saw that more than 2,000 people were interested, both female and male. "Woah, why are many people so interested in this kind of job?" She asked herself reading through the news and then her eyes caught with the pay. "OMG!! USD 600!! Just to be a maid?? That's f**king huge!" She exclaimed.

I responded. “Well, this is my house.. and every room here. .belongs to me.” She answered. I was quiet for a while, wondering what to say to her. “You should be awake, doing the chores, doing the dishes.. like every responsible house wife should do.” She spoke with disgust evident in her voice. “Apparently, I am not one. By the way, it is the duty of a maid to do all the chores you listed.” I responded defiantly. “No, dear. It is your duty as my son’s wife to do the things that would make him happy and comfortable including making sure his house is neat and well arranged and everything is in order. “

Other maids hid behind while pacing back sluggishly. “You don't really have to get angry at the maids. You keep firing the babysitters the same way you fire your workers. None of them ever satisfied you. I don't even think there's anyone out there that can ever satisfy you, you're unappeasable. Richard Sullivan, shoot your shot for once.” “What you need isn't a babysitter. You need a wife.” Bryant interrupted instantly as he stepped down from the staircase. “What do you mean?” Puzzled, he lifted a brow at him with his eyes darkened with suspicion.

She's always been the well-reserved type, selfless, sacrificing herself for others. Nathaniel groans hunching down, picking a wood tossing it into the fire then straightened upholding the top edge the concrete wall leaning his head between his outstretched arms. The quite night keep Nathaniel thinking more, with the while household sleeping. Each time Nathaniel tries forgetting and moving on from his wife's death-he finds himself right back to square one. Her death still hurt him mentally and physically. Thou Samantha moving into the house was still helpful-she just doesn't cover all the needs. A little was made.

"Yes I can Mam. I've never worked before. But I'm sure I can." I don't really understand what a housekeeper is, isn't it the same as a maid. Why have to organize all household needs? Maybe it means shopping, cleaning and cooking. Oh, the important thing for me to get a proper job. I hope, they will hire me in this job, Wisnu's education cost are not small enough, and force me to accept this job. After separate with Bram, All of Wisnu's needs are on my bear. I don't want to have a relationship or ask for share from that cheater. 'Maharani, you must be strong and keep spirit!'