Husbands Stories Novels & Stories

“Adrian you are angry at me, I understand, but this is ours..” “And what the fuck are you going to tell your husband? That you have been having an affair with someone 22 years younger than you who’s nothing but a builder and that you are pregnant? What’s he supposed to do? Clap hands for us, huh? And throw us a party while at it?” She blinked tearfully. “I don’t know…” Adrian laughed moving back. She tried to touch him but he pushed her back. “Get rid of it.” “Adrian please-“

"Hehhe, I'll say it too, not now but soon." "You Ken, did Trixie tell you about that?" Huh? And why should I tell hubby? Well, there's no point, why would I even bother to tell him such things. "Ahm, Trix didn't say anything about that." hubby said and looked at me as if he was asking why I didn't tell a story, I just shrugged my shoulders at him. "Oh, even if you don't tell your wife, husbands and wives should tell each other secretly. You should be honest with each other."

“I was.” A waitress appeared, took our orders. I asked for water. Isabella ordered coffee. When the waitress left, Isabella leaned forward slightly. “So,” she said. “What’s this about?” I took a breath. “I want to tell you a story.” “About?” “My husband.” Her expression didn’t change, but I saw the shift in her eyes. The journalist’s instinct kicking in. “Go on,” she said. I folded my hands on the table. “You’ve been trying to write about what it’s really going for political spouses. What it costs. What gets hidden.”

" I was so furious I nearly rolled my eyes. He wanted to know what donating sperm felt like? What kind of idiotic excuse was that? I took a deep breath and forced down the urge to deal with his stupidity right there and then. At that moment, all I wanted was peace and quiet. "I don't care what your reason was. Deal with this immediately and get them out of my sight." Ryan nodded and was just about to speak when the two women instantly put on pitiful expressions and began their performance. "Ryan, you can't send us away." Martha burst into tears. "We're just country girls. Our family's poor, and life hasn't been easy. "To come to the city, we even sold the dozen chickens we kept back home. Th

They slide down our bodies, hands roaming and he covers me in passionate kisses. We make love on the couch in the living room. After that, we take a hot shower together and we lie, wrapped in a warm blanket. The dawn is breaking and we talk about before, the time we missed spending together. I tell him everything about Conor, too. “It was never a real marriage. But he made sure everyone believed it. I started asking him for a divorce as soon as I had more money. And then he began refusing. “ I rest my head against Dominic’s chest and feel his muscles shift as I say this.

“You’re not alone. You never were. But if you keep pretending, you’ll drown before anyone can reach you.” Celina swallowed hard. For the first time in weeks, she felt something crack. “No, I did,” her father cut in, stepping forward. His voice was harder, older, filled with barely contained anger. “We heard from your cousin. Word’s spreading. This man you married—he has another wife? Another life?” Celina finally turned to face them, her eyes red but defiant. “I didn’t know.” “That’s not the point!” her father snapped, the sharp crack of his palm hitting the dining table reverberating through the room like a gunshot. The plates rattled, and so did Celina’s resolve.

As much as was honest and possible and genuinely hers to hold. Starting with this. Her husband's voice in her kitchen in the evening, telling her about a small girl who had arrived in the world five days ago and who was, whatever else was true, part of the story now. Part of all of their stories. She listened. All the way to the end. ---

Camilla smiled that I thought was as fake as her husband. “Why not. Evenings with you are always fascinating.” Hayden’s gaze was still lingering when his lips curled in a smirk. “Speaking of fascination…” his orbs landed besides me and my body tensed. “Wouldn’t you introduce your wife, Theodore?” Instead of Hazel, my mother answered after beats of hesitation. “She’s Hazel, and Hazel, he’s Hayden, your husbands cousin and she’s Camilla, his wife.” She graced them with a tentative smile. Something dark and volatile emitted through me.

Now, less than fifteen minutes later, over sixteen thousand people are watching the livestream, and the comments are wild, making me fear that my phone is about to crash. “How did this happen?” I ask quietly, and it’s more of a rhetorical question, but Keith answers anyway. “I mean, crazy husbands only show up on a livestream, confessing to killing their mistresses, only to then go on to try and kill their wives ever so rarely, so you could say the people tuned in to witness the once in a lifetime drama first hand. You’ve become really popular within a few minutes, Ms Nalani,” he explains, and my mouth opens wide in pure shock. “Truly historical,” he adds, and I gasp, laughter falling from m

said Papadopoulos casually. "All right, where was my story earlier?" asked Aretha. "I'll tell the story," asked the husband. "You just enjoy your coffee and cigarettes, dear," said the wife. I just laughed, watching the husband and wife scrambled to tell a story. Then, it was Aretha's turn to take control. She began to continue the Papadopoulos story.