I Once Married You Novel Novels & Stories

―How is it possible that you keep getting pregnant by the wrong men?‖ Her face flushed with anger. ―Excuse me?‖ ―First Clyde and now Owen.‖ ―For your information, I was married to Owen. It was perfectly alright for me to be intimate with him!‖

I massaged my head and let out a deep sigh. This is really the biggest problem of the luxurious like me, easily fooled! I groaned frustratedly. "I left and moved away because I ran away from my marriage. Then, what? Suddenly, I'm married?!"

Anyway, as the moonlight fades and the stars twinkle above, I want to express my heartfelt thanks again to each and every one of you. “I Married My EX”—a story filled with love, revenge, and mystical lupine magic—has now reached its final chapter. Drew and Jette’s journey unfolded through moonlit forests, ancient grudges, and surprising twists. Your unwavering support, your laughter shared in secret, and your whispered encouragement fueled my imagination.

Our marriage should have ended six months ago when Isolde Marrow returned to the pack after being away for years when we newly got married. What surprises me is that this particular scene feels familiar. The air, the tension, the divorce—it has all happened nine times in the past. In the exact same order. And the last one happened just two hours ago. He continues. “You are nothing but a useless barren. I need an heir, which it’s obvious you can’t give me.” I hear snickers from the maids, and the wave of humiliation that strikes me makes my fingers instinctively tighten around my cutlery.

He reached over and laced his fingers through mine, and we sat like that for a long while, the fire crackling low, the ocean steady and endless in the dark. “I need to tell you something,” I said eventually, my voice quieter now, more vulnerable than I usually let myself sound. “I’ve been thinking about it since we got here.” “Tell me.” “I was married to Isaac for five years.” I stared out at the water instead of at him, because it was easier to say this way. “Five years, and I don’t think I ever once felt safe standing next to him. Not really. There was always this undercurrent of waiting for something to go wrong, waiting for him to disappear, waiting to be reminded I wasn’t enough somehow

"Nathan, I know you're just angry! Don't worry, I don't mind at all! "Once you've calmed down, we can go register our marriage, okay? I've got all the documents ready. We can register directly here in Utheria. This time, we'll definitely get it done." "Register?" I scoffed. I had scheduled dates to register our marriage 15 times. And what had she done? She'd abandoned me over and over for another man. Now that I'd finally let go completely, now that I didn't want her anymore, suddenly she wanted to register our marriage?

His eyes followed me, brow furrowed. When I reached him, I didn’t stop right away. Instead, I placed my hands on his shoulders. He flinched, just slightly. And that almost made me laugh. I leaned in just enough for my voice to drop, softer now. “My dear husband…” I tilted my head, my gaze locking into his. “Let’s have an open marriage.” Silence. Yes, I would serve him that hot dish first.

"Quit squeezing the same lemon. Also, I'm the second son. If we're going by order, it's not my turn yet." The room fell silent. Everyone knew exactly what Zac's marriage looked like. He and his wife probably wouldn't even recognize each other if they met on the street, and expecting a baby from them was a joke. After successfully ending the topic, Eric spat out the grape skin. "All of you, go do something productive before you make my wife feel awkward." "What's there to feel awkward about? We're not–" Delilah started to explain, but Ophelia tugged her sleeve mid-sentence. "Mom, weren't you going out to catch a show today? I'll go with you."

She had lived it once before. It was her bridal chamber. The night she became Mrs. Cross. Her pulse raced. She turned toward the bed, the silk gown spread neatly across it. The very same gown she had worn to her wedding. White, perfect, sparkly new. Aria staggered back, her knees nearly giving out. Her mind reeled. She remembered. The first time. That night three years ago. Her family had dressed her like a doll and handed her to Damian Cross. She had walked down the aisle with hope, with nervous joy, believing marriage would finally give her value, finally give her love.

“Please, you don’t get to call me out. You’re not even wearing your ring.” Grace glanced down at her bare finger and had no comeback. She’d lost it during an accident about six months into the marriage, and never bothered to replace it. Eventually, she’d just... forgotten. “And so what if we’re married? Men get to go out and have fun—why can’t we?” Dana downed the rest of her drink in one smooth shot. Technically, that logic made sense, but the way they were doing it? Not exactly subtle. “Then at least find a less public place, missy,” Grace muttered with an eye-roll.