I Regret Marrying An Older Man Mga Nobela at Kwento

The officiant joked, "The groom may be a powerhouse in the business world, but today he's a total softie!" And it reminded me of something Nathan had said to me just the night before. "You have no idea how scared I was after I woke up. I was scared that I had missed my chance with you, scared you had already married someone else. Thank God John was blind and clueless, or I would've lost you forever." The crowd was still caught up in the emotion when suddenly, someone barged in. "Willow, are you even human? The whole family is falling apart and you're here getting married?"

I replied before smiling a little at him. I wished I could have felt offended by his words because that would mean that there was a part of me that didn’t completely agree with what he had just said. Instead, I felt like he had just accurately described the regrettable position that I have found myself in. I did marry a man for his money, although the decision wasn’t actively made by me, I did let my parents talk and force me into it. In the end, it was still my fault as much as theirs, if not more so.

He exclaimed. I curl my eyebrows and I look up at him as his words enter my head, unable to process the meaning behind them. Sensing my confusion he further explained. "Hope, I wasn't lying when I said I regret marrying you because you deserve someone better. Someone who will cherish you, unlike my son who disrespected you by never giving you the respect a wife deserves. By having affairs with multiple women," I'm shocked by his statement, embarrassing filling me. How can I mistake dad's words when he has been nothing but kind to me. I should have talked with him instead of going to conclusions.

Reggie's eyes hardened as old images replayed in his mind, "For a moment I felt like she wasn't the sophisticated lady I had heard she was. It was like I was meeting a completely different person who was not Zara Levine but someone else in her skin." Penny's fingers curled tightly around the railing as her eyes twinkled in appreciation for Reggie. "Yes, Reggie! Nice observation. At least there is someone with sharp eyes. You can catch Zara before your imbecile boss." She whispered to herself, concentrating on their convo. "No offense, sir. But I think it's her old feelings coming up on the surface. Zara had a forced marriage with a man she had never met before and he was not a good husband.

He said making a teasing face “Of course, they better get ready!’’ I said in a serious tone forgetting I was crying seconds ago “That's the baby girl I want to see” He smiled “Thanks a lot, hubby” I pouted cutely “You’re welcome” He smiled and left, one thing I like about my older man is how he respects and adores me, it's like the universe was saving me from Micheal when they pushed him out of my life, now I know I made the right decision asking my older man to marry me, it wasn't a bad idea after all.

"That's brave. Or stupid. I haven't decided which yet." "Can't it be both?" "With you? Probably." Something shifted in the room. Not forgiveness exactly. But acceptance. Acknowledgment that we were both figuring this out and neither of us had a manual. "Can I ask you something?" I said. "Haven't you been asking me things for the last twenty minutes?" "This is different. Personal." "Go ahead." "Do you regret marrying me? Knowing what you know now? How I operate?" He looked at me for a long time. "No. I don't regret it. I regret that I didn't see who you were sooner. That I tried to fit you into a box you were never going to stay in."

The way they moved together looked natural, like they’d done it a thousand times before. In another photo, she was smiling up at him. Beautiful, elegant, perfect. Everything I wasn’t. I wondered if this was what regret felt like. Real, bone-deep regret. Why had I agreed to marry Eden? The question played over and over in my mind like a broken record. But looking at these photos, feeling this pain in my chest, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe I could still leave. Get a divorce, disappear, start over somewhere far away where no one knew who I was or who I’d tried to be.

“You wanted this marriage, Kim. I did not plan this, you did. And now you think you can just leave the same way you planned this whole marriage? Like my own opinion did not—” “Yes, I want to leave! I regret ever marrying you! I regret ever loving you! I regret the days I spent trying to make this marriage work, trying to make you love me! I regret everything, so please, let…me… go!” I yelled at the top of my voice, enunciating the last part so it would sink in. “You never—” I stopped and swallowed my words as a strange emotion flashed across his face in an instant. I swear I saw that look, that hurting look. He looked as if he was deeply hurt by my words. The last time I saw that emotion was

I murmured letting out the breath when I felt her softened in my arms, "This is how things are." She squealed in surprise when I lifted her to sit on the granite counter behind her and I slid between her legs, not yet ready to let go. "I don't regret marrying you," I murmured against her lips unable to smile when she let out her breath suddenly, "But I do regret the way it happened, honey." "I don't," she said instantly. "I do," I insisted squeezing her hips, "The day before I was criticizing your ex for taking you to Las Vegas to get married and I was no better at dragging you towards a drunk judge who was enjoying the wedding of one of my friends."

> "When you told me you were pregnant, I panicked. I was terrified I’d hurt you, afraid I’d turn into the man who destroyed his own family like my father did. But my fear turned me into a coward. I ran away." Her breathing turned shaky. A quiet sob escaped her lips. > "You know what I regret most? It’s not losing you. It’s losing your trust." > "You stood strong on the ruins I left behind, and you kept going. While I—the man you loved—crumbled and vanished." She cried harder. The letter didn’t contain sweet promises or pleas to come back. There was no "please forgive me" or "I can’t live without you." Just truth. Guilt. Regret.