Novel & Cerita I Was A Male War Bride

“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.”

He looked away for a moment, as if wrestling with words. Then he cleared his throat. "Because you’re my wife." My breath caught in my throat. "What?" "In your past life," he said, voice steady, "you were betrothed to me. Our bond was sacred. Our blood runs together. Even death couldn’t separate us. We are entwined—eternally." I stared at him, stunned into silence. "How? Who joined us? Why?" "It was a cold sunny day," he began. "I remember it vividly. I was preparing for war in the Tanio Quarters. I was one of the top commanders then. Fierce. Focused. Until I saw you."

I looked down at our son, then up at the man I married. The war was over. Now it was time to rebuild. To raise our son and daughter in peace. To live—not as fugitives or fighters—but as a family. Together

Thinking I was kept in the dark, Lana breathed a sigh of relief and said happily, "That's good. Take good care of the wedding arrangements. After the baby is born, I'll hand over the company to you and be a housewife." I did not respond but silently opened the wedding invitation, looked at the name on it, and sneered. She had no idea that I already had someone else as the bride, although the wedding was proceeding as planned. The bride's name on the invitation was not Lana Piller. It was Mabel Dawson, my childhood sweetheart. Lana always thought I had no other choice but her, which was why she always acted so superior, thinking she had me completely under her thumb. However, little did she k

Even the damn steward, who hesitated just long enough when I give instructions to make me feel the cracks in my authority. Lady Storm. The title sounded heavier now that reality was steadily settling in. I pressed the quill down too hard. Ink bled through the corner of the ledger page, staining the margin. Worth. That was the word he used. As if I were a coincidence being weighed. Days out in war had made him a cold man. A man whose words pricked and at times hurt. This man was now my husband. He married me because it was necessary. Our alliance was built with signatures and ceremony, not sentiment. I was not the young girl with pigtails anymore not was he the boy pulling on my pigtails.

He took both my hands, his thumbs brushing over my wedding rings — the original and the one he gave me during our renewal. “Emma,” he said, voice thick with emotion, “thank you for being the bride I never wanted… but the wife I desperately needed. You saved me. Not just from a bad merger. From myself. From a life that was empty and cold. You taught me how to love. How to trust. How to be a father.” Tears filled my eyes. “I was lost,” he continued. “Angry. Broken. And you walked into my life in a dress that wasn’t yours and changed everything. You gave me a daughter. You gave me a home. You gave me a reason to fight for something better than money and power.”

“Look Ash… you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just want you to know that it doesn’t make me love you any less.” “No, I have to. You worked so hard for tonight just to have it ruined by that bastard.” “I know you’ve probably guessed by now, but that bastard is Sophie’s father. I was married to him for three years after running away from our engagement but not once was I treated like his wife. He never even bothered to look at me when all I wanted was for him to see me. Even when Vanessa framed me over and over again, he believed every single word she said. And so did his family. They treated me like I was nothing.

I extended my arm and watched as this stranger slid his ring around my finger. The ease of my father’s hands told me that it was all over and soon this man and I were both bent over the table, signing and sealing our marriage. I stared down at his name, Hendrix Williams, my new husband who was probably going to treat me worse than a dog. It felt like a bad dream but my life was just that each and every day. I pushed up, my father finally stepping away from me only to shake Mr William’s hand.

I asked trying not to hurt her. "Yes, My husband, my life, My love. He died in a war. It was a very deadly war against the huge empire in the neighborhood. We won the war but he was the cost of it. Rafiq was leading the war and to save him he took the arrow in his heart. He always loved Sultan so much. He always wanted him to grow more and more. He was a right hand of him. He was just two days younger than him but always considered him the smaller one. He was Rafiq's Brother, Jannat Begum Jaan's Son." she said feathering her son's head. "Brother?" I asked not able to digest what she said.

"Drink up first!" I drank it too. "It all started in 1945," Uncle Brody began. "When Japan lost the war." Uncle Brody told me that at the time, there was a young Javanese woman who became a sex slave of Japanese soldiers or what is commonly called jugun ianfu. The woman was held with dozens of other Javanese ianfu jugun in an ianjo - Japanese for a brothel - in Surabaya. The young Javanese woman became pregnant without knowing who the father of the fetus was. She was raped in turn by the Japanese soldiers.