Romans & histoires Ineffable Husbands

Not from the forgotten presence. Not from the First State. Something personal. Something human. Her husband. The memory appeared without warning. His smile. His eyes. The way he looked at her on the day they married. Emma frowned. Why now? Of all moments— Why him? The forgotten presence stirred again. LOOK CAREFULLY. Emma blinked. "What?" The memory sharpened. His face became clearer. More detailed. More precise. And suddenly Emma realized something she had never noticed before. Something impossible. Something absurd.

I nodded slowly, and then shifted back, "yes, I am." For the first time on that emotionless face, I saw a slight reaction. "I'm into threesomes as long as our add on is a guy, who would ever say no to two cocks?" If he had a drink on his lips, it would have been his turn to choke. "Cut the crap Wilson." I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest, "before you give me the bullshit, oh, this marriage isn't real, oh you'll only be my wife on paper, yada yada crap," I said, mocking his tone, "I'll beat you to it."

Stolen moments with my husband. Imperfect. Messy. Exhausting. And absolutely perfect exactly as it was.

Kane didn’t even look like a response person. He looked like Selina, down to the smallest detail, but something was wrong. Red, restless eyes. A faint smell of weed in the air. A wrinkled suit, careless hair, sneakers where polish should have been. It was disappointing, embarrassing even. And the unease in his stare warned me that this was only the beginning of something far worse. Every word that came out of his mouth was rude and ridiculous, the company wouldn't survive a month in his lazy hands. Not only was I deprived of my rightful position in the company, but the reason was that I wasn’t married. My father never said this would be a hindrance to my title, he never did.

The man who told me that was my way to learn to be a God damn better wife? “Husband?” I scoffed. With a surge of strength I didn’t know I had, I wrenched my arm out of his grip. “Yes, you are my husband on a piece of paper! But when have you ever been an actual husband to me?” Aaron stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language. “What the hell is ‘actual’? Does it even matter? Does it fucking matter? How do I treat you?” “Yes! It mattered!” I screamed, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. “Being a husband mattered, but you weren’t one! You were never fucking one. But that’s fine, because I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need you.”

I worked three part-time jobs just to get him into a good one. As for Evangeline, after she gave birth, she checked herself into a luxury postpartum retreat that cost over 4,000 dollars a night and stayed there for about a month. I hadn't dared to ask her, thinking that she'd hooked up with some rich businessman and didn't dare to tell me. As it turned out, the person she'd hooked up with wasn't anyone else. No, it was my very husband who had pretended to be a broke, good-for-nothing nobody in front of me.

The husband said and pecked his wife's cheek before heading to the restroom. Charlene breathed slowly, she glanced at the woman beside her. She took a sip of champagne and smiled at Charlene. “You're beautiful–” Charlene didn't pivot her head to look at the woman beside her, she thought she couldn't be talking to her. She was still looking around when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. “You come with your husband?” Puzzlingly, she parted her lips. “Um, no. I came with my dad.” She answered nervously.

“Ungrateful much? My husband barely lasts three minutes. We haven’t even started and he’s already finished—it’s depressing.” “Some suffer from drought, some from flood. Count your blessings.” “Been married ten years. No sparks left. He talks a big game but collapses in two minutes.” “If you don’t want him, send him my way. I’m starting to grow cobwebs.” Ava stared at the screen, horrified. She rubbed her temples and typed again. “I’m serious.” This time, the tone of the replies shifted. “Okay but… what direction do I bow in to meet a husband like yours?”

"Due to the husband's sexual dysfunction and infertility, the marriage has irretrievably broken down." The words were a snarl on the page, a direct insult to my status as the Alpha and captain of the Manchester Ice Kings. My jaw was locked so tight I could feel the pulse thumping in my temple. Dysfunction? Infertility? I slammed the papers onto the Macassar ebony table. The nerve of that woman. Had she forgotten the way she’d gripped my shoulders three nights ago? I had marked her, claimed her, and made her scream my name until her voice gave out. Her body had been a wildfire under mine, far more honest than the ice-cold legal jargon she was hiding behind now.

Husband and wife. And nothing else mattered.