Romans & histoires Married To A Stranger

" Yes, you did. But you still showed me more heart than my family did. You could escape on the first occasion and start over, but you stayed, showing me loyalty I forgot existed." " Is that so strange? I am your wife," I replied, slightly offended by his words. " You got married to a stranger, to the man who could offer you nothing. Any sane woman would choose to leave." " Are you suggesting there is something wrong with me?" I took a step back and crossed my arms over my chest. Marcuse chuckled. " I wouldn't dare." I raised my eyebrow, as his words did not sound too serious.

“Give it time, Señora. Not everything is what it seems.” Her words stay with me long after she’s gone. I sip the tea slowly, hoping it might soothe the ache inside me. But when I finally turn off the light and sink beneath the covers, the cold lingers. And as the silence stretches through the dark, I realize the truth. I’m married to a stranger. And for better or worse, I have no idea how to find my way out of this loneliness.

The stranger's voice came again, this time demanding and louder. I shuddered as I scribbled on the papers, guilt ripping my insides. I was happily married to Michael but here I was, signing a contract marriage with a stranger. This wasn't a choice, it was out of desperation. After my husband got involved in an accident,bills started piling up. Insurance failed us, and my job as a bartender did little to help. Then I met him–Henry Ford. The stranger who offered to help me out but not without a price–a marriage of convenience. I'd pretend to be his wife for a year.

"She thought she was helping. Thought she was forcing me to build a real life instead of hiding behind my work. But all she did was turn marriage into another business transaction I have to navigate." The woman was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I'd rather marry a complete stranger than go through with marrying someone who betrayed me." Something about the way she said it made me look at her. At the determination underneath the pain. At the strength underneath the vulnerability. "I'd rather marry a complete stranger than play by my family's rules," I said. Our eyes met. Something passed between us. "At least a stranger couldn't hurt you," she said quietly. "Not the way someone you love

Like a broken tape. I signed my life away, just a few letters on a dotted line, a swirl of ink, and two words, I do, and that was it. The ring twinkles on my finger catching and reflecting the lights, a glaring evidence. In only a span of a few hours since my dad told me about the arrangement. I am married to a stranger. I peek at him out of the corner of my eyes, the handsome stranger from the mall, but a stranger nonetheless. My goodness, what were the odds?

she said. I nodded affirmatively. I could imagine her fear, but never would I have thought that anyone would prefer being in the streets than in a home, where they are taken care of. “So, what are you running from?” She asked. “Uhmm, my husband?” I said, having some reservations. “Husband?” Her voice tone and facial expression carried her surprise. “I'm married to a stranger,” I said, digging into my burger. “He is not at all who he claims he is,” I found myself very expressive to a stranger.

Moving to the closet, she pulled out her suitcase to begin packing up, leaving Weston and me there, wondering how our lives were just flipped upside down in five minutes. “Are you sure?” I asked as I looked up at Weston. Weston tentatively placed his hands on my knees. “Wren, I’m not going to force you to do anything, but I want to try.” I swallowed hard and stared into his eyes, somewhat hoping they held all the answers. My stomach turned with the fear of what was about to happen. Going home with Weston, remaining his wife. We were married. I was married to a man I didn’t even know. People didn’t get married to strangers, at least not in modern day society.

The stranger I never wanted to marry became my husband, best friend, my cuddle mate, my adventure partner and eventually, the father of my kids. THE END

Under a sky lit by fireworks, the man held her close and kissed her. Each short clip drove a blade straight into my chest. That same man had reposted a thread asking, "What's your greatest achievement so far?" In the comments, he'd written: "My greatest achievement is stealing a rich man's wife, putting a cuckold's horns on him, getting her to bear my son—and even making her abort his child. "That idiot still thinks he has a perfect, happy family. Every day, he works his ass off, full of motivation, earning money for the three of us.

"See you at eight." "Muah." I kissed the word into the phone. The truth was, no one could put up with either one of us, which was likely why neither of us had married, even though we're both stunning and by all standards amazing potential mates. Kappy, on the other hand, managed to get the looks, the money, and the monogamous, relationship-bound, committed personality and had virtually been with Lance Ashbrough since conception...vomit. The three of us made quite a trio.