My Darling Husband Novels & Stories

"I raised you to study, not to let you learn your mother's habit of seducing men. That woman is dead but the dirty blood is still flowing in your body. You make me very disappointed." Aretha was hit very hard by Oscar. She staggered backward, the corner of her lip-biting so hard that it bled. Blood stains appeared on her weak white face at the corners of her lips, which further enhanced the beauty of Aretha's face. "My mother died without closing her eyes. She did not want to let a beast like you live in this world. My mother was your official wife, but you forced my mother to commit suicide so that you could marry Daria. I am your daughter, and now I have been turned into a stepchild. Do yo

"Also, don't refer to him as my husband, we divorced and you said the good things you did for me? I can't even recall any of them, my memories must be short." Though Mary hated the way Darling was behaving, she still needed to swallow her pride and keep begging. "You can't just leave us like this and-" "Stand up before anyone sees you like this and stop trying to make me return to you or your son because it won't even work. You are very much welcome to my party, eat as much as you want because I'm being nice just like a wife should...I mean ex-wife should." Darling smiled at Mary whose face had lost colour and while they stood in a corner, Darling had failed to notice the presence that stood

Emma stood frozen in the middle of her living room. Her phone slowly slipped from her trembling fingers and landed on the couch. The call had ended. But the stranger's words continued to echo inside her head. Daniel Hart isn't your husband. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. For seven years, she had lived with Daniel. Shared a home with him. Shared holidays, birthdays, arguments, laughter, and dreams. She had married him. Hadn't she? Emma suddenly wasn't sure anymore. Her breathing became uneven.

Now, here I was, heart lodged in my throat, terrified for the man whose emotional absence had nearly broken me. *Please be okay, Khalid. Please.* The image of him collapsing in our living room replayed relentlessly: the way his powerful frame had crumpled like paper, the tablet clattering, his face draining of color. Despite everything—the late nights, Natasha’s name on his lips, the hidden medication, the slow erosion of our marriage—I couldn’t stop the wave of terror. This was the husband I had once loved with every fiber of my being. The man who had swept me off my feet at that charity gala four years ago with his intensity and promises.

It had completely faded when Davy was in the picture, but now I could see life pulsing from there. I turned to my husband, his face bright like a diamond in the dark, and my lips pulled apart, smiling. There was no way I was forgetting this memory ever. “I love you, Anna Walton.” He said with so much sincerity that my heart squeezed. “I love you, Hale Davy Walton.” Resting my head on his shoulder, I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent whilst praying to whoever was up there watching us that he would make this marriage last.

He grinned, that was his wife. "Even as much as I loathed you then, I couldn't deny the fact that you're the most beautiful man I have seen all my life. A beautiful devil!" He smiled again. "You were vicious, your demeanor oozed danger, I felt I would burn if I came close to you. I did burn, I burn for you, Darian. Well, that's after many months of getting married to the beautiful devil."

As the morning sun painted the room in a warm glow, I slowly opened my eyes to the gentle touch of sweet kisses on my neck, sending a delightful shiver down my spine. A wave of joy washed over me, and I couldn't help but smile, feeling utterly content. "Good morning sunshine," came Dante's soft voice, whispered lovingly into my ear. With love in my heart, I replied, "Good morning, my dear husband." "Wait, we are still married, are we?" I questioned wide eyed.

Our marriage was going from a WWE match to a lame video game. My husband was a workaholic earlier now he basically lived in the office. The days we meet face to face is very rare. I was burning in an inferno I haven't sinned but yet I was suffering maybe loving Dane Wellington was my sin and I ought to be punished for that sin. Fathima had unwavering faith in our marriage even when we didn't have any. She filled me in on Dane's where abouts. According to her a wife should know what her husband was upto. Though I didn't hear my sister's name in his schedule so Fathima is definitely missing my husband's complete time table for his to do list.

"You don't mind, do you, darling husband? After all, a good wife should look beautiful for her man." The way she said 'darling husband' with that mock sweetness made heat rush through my veins like molten metal. There was sarcasm dripping from every word, but also something else. Something that made me want to grab her and show her exactly what kind of husband I could be. "Whatever makes you happy," I managed to say, proud that my voice came out steady. "How generous of you." She turned back to Charlotte. "Shall we begin?" What followed was two hours of the most exquisite torture I had ever experienced.

“Now I’m gonna feel like a total inarticulate klutz saying mine.” I lift the hand I’m holding and press a soft kiss to her fingers. “Darling, whatever you have to say will be perfect… don’t worry.” “Levi, you might not know this, but I kinda claimed you and your cute behind from the first day I met you, way back when I should have been too young to think about forever.” Her words spill forth, and I can see her trying to keep her composure, her lips trembling slightly as she continues. “But when I met you again, it was not that part of you that captured me; neither was it your handsome face or famous smile. It was the light in your heart and the way your soul fit perfectly with mine. And even