Novel & Cerita My Husband Is Always Cold

After all, he is my husband. His face looks cold and manly. Between his eyebrows, I can sense the air of the noble. Maybe because he has stayed in bed for a long time, his skin looks pale. But he is still handsome. At this moment, I think, if he were not sick, I would never be his wife. I should feel lucky that he is a vegetable.

my husband paraded the hideous dress "It will surely protect you from the cold evening of Spain." Oh good heavens, I pray for strength and patience not to rip the dress in his hand. I badly wanted to cut it into pieces and wring my dear husband's neck! Sighing and exhaling deeply, I pointedly glared at my husband who was hiding the amusement in his eyes. Oh this was amusing for him, huh? I will surely show him amusement! "You should not worry about the cold, Iñigo. You should know by now that I can withstand any frosty encounter, " His eyes narrowed at my insinuation "Me being your wife is a testament to my thick skin that can withstand the coldness."

"Why are you so obsessed with my marriage? If my husband keeps me here, that’s none of your business. It’s my private life!" "You’re right. I wouldn’t understand something like that, so I must sound annoying," he said, though he clearly had no regrets. I almost regretted saving him, yet despite my coldness, he only moved closer. "I’m sorry, doctor. I was only trying to help. It’s my way of thanking you," he said, his voice smooth. "If your problem is a husband who seems cold—who acts like he doesn’t love you anymore—I know how to fix that."

My husband — Sebastian Whitmore — was nowhere to be found. The chair beside me remained empty, a silent reminder of the distance he clearly wanted to maintain. I tried not to let it bother me, but as time passed, the absence grew heavier. I scanned the room, searching for him. But he was gone. He hadn’t been by my side since we arrived here. And maybe this was his way of showing me exactly what kind of marriage this would be. But instead of feeling angry… I felt something else. Worry.

I wanted to shower under hot water. I pulled my feet out. He was still swimming in cold water so magnificently. My body was heated after copulation. I was used to the cold. But it was really freezing outside. I was concerned about repairing the heat in my apartment. Now, here I was with my husband. He could purchase everything he looked at. My heart didn't stop racing. I glanced at his back. My inside churned. It wasn't just after the effect of copulation. I could feel and realize that it was more than just physical. I was falling for my husband.

But I think he preferred to be alone so he wouldn’t let me see him troubled and distressed. This time though, I couldn’t keep my distance. At least not tonight. Tonight, I knew I was a very big source of his distress. Tonight, I wanted to share his burden and help ease his worries with my presence. It was a chilly night. The nights were getting colder everyday and soon, snow was going to cover the whole place. Snow will be covered with snow. I tightened the jacket around me as I stepped outside, looking for my handsome husband. I found him leaning against the hard rock wall, a few feet next to the front door.

His lips have formed a pout, and there is an angry furrow on his forehead. "You should have told me you were cold." I smile. "It's not that bad..." "Your fingers are like ice... I bet your toes are the same. We need to buy you warmer clothes for the cold months." "There isn't even snow outside," I point out. "And you can still swim in the ocean... it's just me that is sensitive." His arms wrap tighter around me. "You're lucky to have a husband who is a walking furnace. I will warm you."

~~Julie~~ My husband, Ryan, is standing on the karaoke stage, making a fool of himself. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway, his tie long abandoned, and his cheeks are flushed from too much whiskey. “And I………will always love you…..” he sings, closing his eyes. His voice is terrible.

I lost my actual father and I don't think I'm ready to lose him too. Getting up from my sleeping form, I searched for my dear husband but the room got no sign of him and his side of the bed is cold. These last few days, he barely comes home, he spends most of his time working in his office or in his study. He sleeps less and doesn't eat his meals on time. As currently, there's some problem with his mafia and on the company, I'm not sure, but that's what from what I heard from their conversations.

For one hazy, warm moment, I almost smile. Then reality sinks back in. I reach out instinctively across the massive bed, searching for the furnace-like heat of my husband. The sheets beside me are cold. A spike of worry shoots through me. He was burning up with fever when I fell asleep curled against him. What if he got worse? I sit up, wincing at the deep ache in my muscles, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My bare feet touch the cool marble floor. I need water. My throat is parched, and my head feels fuzzy from crying so much last night.