My Husband Is My Love Novels & Stories

She locks me on top of her, running he fingers softly through my hair and I close my eyes enjoying it. "I love you, husband." "I love you too, wife."

"From what you've told me, you weren't exactly a great husband." "I gave her everything. A house. Money. Status." "But did you love her?" The question hung in the air. Did I love Scarlet? I'd wanted her. Possessed her. Married her. Had a child with her. But love? Love was weakness. Love was what made people vulnerable and stupid. "I loved her in my own way," I said finally. "And what way is that?" "The way that matters. I made her my wife. I gave her my name. I would have given her everything if she'd just stayed."

Mari asked Andrei when they were sitting in the hall again. "Maybe the other day, I want you for a few days!" Andrei replied with a wink. Mari immediately bit her lip, she had been teasing Andrei for a while. Andrei always stopped her because they were not married yet. "I like what you said, my husband!" Mari's eyes were still blinking. Andrei laughed at that. "What's so funny?" Mari asked hesitantly. "Nothing! It's just that, you are really cute and it cannot be irresistible. That's why I'm deeply in love with you!" Andrei was serious.

It must be a good decision to carry on. "Fill and sign that paper," he uttered without any vibration in his voice. He may not be afraid to lose me. Quiet pity for this poor, sick woman. "All right. I sign this because I love you. Honey, even though we're departing through this paper, I'll always love you no matter what. I'm sorry, honey, for the burden I gave to you all these years." My tears were falling. I should have to remain calm, but my heart never stopped telling my true emotions. I really loved my husband more than my life. I really do care for him.

I could see his pulse racing in his sweat-slicked throat. "How much, flower? How much do you love your husband?" He rasped. Sniffling, I soaked the towel in the water, squeezed lightly, and placed it on his forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, a small groan slipping from his lips. "I love my husband beyond what words can express. If my love were numbers, they wouldn't be contained even in a million books." His smile widened. "Kiss me goodnight, Solana."

Rowoon’s soft breathing filled the room, a comforting reminder of everything they’d built together. This was it. This was their home. Their lives. “I love you,” Alessa whispered, looking at him, “I love too, my love”. And thus concludes the tale of "My Husband Hates Me," a journey that began with hate but blossomed into a story of love. ~~~~~~@~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~ END *@*@* If you guys want I can write another story about their son Roowon but the story will be completly different than this story.

"I like you! I actually love you!" She grabbed both my shoulder and shook me a little. I just started at her. I can't process this confession. Am I hearing it right? It's probably just the alcohol affecting me too. Even though if I say "you are just drunk" to her... Alcohol makes you an honest person! her sentence hit me hard I almost got sobered. How did this happen? What did I do to make her fall in love with me? What's this awkward situation where the wife of the actor I like so much fall in love with me?

That realization made my throat constrict. I'd been given the kidney a few months earlier. To Christian. My husband. He'd needed it, and I'd not asked questions. That's what love is, isn't it? Sacrificing pieces of you so the one you love can live on. I wasn't allowed to be present in the hospital for the procedure itself. Hospital rules or something, but I visited him afterward. Pale but alive. Breathing. Smiling. And that was enough. As long as he's fine, I don't care about anything else.

Aisha, late nights of investigation, and the growing strength I found in my work. “I do love you,” I said finally, my voice soft but clear. “Or at least, I love the man I married. The one who looked at me across that crowded gala like I was the only real thing in his world. The one who danced with me in this very room at 2 AM, who made me believe that love could be intense and consuming and worth every sacrifice. That Khalid — the passionate, focused, protective man — I still love him. Deeply.” Hope flickered briefly in his dark eyes. He leaned forward slightly, as if the words were oxygen.

How the hell was I supposed to explain that this wasn’t like the usual chaos—selling his homes, wrecking his cars past saving, or trashing his things like I used to without a second thought in my past life? “I’m not sure he will. My marriage is over, Mom.” I sniffled, trying to stop a new fresh bout of tears. My throat burned. My chest ached like someone had carved out my ribs and left the rest to collapse. “It’s not, Princess. Believe me, it’s not. Couples have problems all the time.” “How are you so sure?” I asked. She smiled. That quiet, mother-knows-best smile that made me feel six years old again. “Because he loves you, Olivia. I’ve never seen a man love someone the way he loves you.”