My Statue Husband Novels & Stories

“Who is your real wife, Gabriel?” ~ Gabriel blinked, as if the question punched the air out of him. “Celina,” he said softly, almost a plea. “Please, let’s not do this here.” She stepped back, her voice rising, shaky but firm. “Answer me!.” “I’m your husband,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “That’s the only truth that matters right now.” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not an answer, Gabriel. That’s a deflection. I’ve seen the photos. The gala. The magazine article. ‘Power couple,’ right? Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel Reyes.”

My body sees that jaw at that scale and responds with the same dumb, animal loyalty it’s had since we met, and the fact that I was fucked against the bathroom counter this morning while the coffee maker beeped and neither of us stopped to turn it off does absolutely nothing to diminish the reaction. Two years of marriage has not reduced the wanting even slightly, and the wanting is an inconvenience I stopped apologising for somewhere around month four. I pull into the shoulder lane and take a photo to send to Sienna. My husband is a building. ...he was always a building. But now corporations agree!!!

I stood paralyzed, watching my husband make a liar of himself in the glass, watching the reflection of the only man I had ever loved reduce our sacrament to a profanity in the next room. Five years ago, on our honeymoon in Capri, I had made the mistake of admiring a swimmer on the beach—a Greek statue come to life, bronzed and indifferent. Julian had seen the direction of my gaze. He had not spoken. He had simply risen, wrapped me in a shawl despite the heat, and carried me back to the villa.

"He should go ahead, why should I stop him if that is what he wants to do?" " Not that you can, we both know that you don't hold any power to stop him, so you can shed tears while he fuck someone else right in front of you, that is what I heard you are,a sculpture he placed there just so he could have someone at home, a figure head." "A sculpture? He told you that?" " He didn't need to, I have my source and..." " Your source? Are you perhaps fucking my husband? Because that is the only way you would know so much when others seem to know so little."

he snapped. “For your heir,” I corrected. “For your position. Never for me.” His eyes darkened. “You were my wife.” “And still,” I said, “you never chose me when it counted.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I don’t want a man who loves me after he loses me,” I continued. “I needed you when I was standing in front of you. Not now. Not like this.” His voice rose, control slipping. “You’re throwing everything away—for what? A quiet life? A man who doesn’t know what you are?”

Damian countered coldly. Caroline let out a heavy sigh, turning toward Ethan. "Ethan, your father is right. A wife is the reflection of her husband's devotion," she said softly, though her eyes subtly flickered over to Damian. "If a man fails to offer his wife the security she needs and does not cherish her properly, how can he expect her to blossom into her best self for him?" There was a strange undertone in her words, and for a long second, Damian’s eyes locked with Caroline's before he abruptly looked away.

She set it on the counter and stared at it. "I wanted him to be surprised, it was my birthday but still i wanted to surprise him" "He's an idiot," I said. It came out rough. "He's my husband." She laughed without humor. "That's the worst part." Husband. I grabbed the word and held it like a rope. Lucien's wife. You've sat at his table a hundred times. Look at the floor. Look at the damn floor. I looked at the floor. It lasted about four seconds.

My husband had gotten so fat and lazy he would not hold me anymore in the air hence making me desire for that young man. “My husband has gotten so fat his banana is buried, he can no longer fuck me properly whenever he is on top of me his huge pot belly makes me tired, he sweats on top of me a lot like we are doing wrestling, it is disgusting.” I told Celestine. She laughed. “Come on! You can tell him to go to the gym and work out.” Celestine told me. “My man has a huge ego you would never tell him anything.” I told Celestine.

He asked me. "No, my husband is not a coward. He is Roman Atono, the leader of Russia mafia along with my dad. I insisted that I come in first since I am part of the deal." I told him who my husband is. "I love the way you hyped him. I hope he worths it." He said. "He worths more than it. But this isn't a moment of personal discussion." I shrugged my shoulders. "Fine, let him in." He commanded.

Mari happily replied. Andrei stood up. "Wait for me here, I'll just buy something," he turned to Mari. "Okay, my love, be careful," Mari happily replied. Mari then followed Andrei's gaze as he walked away. They both burst out laughing when Andrei turned to where Mari was. "Silly boy, my husband is really funny!" Mari laughed and whispered to herself. Not long after Andrei bought bottled mineral and street foods, he returned to Mari. "Have I been back for a long time, my wife?" Andrei asked Mari sweetly when she returned to her wife's place.