My Statue Husband Novels & Stories

I tell her. “Oh, my husband loves the way I am and wouldn’t trade it for anything in this world.” She got that right. "But on a more serious note, Cassian. What are you doing here?" she asks. “I didn’t think I needed a reason to come to the gallery.” "You don't, but you just got married. You're practically all the media has been talking about. It's not a good look that you're out and about without your wife," she explains. I walked over from the painting to where the sculptures were. One of her latest works caught my eye.

He shrugged and replied, "For whatever reason, I’m grateful you’re my wife now. I’m happy to be back here with you, Baby!" They stood across from the statue of Poseidon on his sea chariot, driven by Triton, then shared a sweet, dizzying kiss. William’s arm supported his wife’s back so she wouldn’t stumble—he knew exactly how their kisses affected her. "Tonight is beautiful because you’re here with me, Emmy. I hope this happiness stays with us forever in our marriage. Promise me you’ll always be honest when facing any problem—I’ll always help you with all my strength as your husband!" William said, and Emmy nodded in response.

I should be given an award in endurance; in fact, there should be a statue of me located in Heald Square just next to George Washington, and it would be titled "For Your Enduring Spirit." Because here I was, standing in front of my husband, a title that would officially be his in 5 minutes if the damn priest would stop acting like a sloth. I ignored the words of admonition he was dishing out, choosing to focus on my man. Decked in a single-breasted beige suit from Husbands Paris, he was breathtaking. His hair had been pushed back, and with the undercut, he was lethal.

“But, how is it that you were married to her all these years and didn’t even know what she liked to eat? That’s pretty pathetic for a husband…” “Ex-husband,” Adam corrected with a smirk. “What about you?” I snapped, glaring at Arlington. “Your pathetic pining for my wife from a distance, for years, has clearly gotten you nowhere. Talk about pathetic…” Arlington froze for a moment before smiling politely. “Not so distant, I admit.” “You are not the father of my child,” I replied, stepping aside for a nurse who had come down the corridor. “And neither are you, Adam.” “You’re sure of that?” Adam asked, crossing his arms. “How many times have you slept with Alice over the years? A dozen? Less?”

Even then, he had stood beside me looking more like a stranger than my husband. Yet here, hanging on the wall, was a wedding portrait of him and another woman. Nearly seven feet by seven feet, framed in gold, placed directly across from the sofa. "Your home feels really cozy," I said, forcing a smile. She laughed. "I actually think the portrait's way too big. It's kind of tacky. But my husband insisted on hanging it. He said he wanted everyone who walked in to know I was his wife." "He… treats you well."

"Don't forget, under the law, adultery and having children outside the marriage aren't automatic grounds for a divorce. "As long as I refuse to agree, you won't be able to divorce me. I'll drag this out for as long as it takes. I'll make sure you're stuck with me as your husband for the rest of your life." Then he finally revealed what he really wanted. "Of course, if you insist on getting divorced, that's fine. But I want half of the marital assets. Otherwise, there's nothing to discuss." Looking at the ugly expression on his face, I let out a quiet sigh.

She walked up to a table and took a seat beside a couple in their late fifties. “I haven't seen Mr Sullivan around,” His wife said while looking around. “Richard Sullivan?” The wife nodded. “Yes, he'll be given a speech but why isn't he around yet?” “Probably he's in any of the rooms upstairs. I want to use the restroom, I'll be right back.” The husband said and pecked his wife's cheek before heading to the restroom.

Although her look is totally different, something about her reminds me of Drea. Then she gestures to the man walking up behind her. He’s also tall, about 6’ 3” with black curly hair and warm ochre skin. “This is my husband Silas,” she says with a hint of disdain in her voice. I hope they aren’t fighting and about to make this showing super awkward.

It is adorned with an arched ceiling made of red bricks that supports a couple of chandeliers. She smiled when she recalled how he greeted her full of love. God must have blessed her life after the misery she had suffered from Kalantiaw. This man in front of her is the exact opposite of her late husband. Estefan is the definition of a gentleman. Some folks wear a smile, this guy was the smile, everything about him was a soft and understated loving husband figure. Although she is also scared, what if none of this is real? or what if he is not that perfect, will she be disappointed at the end?

Who is this guy? “Of course! I've heard a lot about your admirable character and absolute servitude to your people. Although, what I find most admirable, is your devotion to your husband, Lucian Remus. Your relationship with him is the perfect example of an outstanding marriage and balance between you two. I love how your marriage gives hope to others, especially your people when it comes to mates. Not everyone finds their mates these days and you’re the example of “happiness without a mate,” he explained further and it made my stomach churn. If only he knew what was going on behind the spotlights. But something told me that this man knew more than he was letting on.