Naruto's Wife Novels & Stories

Riko nodded to her son. “I, Hibiki Ryū Konishi, take you Yūri Aiko Hatake, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part." Hibiki smiled, holding my hands in his. “The rings.” Riko nodded at her husband.

Just Andrea. Not the wife. Not the architect. Not the woman who always smiled. Just the woman who waited. And was slowly growing tired of waiting.

" Wait!! Well... She is my... Wife. " " WHAT ???? Are you mad?? " " No, but getting there very soon. " " Mohit, I am not in the mood for riddles." " She is Srusti Mohit Paul. My wife already." " How?? When did you get married ?? Why didn't you tell us?? Manu is your best friend, you didn't even tell her. "

“After all, I’m still his wife. I need to take care of him.” As the words fell, it was as if the air had been sucked from the room. Elias stared silently at the tabletop, his fingers tightening into fists, the knuckles whitening. But his face showed no emotion—he simply gave a slight nod, as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. Only his heart, deep inside, twisted and tore, aching with a dull, slow agony. He knew—he had no claim on her. No right to ask anything of her. All he could do was sit there, listening to her tell him herself: she was at another man’s side, day after day, without complaint.

“Don’t lay your hand on her again, little sister. Do you hear me? Narra is my wife, and I will handle my marriage with her the way I want.” “I see,” she scoffed. “If she doesn’t raise our parents from the dead, she will join them,” she huffed before she walked away.

“You should have thought about that before accepting to be my wife. I actually don't know why I'm having this conversation with you.” “Then it's futile.” “Yes, you're coming with me because you're my wife!” He snapped. “I'm only your wife by title, maybe I should remind you of that.” It was after she spoke she realized everything, she didn't understand what came over her but she apparently knew she was infuriated by his guts. Perhaps it was because of the stress. She wasn't sure. “For that alone you have no right to go against my words. Do you understand?” Charlene gazed intently into his eyes, she didn't know if she was to say another word or kept silent. “Good.”

Birthdays, arguments, and the sound of her mother singing softly while cooking dinner late at night. The memories followed her all the way to the front door. Eventually, Selena pushed it open and stepped inside. Voices drifted faintly from the living room. Then she saw them. Sophia lounged comfortably across the sofa wearing silk loungewear with designer heels dangling carelessly from one foot. Beside her sat her husband, Ethan Carter, one arm stretched lazily along the back of the couch while the other scrolled through messages on his phone. The sight twisted something sharp inside Selena’s chest.

"Of course not!" I sat down. It was almost funny, attending my own wife's wedding and whatnot. I started looking around. Before long, the older woman beside me struck up a conversation. "Those two look perfect together, don't they? It wasn't easy for them to get married." I gritted my teeth, but the bitterness still came. "What made it hard?"

My father nodded. "I know this will likely not be part of the questions but let's see if you know. In the early period of Japan, it's known that the lords have multiple wives to secure an heir. But for Oda Nobunaga, he only had one wife. Who was she?" My father looked at me with a smile on his face. It's the first time I heard that Nobunaga had a wife. I didn't pay much attention to his personal life. I looked at my father and shook my head. "I-I don't know, father." I answered honestly. My father put his hand on my head.

The man looks at Max, “We didn’t get any information on your wife for the auction. Lisa has a moment, if we hurry, we can get the form all filled out for the auctioneer to read.” Max puts an arm around my waist and kisses the side of my head before telling the man, “Mr. Brahm, I cannot auction off my wife. We have only been married for a few months and have yet to spend an evening apart. Perhaps next year.” “Nonsense, it is tradition. Besides, it is for a good cause,” The man replies. He signals to a woman speaking to another couple near us. “This is my wife, Lisa. Darling, this is Mrs. Sturgis,” He says.