Neglected Housewife Novels & Stories

Stop spouting nonsense, I wasn't talking to you nefarious woman" Mr Arnold interrupted his wife's words. "Dad, please calm down, mum is right, I just have to get married to Zain, I have no choice. Besides, I am pregnant with his child " Natasha responded in a pitiful tone. Mr Arnold got the shock of his life. He never thought that such a day would come. Mr Arnold felt his knees weak and before he knew it, he fell to the chair. So this girl actually went behind her sisters back and started messing with her man? How could I have been so blind not to see the kind of games these people were playing? All this happened under my own roof and I couldn't protect my child. So pure and innocent, yet na

Then they stopped at a bench. Alec snorted. “What? My mom was a housewife, and it can be a hard job, especially when you also have five kids.” “I’m not saying it isn’t . . . for most women. But the wives in this neighborhood don’t have regular housewife duties. Eight percent of them have maids. We saw that on Friday. One woman has a full-time nanny. Plus, most of the cars in this neighborhood are a minimum of fifty grand. They’re not lonely, they’re spoiled. Even Lana has a part-time nanny and a maid.”

After finishing the breakfast which was Irish potatoes, scrambled eggs, plantain and sausage, she sat down on the high kitchen chair as she look around and the kitchen, wanting to see something she could fix but found none. This is a new Mehr who would never pass a dirty place without coming back and cleaning it. Yeah, there is a maid but the woman doesn't do much as Mehr just wants everything to be burnishing around her house. She was so into her thoughts that she didn't notice the house help walking in. "Good morning maman Farid," the woman in her mid thirties and also a divorcée greeted Mehr.

Morning light spilled across his back, highlighting the lean strength there, the casual intimacy of the domestic scene almost surreal. Who would think the heir of the Hardy empire would be running around in the kitchen making breakfast for her? The man who commanded boardrooms and silenced rooms with a glance was currently debating the consistency of eggs. She leaned against the doorpost and watched him quietly, not wanting to interrupt the rare softness of the moment. “Where is Martha?” she finally spoke up, inquiring about their housekeeper. “I sent her away for the day. We’ll manage,” he finished, not looking up yet, flipping the eggs with concentration.

Not even a goddamn bouquet of flowers or a branded box. When they drove off, I followed….my pulse in my ears. And then… I saw it. Her house. Small. White paint peeling. Porch swing rusting on one side. A single AC unit shoved in a window. The yard was clean but unkempt, as if she did everything herself, without help. No gardener. No maid. No security. Not even a fence. I stared. Stared long and hard, my jaw locking tighter with every second. What. The. Hell.

And yet… Lara didn’t waver. To Lucas’s surprise, she played the role of the perfect wife too well. She cooked breakfast every morning and waited for him every night. She folded his clothes, ironed his shirts, even left little sticky notes by the fridge reminding him to eat, to take care, to rest. Lucas had assumed she’d hire a maid. He thought she’d be helpless with housework. After all, she was the only daughter of Manuel Guzman, a man who owned one of the most successful corporations in the country. Lara grew up in luxury. She was born into privilege. Untouched by real life.

Everyone had something to do except me. ‘The pitiful abondened wife,’ I heard them talk about me and their pity just made it all worse. Maggie cleaned the house each day, always scrubbing something, leaving the house abseptionally clean. The laundry was always done and folded, food cooked to perfection each day. Javiar was no less, the yard was always clean, and gorgoues. Then there was me.

"And? What about me being an heiress?" He looked uneasy, clutching his iPad. "Hmm.... You can't cook? I mean, conglomerate families have people to do things like that so basically, they don't have any survival skills such as cooking because they don't need it. Especially since you are Uncle Regan's wife and a Montreal.” I was amused by the child. I always like children but this kid in front of me really amuses me. "What about that?" "You are one of the most privileged and real elite women."

But just because of her this mistake it became a cunning and evil plotting place for Zen to trouble Karan. Even before this we tried to attack Dia thinking the company she was handling was hers but it turned out to be her bestfriends father and I guess she values that old man more than anything. She staying awake and reluctantly working hard got them out of that crisis which occured accidentally as we ployed their rivals. And now he is inside the jail, rotting in hell and thankfully he doesn't have any proof of us being involved in that. But the way she being far from her family and husband keeping her sacred relation on a thin thread helped them was commendable. While her husband turned out

Tears streamed down her face, as was her routine, and the door remained locked. "Young Mrs, please, dinner is ready," a maid implored, tapping gently on the door. However, her calls were met with silence, leaving her with a heavy-hearted sigh. This was a recurring scene within the mansion's walls. Natalia had never experienced true happiness since her marriage to Caleb. The union had been a tumultuous one, as her parents had taken away the one she truly loved. Tonight, she resolved to put an end to it all. In a moment of selfishness, she disregarded Adrain's feelings and focused solely on herself. Life had become meaningless to her.