Please Marry Me With Divorce In Mind Novels & Stories

The one she married in the past is obedient and patient. ‘What if I didn’t divorce her? Would she talk back and often give reasons to me?’

She had to remind herself of that. Beside her, Caleb looked reassuringly calm, his presence was like a steady anchor in the storm of her mind. "You ready?" he asked, his voice gentle. Jane nodded, though her hands trembled slightly. They walked together to the clerk's office, where the marriage certificate awaited. Jane hesitated before signing, the weight of the divorce papers she had signed earlier still fresh in her mind. She had once loved Marcus deeply, and believed in their future together. But the betrayal—the sting of finding him with her cousin Abby—was a wound that had yet to fully heal.

“I’ll consider it, but I need more details before I agree to anything.” The CEO smiled faintly, nodding in approval. “That’s exactly the kind of spirit I’m looking for.” “Life is misery, and when it presents us with misfortune, it’s our duty to adjust our plans and minds. Let me get straight to the point. One of my sons is in a coma right now. It’s a secret no one knows. He and his girlfriend were in an accident—she died, leaving behind a baby just about two months old. This is the deal: I want you to name whatever amount you desire as your monthly payment, get married to my son for a year, and care for the baby. At the end of this contract marriage, you can leave. By then, my grandson will

I held the microphone, my voice echoing throughout the place. The people around us murmured among themselves, and Celia's face showed a fleeting moment of embarrassment. "Zane, stop it. It’s our wedding today." "You’re realizing that now? I don't want to marry you anymore. You're free. Go marry whoever you want." After saying that, I looked at Shane. "Shane, congratulations, you’ve won. I don't want this woman anymore. I wish you a happy marriage and many children." Of course, I did it on purpose.

I was Damian Valenti’s legal wife. But to the rest of New York, Sofia Bellini was the woman he planned to marry—and I was the pregnant mistress who refused to let him go. Damian said it was only for show. Sofia’s husband had died saving his life, and he had promised to protect her. She needed the wedding and the title of Donna. I already had what mattered: his love, his fortune, and our real marriage. At least, that was what Damian believed. He was so certain I would understand that he spent our seventh anniversary helping Sofia choose her wedding dress. He never noticed that I was in the fitting room beside them, wearing the dress he had once promised to see me in. As Sofia admired herself

"First of all, dear wife, I am not your husband. A marriage intended for divorce in the future is not a marriage at all; we had that silly ceremony because it's necessary. Second of all, if you have a very functional memory, you were my secretary and the month isn't over yet. So your salary isn't paid yet. Nothing has changed and that clause remains: I don't link my personal life to my work life." My smirk widened and I stalked to him, my heels making their usual outrageous sound. "But," I purred scathingly and batted my eyelashes, feigning innocence. "Dearest husband-" I didn't fail to enunciate on the word "Your loveliest and dearest wife still has your, ahem, credit card." Which she has n

She couldn't figure out how to reply to her. Ivy chortled. She continued, "In case you need a reminder, Miss Mirabel. I am legally married to Mr. Dillon Long and if you wish to get married to him. Then you need to get him to divorce me first," Her voice was clear and stern. She moved her mouth close to her ear and mumbled, " Don't play dirty games with me again, Mirabel. I won't sit back and watch you humiliate me any longer." She smiled brightly at her and strolled upstairs into her bedroom. Mirabel's face had reddened out of shame and fury. She sent punches into the air and stomped her feet into the house madly.

I reply coolly. His eyes flick over my face, reading more than I want him to. “I was under the impression you two were still attached at the hip,” he says smoothly. “Married last I heard.” The word married lands heavy between us and something in my chest twists. “We are divorced,” I say flatly. His eyebrows lift slightly not in shock but more like interest. “Is that so,” he murmurs. “That is unfortunate.” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “For who?”

For eighteen years, my wife, Elizabeth Connerty, never once reached out to her first love, Lucas Ryder. She committed herself fully to me and cooked warm meals for me. She attended every parent-teacher conference for our daughter. She carefully planned our family trips year after year. That was how we lived—quietly, steadily, and happily—for eighteen years. But after our daughter celebrated her eighteenth birthday, I turned to Elizabeth and said, "Let's get a divorce." She stood in the doorway of our daughter's bedroom, staring at me in stunned silence. I added calmly, "When our daughter was born, you promised me that once she turned eighteen, we would divorce."

said Aria, looking down to hide the pain that seemed to be slowly killing her. "But before that, shouldn't you also think about your family." For the second time Aria looked up. Jayden looked confused. What does that man mean? "If we divorce now, they will lose everything because your father's business is now under my company," Jayden said, immediately making Aria flinch. Jayden put on his jacket as he approached Aria's bed again. Bending down slightly so that his face was right in front of Aria's face. "And one more thing, doesn't your father have a history of quite serious heart disease?" Jayden asked playing his main card. "Can he bear to hear the news that his beloved child who has just