Reluctant Wife Novels & Stories

A week ago, the news broke that I'd filed a lawsuit against my wife of more than 20 years, Hazel Cooper, the woman who had shared my bed and my life for over half my adulthood. From that moment on, I became the neighborhood's favorite villain. Everyone called me the heartless man who had climbed his way to success and abandoned his wife and child without remorse. In their eyes, Hazel was flawless. She'd married me when I was poor and struggling. She never complained, even when life was hard. She cared for my sickly mother until her final days. She raised our son almost entirely on her own and turned him into a top student, the kind every family boasted about.

There she was, frantically pulling her clothes back on. The woman I had sworn to love for the rest of my life, my wife, Ysabel Walter. Her hair was a mess, and her cheeks still flushed. The designer heels I’d bought her were tossed aside like garbage. Her clothes were in disarray, baring a glimpse of those unfamiliar lace panties. “Ysabel, come out here and explain.” My voice was unusually cold. Her face was drained of color. Her hands trembled as she straightened her clothes, standing up slowly from the bushes and unable to meet my gaze.

"Keep supporting your future husband? Keep helping our family build something?" Our family. As if this business was shared. As if he'd ever included me in a single decision. "It's not our business," I said quietly. "It's yours." The air between us changed. I watched his jaw tighten. Watched his fingers flex around the beer bottle. For one raw, unguarded second, Adrian Vale looked exactly like the man I knew he really was. Entitled. Angry. Unaccustomed to being told no. Then the mask slid back into place—smooth, practiced, seamless.

Just enough. Elena pushed the contract towards him. “My mother first.” “Tonight,” he said. “And I’m not your toy.” His gaze lifted to hers. Dark. Steady. Close enough now that she could see a faint scar cutting through one eyebrow. “No,” he said. “You’re my wife.” The word hit harder than it should have. Wife. Her pulse stumbled. Adrian held out his hand, then paused. “May I?” The question was quiet. Almost private.

However, the whole scene is quite complicated because, either way, I was living evidence of the reason she called off her marriage. “You won't understand, and I don't have the grace to explain any of that to you at the moment.” I spilled a little, but not too much. Valerie was always emotionally dependent on her own truth and thoughts. It was a mission to always change her mind about things. She held my wrist, "Why did you marry him?” I turned back, and I had no words for her. "I saw my friend missing out on a big one, a big fish while she was trying to save herself.”

"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?"

Her pearly white teeth gently bit her lower lip, indicating that Natash was clearly upset with me. I lowered my head slightly, whispering, "Are you still sulking with me over such a trivial matter? Besides, I already apologized over the phone, right?" Suddenly, Natash·Yael opened her eyes, and the sharpness in her gaze caught me off guard. "Jaclyn·Dills, our marriage may have started with our parents' wishes. If you are unwilling, if you don't like me, it's understandable. But later, I gave you a chance. Why did you bother to bring me back? Am I just a tasteless but reluctantly kept piece of chicken in your eyes? If you consider me your wife, shouldn't you show basic respect? Before getting

Eleanor persisted, her defiance unwavering as she met her husband's gaze head-on, her chin tilting defiantly. "No, you're not a slave," Kayden conceded, his voice steady, yet tinged with an undercurrent of pleading. "You're my wife, and I want you to dance with me, not on my fingers. Come on," he implored, extending his hand toward her with a gentle yet insistent gesture.

Or was it what I said that triggered her? “I'm sorry, I only wanted to know what happened. I just want to be carried along. I'm your wife.” She wasn't so confident when she claimed to be my wife, it was as if she just said it reluctantly.

" Look, my wife is my wife and our of whatever gimmicks you're planning. If you want to have an altercation with me, you face me and me alone. My wife is off limits. Don't you get that?" " She didn't say that to me though. What can you do about that now?"