The Man I Married Novels & Stories

Sitting inside the car parked in front of the civil registry office, holding her marriage certificate, Alexa still could not believe it. She was truly married to Devan, a man eleven years older than her. Without her father’s knowledge, and without anyone else knowing. “From now on, you are my wife, and also my spokesperson when meeting clients.” That firm, deep voice pierced her ears. When Alexa turned her head to look at Devan, she could only nod slowly. “Do you need me to take you home to pack your things?”

The man chuckled and put the cigarette back, "Actually, I don't smoke much either. It's mainly because I'm afraid of not having any topics to talk about when approaching people." Russell didn't quite understand because he didn't need to strike up a conversation with others at all; it was always others who approached him. The man said, "I have been watching you for a while. It's scorching hot and you're still holding hands with your wife. Did you just get married?" Russell pursed his lips, actually, just got divorced. However, he still nodded. The man said, "Your wife is quite beautiful, just a little bit less than my wife."

My hand paused before I opened it. Something about it felt different. I pulled it out slowly, and my breath stopped completely. It was me again, but something was written on the back in neat black ink. I flipped it over and read it. “The woman I’ll marry.” WHAT! My heart dropped. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. What? My fingers tightened so hard the paper almost bent. “No… that’s not possible.” I shook my head. “No, no, no.” This didn’t make sense, none of it made sense.

My skin burned, but the woman in front of me had hurt me far worse. I wondered, 'Why would she lie to me if she no longer loves me? Did she think I deserved this treatment just because I was a complete doormat in the past? Or is she just worried she's going to lose her free maid and a useful tool to make herself look good in front of her friends?' I looked at her and let out an icy laugh. Then, I asked her, deliberately enunciating each word slowly and clearly, "Did we really get married? Am I really listed as your spouse on your wedding certificate?"

I answered questions directly, without excess, without closing anything off. Where did you meet? His lecture hall. We disagreed about something. About what? Whether love was real. Laughter around the table. And who won? I looked at Adrian across the table. He was already looking at me. “The argument is ongoing,” I said. Warmer laughter this time. It was after the main course when it happened. A man to my left. Broad shoulders. The confidence of someone accustomed to being the most important person in a room. “I will be direct,” he said. “There have been suggestions. That this marriage was convenient. Professionally motivated.” He held my gaze. “What do you bring to this marriage Elena? Beyon

A flash of humiliation crossed his face. "Fallen for you? How could I possibly fall for you? Let me tell you, in this life, the next life, and every life after that, I would never fall for a boring, old woman like you." Calla had known this all along. Grayson had only married her because of their engagement. It had been an obligation, nothing more. He had never liked her. Since their childhood, he had only been bound to her by the so-called marriage arrangement. Calla smiled faintly and made a gesture inviting him to leave. "In that case, who I marry has nothing to do with you. Please leave and stop disrupting my life. Otherwise, I'll call the police.

Marinos don't get what they want by asking. "I can't—" It was out before I had it. "I'm married. I got married. So I can't marry Bellini." Four words in and I could hear how thin it was. I kept going anyway, because the alternative was the car downstairs. Bruno's chin came up. "Married," he said. "Married within a day. Who is your husband — him?" He was looking past me. I turned. There was a man standing behind me. Shirt open all the way down. A white square of bandage at his shoulder.

The whole world had watched my marriage come apart, and his first instruction to me was to keep quiet about it. "Tonight," he said again, and the line went dead. I lowered the phone slowly. I wasn't shaking. I had expected to shake, or cry, or want to throw something. Instead I felt cold and very clear, and that frightened me more than tears would have. He hadn't even sounded surprised. He had sounded like a man rescheduling a meeting. I sat back down and opened the laptop, though I had promised myself I wouldn't. The photographs were still there. The woman I didn't know. Daniel in a dark suit, smiling.

On my wedding day, explicit photos of me with multiple unknown women suddenly surface. My fiancee, Mildred Gibson, takes my stepbrother Oliver Shaw by the hand and announces that he will be taking my place as the groom. But Mildred's aunt, Daphne Gibson, arrives with millions of dollars, determined to marry me—the man everyone condemns as a cheater. Daphne's unwavering pursuit eventually wins me over, and I marry her. Then, a car accident shatters my spine, leaving me at risk of spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair. The doctors ask my family to sign the surgical consent forms. But my wife, Daphne, places a transfer agreement in front of me. She demands that I sign over my c

I asked. Dominic loosened his tie. "About what?" "About someone in this mansion being dangerous." He approached me. "I don't know. But I won't dismiss his warning." I turned toward him. "What if he thinks I'm involved?" Dominic gently held my shoulders. "Then he's wrong." "You sound very certain." "Because I know the woman I married." His words brought an unexpected warmth to my chest. I lowered my gaze. "Sometimes I still can't believe we're married."