The Marriage Cure Novels & Stories

[Olivia] It's been a chaotic week since the small parlor wedding that felt more like a joke. All my family was concerned about was to make sure we registered our marriage, which we had no option to do It's my third day as a married woman. I was still at my apartment but I was finally moving to Lucas's house today. I've been hesitant about moving, it didn't feel real, we've drafted our contract specifically including every detail that is supposed to keep the marriage going for six months which was the time limit I agreed on.

Chapter 166 — A Different Kind of Honeymoon Sunday morning sunlight filtered through the suite curtains, gently illuminating the rumpled sheets. They weren’t on a distant island or in an exotic destination; they had stayed in Montevideo, in the same hotel suite where they had gotten married. It had been a practical, unspoken decision: they didn’t want to travel far until they had the medical results, and they preferred to stay close to everything, just in case of an emergency.

She will never take her face to him without any reason. But now Charlotte forgot everything when she heard that Rex was having a headache. Now her husband's headache prevention had become bigger to her. After two strangers are bound in the sacred bond of marriage, they become one. One's pain makes the other's mind flutter. One wishes good for the other. This is a wonderful creation of God. Charlotte, meanwhile, felt that she had little respect for her husband's illness. She should give a massage to her husband. Charlotte came to their room behind Rex without a moment's delay, wondering who she would be arrogant with if the man was not healthy.

I cried until I had nothing left. The marriage was over. I was no longer Luca’s contractual partner. I was simply my parents' daughter again. I picked up my books and applied to medical school. Back then, to manage Luca’s allergies and stomach problems, I had learned many medicinal formulations. I never expected that to become the starting point of a remarkable talent. At medical school, I thrived. Before long, I was able to independently develop new compounds. My professors often held up my work and praised it. "Clara, you’re a natural pharmacologist."

She would lunge at anyone who dared say a word about me. She would stay by my side in silence, watching as I tended to my silly plants. She never once called it a waste of time. So, when she asked me if I wanted to marry her, I nodded. Thrilled, her parents started preparing for our wedding. On the other hand, I continued tending to my boring plants. By then, my condition had improved a lot. I could somewhat express how I felt. Yet, marriage was something I didn't understand. The doctor said it was when two people stayed together forever, and I thought it wouldn't be so bad if I were getting married to Penelope.

"Willow, I've been waiting for you for a long time." Out of nowhere, my nose started to sting and my eyes welled up with tears. I never imagined I would meet someone who looked at me like I was their whole world. And I certainly never thought that an arranged marriage would lead me to somewhere I felt safe and loved instead of completely miserable. When the officiant asked if I was willing to marry Nathan, I didn't hesitate. I nodded and said yes. The officiant joked, "The groom may be a powerhouse in the business world, but today he's a total softie!"

From the time I was 22 until I turned 30, Brianna Everly and I had a wedding every year. The only thing we never had was a marriage certificate. She said she was afraid of marriage, terrified that we'd end up like her parents. So I gave her eight years to prepare herself—until our eighth wedding, when Brianna showed up in the wrong wedding dress. It looked just like the wedding dress she'd always worn for our ceremonies, except for one detail. The name embroidered along the neckline wasn't mine. It was my best friend, Leon Stratford's. I was about to confront Brianna when my brother, Dominic Sterling, grabbed my arm. "Harrison, it's been eight years. What's the point of digging into it no

Six years into our marriage, I discover another woman on my husband, Simon Mercer's, phone. He isn't the one who shows her to me. While he's in the shower, an unknown number sends him an intimate photo. A woman in pajamas leans against his chest, flashing a peace sign at the camera. I pick up his phone and tap on the message. I scroll up and notice the chat history's been wiped clean. The entire chat box contains only this one photo. The contact is saved under a single letter, "L." He doesn't save her full name. There is no other information. However, it's evident that he's cheating on me.

My wife, Isabel Wilson, had slept with more than a thousand men, yet she still refused to divorce me. Her family called me a useless freeloader who did nothing but live off his wife. The first time I asked Isabel for a divorce was five years ago. She didn't say a word. She simply had me locked inside the house for an entire month. A month later, she threw a positive pregnancy test in my face. Three years ago, I asked for a divorce a second time. Isabel went straight back to her family's home that very night. Right after that, I was reduced to seeing my child once a week. Today was the third time. This time, I could finally be free because I realized that my child didn't love me, and my

I stumbled out of the hospital in a daze. The doctor had been smiling just moments ago, congratulating me on how healthy the baby was. Then, she casually asked, "When are you planning to register your marriage with the father?" I froze. I told her we had been married for five years. The doctor frowned and checked the system again. Finally, she turned the screen toward me. [Marriage Registration: None.] Five years ago, Enrico Salvatore slipped a ring onto my finger himself and told me all the paperwork had been taken care of. He said his position in the mafia made it inconvenient to go public.