The Marriage Cure Novels & Stories

Nonetheless, I needed to think of myself in this equation. The contract stated that our marriage would last exactly 24 months. As Mrs. Lan, I would have to live in his penthouse on Park Avenue… which wouldn't be a great sacrifice. I would also receive a monthly allowance to spend, so I could maintain my status as Aren Lan's rich wife. Actually, there were no bad conditions in that contract… That made me check the whole document again, more carefully this time. When I couldn't find anything disturbing after reading the contract three times, I slowly started to get used to this crazy idea of becoming his contracted second half.

I wished time could halt, granting us an eternity of joyous moments. When she hid, I sought. I vowed never to let her slip away again, not in this life or a million, billion, or gazillion years. My love for Aceia and our kids ran deep, and I pledged to give them everything the world had to offer. In this moment, the marriage that started as a deal had finally transformed into a union of genuine love.

I mutter, panicked and trembling as I gaze at the three blister packs, one of them half-empty, and the other two fully intact. Desperate, I lean against the vanity and slide down to sit on the floor. I close my eyes, tilting my head back, and tap it on the wooden door three times in a row, cursing myself with each tap. In that instant, I think about everything Gael and I have talked about over the months regarding marriage and children, at least not in the conventional way. He doesn't want kids or a wife. Damn! I mentally curse and start crying. How could I forget to take those damn pills? What a mess, Evy! And now, how is it going to be?

I smile back at her through the mirror, as she places the pretty, purple orchid among the neat up-do she’s given me. “Oh, sweetheart, marriage is about far more than just the vows. It’s about a love in your heart that overflows. It’s perseverance against all odds. Marriage is not easy. Especially, to a man like Manfred Valderrama.” She smiles and steps back so she can admire her work. “I do love him, you know. We aren’t just getting married because of the baby.” I stroke my bump affectionately, it’s too big to hide now and sticks out rather prominently from the white dress Manfred had shipped over, with the rest of the supplies from the mainland.

A friendly personality, always smiling—that figure was no longer to be found by her. There was only a cold, untouchable, and rough figure that she now encountered—a figure who desperately wanted to make her suffer continuously. Her heart could not lie that there was still a tiny spark of feeling that might continuously grow if she stayed with the man. Tears flowed down her cheeks, which she instantly wiped away. "Renata... where are you," Melvin mumbled in his sleep, making her tears instantly flow uncontrollably again. She had never imagined that the man forced her to marry him simply because his lover had left a week before the wedding. She had not imagined that there was a third person in

I received it with utmost courage that I have gathered with all my inner strength. "Good evening Ms. Sanchez." "Good evening, Sir." "I have received your email and I am beyond glad of your decision. Still, I wanted to hear it directly from you to have something I could hold unto." "I confirm what I just emailed, Sir." I breathed in and out deeply. This is my final decision. "I accept the marriage." 🔸🔸🔸 Sometimes, all we want is to be freed from cruelty and sadness. The solution might not be so heroic like those progatonists we see in movies. But is it so greedy if we just want to taste luxury even once in our life? 🖤🖤

“I remember. You said you believe it was what helped you conceive immediately after marriage. To… adjust. After the wedding?” I winced slightly at the words, though they were true. “Yes. It wasn’t just for… intimacy, though. It was more than that. It helped me heal, both physically and emotionally. It allowed me to take in everything that came with marrying someone I barely knew, someone who didn’t treat me the way I expected.” She raised an eyebrow, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the armrest. “Wait, you mean it is not a fertility drink?”

i muttered, clinking my glass to his in a bitter toast. “Is that so?” He chuckled, his gaze soft and unintrusive. “Not... not all, maybe,” i admitted reluctantly. “But the kind I keep meeting? Yeah. Definitely trash.” I laughed, though there was no humor in my voice. I had been talking too much, I know, but it was as if once I start, there is no stopping. “Seven years of marriage,” i continued, shaking my head, “Gone in an instant, and for what? A spark with an old lover, my stepsister!” I looked away, focusing on the golden lights. “Turns out I was... disposable.”

"That corpse shook him up so badly that he developed a fear of physical contact. He locked himself away for six months. I found a drug to help him manage it, did everything I could as his psychiatrist and his friend." Then, in a quieter voice, he added, "But I think marrying you was the best thing he ever did. You're his cure. You saw what happened—when you're around, he doesn't even need the drug." Huh?

I just never thought they’d come true. And marrying Logan Grey—that’s a whole different thing altogether. I mean, when we started planning the wedding, I was so overwhelmed. There were just so many details, and so many decisions, and with everything I’ve been through, I just didn’t have the energy to care about floral arrangements or seating charts. So, I let Logan decide most of it. I trusted him. He’s so steady, so sure of himself, and he just knew what would make the day perfect. I let him take the reins because I couldn’t think beyond the fact that I was actually getting married—again. We got married a year after the LDS cure was released. It was this huge turning point in everyone’s liv