The Other Wife Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Those two years when your legs were paralyzed—yes, I wasn’t by your side. But why? Because I was out finding a cure for you! “I went into the hottest deserts, battling sandstorms and blistering heat to find the plants needed for extracting those medicinal compounds. My team and I were nearly swallowed by quicksand. We faced storms that almost killed us. But I never backed down because I wanted you healed. I wanted the research to succeed more than anyone else. “And what about you? While I was risking my life for you, what were you up to? You were sleeping with my cousin. You hid it from me for two years! And you even used ‘business trips’ as an excuse to marry her in America!

"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?"

"Not when it came to you." The words hung between us, heavy with meaning I wasn't ready to unpack. "Where are you?" I asked. "Outside the restaurant. Watching your husband have dinner with another woman while you sit alone." A pause. "Come see for yourself, Aria. Stop letting him make you invisible." I looked at the files one more time, then at my wedding ring, a platinum band that had never felt like anything but a shackle. "Send me the address," I said.

The nurses' hushed conversation drifted to my ears. "How pitiful. You really have to be careful who you marry! Look at the other wife next door. She just has a shallow scratch on her foot, and the boss is beside himself with worry. Look at this woman. She's miscarrying, and her husband is nowhere to be found..." The anesthetic pulled me into thick darkness, letting me forget the piercing pain for a moment. However, for the hurt Dante caused me, not even powerful anesthesia could make me forget it. In my dreams, I seemed to return to that warm moment this morning.

My work badge, my access card, and even my personal mobile phone were all confiscated. If they were able to find even the slightest evidence, I would be grounded for life. I didn't know how I walked out of the company office building. I went home feeling dazed. When I opened the door, what I saw was just an empty apartment. There was a file on the empty table. It was a divorce agreement. I opened it with trembling hands. The agreement was pretty clear. My wife wanted to divorce me, and I was to leave with nothing. The reason for the divorce was that I was disloyal and made a terrible mistake that ruined the reputation of our family.

“You’ve given that man three years of your light, Evelyn. Let Paris be the place you remember who you were before him.” Before Khalid. Before the whirlwind romance at the Met Gala, before I’d quietly closed my design studio to become the wife who understood his late nights and global ambitions. Before Natasha returned and I became furniture in my own marriage. I looked across the studio to the small desk where my laptop sat. The manuscript file was open. *The Husband I Once Loved*. The title still made my stomach clench. Khalid had read the first seventy pages last night. The confrontation that followed had been brutal—his hurt, my exhaustion, the way his voice cracked when he asked if I rea

She felt a bit guilty but was too proud to admit it, especially after the snide remark from her mother, calling her a mistress disguised as a second wife. "Are you done with your call, Miss?" the therapist asked with a smile. Feby nodded quietly and returned to her seat. Her eyes began to close, but she could still hear the voices of the wealthy women in the room. "I don’t mind if my husband plays around with other women outside. As long as he comes home." "Really??" "Of course. Our husbands just think of those women as playthings." "Yeah, they wouldn’t marry them. That would be a loss, right?"

One of them was on and on about how his wife was so frustrating and he wanted to just get rid of her. “My wife is so stupid. She doesn’t even realize I have other side chicks.” Another one of them chuckled. “You’re so lucky.” Another man replied to him. “my wife is so crazy and she just found out about my other side chicks. Now she’s out to ruin my life. I feel like a crazy mess.” I was just staring at them with a frown plastered on my face. “What is she? Stupid? Do you have to remain faithful to her? If her ugly ass can’t satisfy you in bed, then you have to fill that gap with other hotter chicks .” he said then chugged down his glass.

She wasn't proud of what she had done and simply wanted to forget it. From that day forward, even after we got married, I have had the fantasy of watching my wife with another man. I seemed consumed by the thought of another man seeing Jill naked, then watching as she sucks his cock, as he eats her pussy and screws her in variety of positions. I want to see my wife turned on and taken by another man. I sometimes feel somewhat odd because of this fantasy, after all, a married woman should not be acting slutty. It's wrong, perverse. Maybe that's why I like the idea though. We've always led a very normal life, a little variety and spice, even naughtiness would liven things up.

I ask, stepping slightly to the side so I am no longer hidden behind Caleb's shoulder. The woman lets out a soft, mocking chuckle. "He hasn't told you about me? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Caleb always did like to bury things he couldn't handle." She looks back at Caleb, her expression softening into something desperate. "I'm Nancy, honey. I'm his wife."