The Ultimate Husband Novels & Stories

His voice was a low growl, barely audible. “You’re mine, Elena,” he said quietly, as if making a promise to himself. “And I swear… no one’s ever touching you again.” Outside, the world kept spinning, blind to the truth. Reporters fought for front row positions outside the estate’s gates, drones hovered over the perimeter, and the name Thorne trended worldwide with hashtags of mourning and conspiracy. But inside, the “dead” husband and wife lay side by side in the quiet safety of the estate’s medical wing, one watching, one still trapped in darkness.

“Maybe two.” I swatted his arm, grinning. “Then it’s a good thing we have a village. Because we’ll need one.” He glanced toward Ezra and Olivia. “I suspect part of that village is about to be pretty occupied.” I laughed softly. “We’ll manage.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine, his voice low, full of certainty that vibrated through my chest. “I love you, Scarlett Rosenthal.” I smiled against his mouth, heart overflowing. “And I love you, my husband. Forever and always.” THE END.

"Tsk, tsk! She has such an amazing husband, yet she doesn't cherish him. Faking her husband's death just for an idiot! How disgusting!" "You're right! Some people just don't cherish what they have. I've noticed since five years ago that something funny has been going on with her and that idiot." "I heard that idiot was a student that her husband sponsored. What a disgusting couple! This is how she repaid her husband?!" Henry looked at everyone, casting him condescending gazes and calling him an idiot. He suddenly lost it and yelled hysterically, "I'm not an idiot! Besides, my wife has long said that she wants to marry me!"

he said. "Thank you, Oliver." She slid into the passenger seat and clicked her seatbelt. Oliver watched her quietly, curiosity barely restrained in his eyes. Once the car merged onto the wide main drive, he finally exhaled. "So… he's really your husband? No—wait—you're his wife? As in… you're married? To Chris Slater?!" Adriana gave a simple, "Mhm. It's been five years." His mind felt scrambled, though he hadn't been drinking.

“But, how is it that you were married to her all these years and didn’t even know what she liked to eat? That’s pretty pathetic for a husband…” “Ex-husband,” Adam corrected with a smirk. “What about you?” I snapped, glaring at Arlington. “Your pathetic pining for my wife from a distance, for years, has clearly gotten you nowhere. Talk about pathetic…” Arlington froze for a moment before smiling politely. “Not so distant, I admit.” “You are not the father of my child,” I replied, stepping aside for a nurse who had come down the corridor. “And neither are you, Adam.” “You’re sure of that?” Adam asked, crossing his arms. “How many times have you slept with Alice over the years? A dozen? Less?”

My husband, Samuel Sullivan, has listed his home appliance repair services on a secondhand marketplace for five years. He charges one cent per job, and his service range is strictly limited to a single city, a single residential complex, and one specific address. His only customer is his ex-girlfriend, Willow Emerson. When her air conditioner filter needs replacing, he travels across half the city to disassemble and install it. When her bathroom lightbulb burns out, he heads out late at night, claiming he's going to buy cigarettes. I asked him about it once. He tells me a man must keep his word. He promised to look after her, and just because they broke up doesn't mean he can go back o

Lynette Kensington's rules took effect on the second day of our marriage. "Your monthly spending is capped at 2,000 dollars. For any single purchase over 100 dollars, photograph the receipt and send it to me for approval. It's not that I'm cheap. I'm helping you learn how to budget. You've never had any discipline with money," she claimed. I thought she had a point. So for three years, buying a single jacket meant budgeting for half the month, and replacing a pair of contact lenses meant waiting for her approval. Then, last month, I found a supplementary card statement tucked inside the pocket of her trench coat. The cardholder was Jayden Scott, her Administrative Director. The transact

Azzua recharged herself with steaming coffee. Mr. Azzua looked at his wife. The bitter sense of the load was sitting on her chest, choking his throat, making him swallow hard the lump that was forming in her heart. They had almost broken up back then when his wife learned about his involvement with Hellen. When the news about Hellen’s pregnancy reached her, it tore her into pieces. It took decades for Mr. Azzua to convince her not to end their beautiful love. She only had one demand, and that was that neither she nor her husband would ever see that bastard child. And that Mr. Azzua would cut off all his communication with his other woman. And the agreement lived up to the letter, but now the

I promise. Such was the will of a desperate husband, whose main agenda was to get back his woman. He was ready for anything that comes his way. As long as she would be his again. He will conquer the world if it pleases her. The golden question was, however, will she have him back?

Me: He used to like me every day My husband: not so cool My husband: When I return to Jakarta, I want to meet your supervisor Me: but he scolded me because his friend told me to Me: the original is good Me: now his appearance really changed My husband: you mean? My husband: turned into a handsome man? Me: yes, but you are more handsome My husband: is he married? Me: I don’t know ,, I forgot to ask earlier My husband: if we meet again later ask yes Me: I don't think so, I don't see her wearing a wedding ring on her finger My husband: tomorrow you will go to campus, ask to change the new supervisor with Mr. Galih Me: No way! My husband: the husband's orders should not be denied, remember ...