Novel & Cerita The Wife He Never Chose

He doesn’t even look at it again. “No,” he says. “I’m not.” I blink. “You’re not?” He turns fully toward me now. “I’m here. With my wife.” The words hit me harder than they should. Your wife. I let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Wow. You don’t understand what you just did, do you?” He frowns. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” I say softly, “you just chose me without thinking about it.”

He looked at me with a rare indecision, like cracks were appearing, and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do. He was finally discovering that his wife’s past life was actually a brutal story filled with suffering, that he had never bothered to learn about.

His fingers sink inside me, finding my clit, rolling it hard as I grind against him. We break with our release, collapsing in sweat and breath. My body sprawls across his chest, unbound. I whisper, quiet. “Where’s your wife?” The air stills. He’s silent for a long time before answering. “I never had one. She was just a wife of convenience. Papers signed. Nothing more. You were the only one I wanted.” My breath snags. My lips part. The words gut me in half. Twisted irony. He was never hers and was always mine.

“I’ve already given you enough time to cool down. Stop this at once!” Cool down, like my entire life hadn’t been destroyed. Before I could answer, one of the officials stepped outside the hall. “All candidates, please proceed inside.” “Get your fucking hands off me,” I tried to pull back, but Rick yanked me to himself. “You’re not going in there. You're coming with me. You don’t belong here anymore.” My chest tightened violently. Then he said the one thing that finally killed every remaining feeling I had left for him. “You’re my wife,” he snapped quietly. “I decide your future.”

The look of the man who thinks you belong to him. And the one you fabricate when you decide it will be the opposite. Since that day, I decided: I will never be chosen again. I will be the one you cannot leave. Clara thinks she can scare me with her looks and her silence. She thinks her role as "legitimate wife" still gives her an advantage. But she forgets one thing: men don't leave their wives for another woman. They leave their wives because they no longer recognize themselves in their life. And me, I am the life he never had.

The warmth in my chest became something heavier. “And if I don't choose you?” His eyes stayed on mine. “It'll hurt.” The honesty of it caught me off guard. “But I'll accept it,” he added. “Because if I'm asking you to choose me, then I have to accept that you get to choose something else.” I looked away toward the city. The lights below blurred slightly. For years, apparently, this man had been my husband. I had loved him. He hadn't loved me and then we'd divorced.

He paused, his gaze sweeping across us. "I will never divorce my wife. My wife has never cheated on me, and the 'evidence' you are so proud of is nothing more than a pathetic misunderstanding. What happened was a misunderstanding, one I have already investigated myself. And I do not care for the 'prestige' of a title if it means sacrificing the woman I have chosen.”

Beside her, Adrian showed no visible reaction whatsoever, as though being interrogated at dinner was a completely normal part of his routine. William shook his head lightly. “When I proposed to my wife, I spent three entire weekends following her through boutiques pretending to have opinions about lace.” “You complained the entire time,” Evelyn corrected calmly before taking another sip of wine. “That’s not the point.” “It seems very relevant to the point.” Selena bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. Somehow, hearing William Kingston casually talk about arguing with his wife over wedding dresses felt surreal. This was still the same man capable of making half the countr

Henrik stood perfectly still, letting her set the pace. "We both nearly died," she continued, looking at the steam rising from her coffee. "He woke up in the hospital, soaked in guilt, and proposed a month later. I thought gratitude could turn into love. It didn't. I lost my career to the nerve damage, and he spent five years using my hand as a convenient excuse for why our marriage was hollow, when the truth was he simply never loved me." The silence that followed was heavy. Naomi braced herself for the pity she was so accustomed to receiving.

The two of them, laughing and chasing each other through the shallows anyone glancing over would've assumed they were a couple deeply, easily in love. Eleanor had never once seen that side of him. This playful, unguarded version. Three years married, and their whole interaction had somehow narrowed down to a bedroom. Was that on her? Too dull, too boring to bring out anything more? Or was it simpler than that he'd just never loved her. She let out a quiet breath and turned away. That evening's program was a formal dance. Eleanor hadn't packed anything new just the same dress from the annual gala. Not the original three-million-dollar Solene piece. Whitney had ruined that one with wine, stain