The Wife I Forgot To Love Novels & Stories

The truth belonged to only me. Her flowers had already wilted, but I still saw her face when I closed my eyes. My first and my only. The one mistake I’ll never forgive myself for. I told myself I’d stopped going. And yet, I stood there again today. With a fourth wife at my side, staring at a name that still knew how to cut me open. And then I kissed her. I kissed the new wife. The child my uncle forced into this madness. The scent of her skin clung to me even after she shoved me away. And instead of rage, all I felt was guilt. Because for one second, I forgot the only woman I was never supposed to forget. I forgot the ache I used to feel anytime I visited.

And he wasn’t the only person who would come for my throat and hers, if any of the photos and images got out. I was literally forced to apologize, and I still haven’t done it properly. “You are the worst type of man. A coward with nothing to his name. If your parents wanted too they could cut you out of their business because nothing you own is yours. You’ll be a loser with no wife, no money, and nobody who gives a fuck about you.” Her drink sloshes around in the small teacup she was holding on to tightly. Only a mad woman drinks whiskey in a teacup, and my wife is topping the charts of insanity.

“Always. You’re not alone in this. Remember that, okay? You have people who love you.” Sophia closed the door after Maya left and leaned against it for a long moment. The apartment felt quieter now. Emptier. But also a little lighter. She walked back to the couch and picked up her phone again. Adrian’s statement was still open on the screen. The screen had gone dark, so she tapped it. “I failed my wife. I failed her for five years…” She read it again. Slowly. Carefully. Word by word.

A Note From the Author Thank you, truly, for staying with Anita's story all the way to the end. When I started writing The Wife I Swore I'd Never Be, I knew I wanted to tell a story about memory, about the quiet violence of being controlled by someone who calls it love, and about what it actually takes to come back from that — not overnight, not through a single dramatic confrontation, but slowly, chapter by chapter, choice by choice. Anita's journey from a woman who couldn't remember her own life to a woman who finally, completely, knows exactly who she is was never meant to be fast. I hope, if nothing else, that the slowness of it felt honest.

For one foolish second. She hoped it was Michael Instead It was only a reminder about an afternoon patient. Her thumb hovered over the screen. The small spark inside her died before she could stop it. Jessica closed her eyes and laughed softly at herself. Even after everything, her fingers had reached for her phone before she remembered she was trying to forget him. She slipped the phone back into her pocket. "No more hoping," she whispered. "I have to stop." But deep inside... A quieter voice answered. If he walked through that hospital door right now...

Softly, she said, “Forget about Lucas for a moment, honey. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together. I want you.” Did she think I was such a base and uncouth man? How dare she try to charm me with her feminine wiles at that juncture? Scowling, I shook her off and kicked the living room door open with a loud bang. In an instant, the noisy mansion went deathly quiet. My younger sister, Alexa, who had been dancing with an old man I did not know, was the first to speak up. “Which rude heathen dares to kick our door open?” she burst out.

"To get my wife back." "Wrong answer." Lewis blinked. "Excuse me?" "You're not here to get your wife back." Dr. Walsh set down her pen. "You're here because you destroyed your marriage and you don't know how to live with that. Try again." "I failed her." "Closer. Keep going." "I made her invisible." The words came out flat. Factual. Like he was reading from a report. "Three years. I was right there and I made her disappear." Dr. Walsh wrote something. "How?"

The day I caught my husband, Damian Kettering, in bed with the daughter my biological parents had raised in my place, I slipped on the stairs and lost my baby. I nearly lost my life too. After that, Damian seemed to change completely. When I hit him, he didn't hit back. When I yelled at him, he didn't yell back. Even when I made him drink water out of the toilet, he only smiled at me with red-rimmed eyes and said, "As long as you're happy." Everyone around us told me the same thing. "Stop torturing him. He's practically giving you his life!" I believed them. Then, on my birthday, Damian came back from the restroom at dinner with a long strand of woman's hair clinging to his clothes. S

Five years into our marriage, I still hadn't gotten pregnant. The doctor said my fallopian tubes were blocked and that conceiving would be difficult. Even so, my husband, Lucas Enright, loved me with all his heart. Then, on our anniversary, he called and promised me a surprise I'd never forget. But when the estate gates swung open, a pregnant young woman stood outside. The smile froze on my face. Lucas didn't notice. He kissed the top of my head, beaming. "Freya, once we have this baby, the elders in my family will finally stop pressuring you about not having kids." When he saw how pale I was and noticed me trembling, he quickly pulled me into his arms. "Isabella is nothing more than a surro

After Dominic Hatch loses his memories, he refuses to believe that I'm his wife. "If you really are my wife, why is it that there aren't any photos of us together?" I explain to him that he doesn't like taking photos. That's why we didn't even have a wedding portrait of us. But soon, Dominic digs out nine thick and heavy photo albums from a hidden compartment in his safe. The main characters in those albums are him and another unfamiliar woman. There are countless photos documenting their journey—from they were still children to when they had completely grown up. The pure and innocence on their faces slowly give way to the sappy love and affection they have for each other. In fact, Domi