The Wife Lament Novels & Stories

I made it clear to them—I didn’t want to hear anything about him. Maybe he’s enjoying his life now… now that our child is gone. Are you happy now? While I’m here… suffering. You should’ve taken me with you instead… --- “Maybe she’s a mistress? Not even one member of the husband’s family showed up.” “Are you serious? Look at how grand this wake is. Maybe they’re just busy, or we just didn’t see them.” “Poor baby… so handsome too.” “They’ll probably lose support money now that the baby is gone.”

I gestured with my hands, one above the other, "still beneath me." Elara glared at me, lost for words, and tears glistened in her eyes. But of course, I knew she was a scheming little rat, and was about to start her theatrics. I put my lipstick back into my clutch and walked past her, pausing briefly by her side. "Maybe instead of obsessing over my life, you should ponder on how to keep your own house in order. It would be a pity if you lost your grip on what little you’ve managed to grasp, especially with how quickly your husband tends to pick new wives after seven years of failing to provide an heir for him. But then, worrying about me must be far more interesting than facing your reality.

Laura quickly accepted the white oversized hoodie and draped it over her head so that it looked like a veil of some sort before turning to him. "We can't get married for real because marrying the dead is frowned upon but if you don't mind, we can exchange vows here and now. At the very least, we can be husband and wife for however long I have left before returning to the light." Tynan found it incredibly difficult to hold back tears and he might have let one or two slip past his defences as he searched up the wedding vows. The crappy hoodie didn't do her beauty any justice and Tynan wished he could afford something better than that. Nevertheless, they exchanged vows that night despite missin

"What is this? Mom, why are you suddenly so tolerant of that slut Emma? Who is your daughter?" Dexon looked at his wife who was walking out in a hurry with a puzzled expression. He frowned and said, "Walk slower. Did something happen?" "Let's talk in the car!" Minlan was nervous and excited at the moment. The joy of regaining what she had lost occupied her entire heart. She felt that she had to mention this matter to her husband. She had to find someone to vent the anxiety in her heart. Dexon sighed at his wife and could only accompany her into the car.

Maybe she tried to shrug off the feeling that she was anxious, however, he could vividly see through her. Her last sentence triggered his laughter, instead he chuckled. “Why do I have to apologize for hugging my wife? If there's anyone that has to apologize then it's you for not reciprocating my affection.” She dabbed her lashing multiple times. “I'm sorry. You're mistaken.”

Kaylar traced her fingertips lightly over the delicate petals, taking solace in their fragrance, as she prepared to give her husband the farewell he deserved. "Now we say goodbye to a man who was not only my husband but also my shield in this vast and unpredictable world," she began, her voice quivering with every word, Her almond-coloured eyes shimmered with unshed tears, yet they held a strength that belied her fragility. "Wayne was a pillar of steadfastness, a beacon of love that illuminated my life." As she spoke, the guests listened with bated breath, their gaze fixed upon the woman who encapsulated both vulnerability and indomitable strength. Her words resonated deep within their heart

"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?"

There was nothing else to say. The driver opened the door again. Rowan gestured. “After you.” She stepped in. As the car pulled away, Elara looked out the window and let the reality settle—not dramatically, not painfully. Just fully. She was officially his wife. Not because of love. Not because of fate. But because she had chosen this—with clarity, with control, with her eyes open. And the city did not pause to acknowledge it. Neither did she. They drove on, separate even now, bound by ink and law and silence.

Damian nodded. "What is the actress's name," he said. Gerald thought for a moment. "Graves something. Helena Graves." He picked up his fork. "Do you know her." Damian looked at his plate. "She is my wife," he said. The words came out before he had decided to say them. Not a correction exactly. Not the full truth either. Just the two words arriving in the space before he could stop them. Gerald looked at him with surprise and then with the warm interest of a man who had just discovered an unexpected connection. "You are serious. Helena Graves is your wife."

"I'm warning you." "Warning me?" She stepped closer, her face inches from mine. "You're warning me? I'm your wife, Damian. Your wife. I've given you three years of my life. My body. My time. My business connections. I've stood by you through everything—through the memory lapses, through the coldness, through the way you've been drifting away from me for months. And this is how you repay me? By fucking another man's wife in your grandmother's house?" A servant appeared in the doorway—a young woman in a gray uniform, her face pale with fear. "Ma'am? Is everything—"