Novel & Cerita The Wife Next Door

The neighbor, who had recently returned from another settlement, was utterly bewildered. "I don't even know who this Charlie is," he said, exasperated. Convinced I was hiding inside, the men barged past him, shoving their way into his home. The neighbor tried to stop them, but it was too late. "You people are unbelievable," he muttered. "You don't even know where your own friend lives, and now you're making a scene? Her husband's dead, for heaven's sake. The last time I saw her, she was dealing with a bunch of wedding stuff. Poor woman. She seemed really heartbroken, sorting through all those albums and wedding photos. You could tell how much she loved her husband. What a pity."

His gaze moved past me once again, scanning the living room as if expecting me to simply let him in. "I'd rather not have this conversation outside," he said, still holding the door as if leaving wasn’t an option. "Or do you have company?" His lips curved slightly, but there was something off about it. "My wife noticed we had a new neighbour. Thought I'd come say hello. Unless, of course, you're just passing through?" I folded my arms, letting him talk, all while wondering what he was really doing here. Now that his wife wasn't around, why was he acting so friendly?

"That's Chanel haute couture! It hasn't even dropped yet—I saw the sketches online!" "No way... that's gotta be the Loredan heiress!" Heads turned. Whispers flew. Even Jared looked. He couldn't not. The second Jared saw her face, he froze. Around him, the shock rippled. Joanne gasped, "Lucia?" Yep. It was her—the missing wife, back like a drop-the-mic moment. She didn't even notice them. Too busy on the phone. "I know, Mom. I just left the orphanage... Yeah, I've changed. I'm at the entrance now."

After playing at Lake Asborn, we went to a café not far from there, enjoying warm food and drinks. “Sir Monclaire, I didn’t expect you to live next door to Sandra.” The short-haired woman, I knew she was Cillian’s cousin. I responded coldly, giving a brief nod. “Our neighborhood really is very comfortable. That’s why I recommended Cillian live in this area,” she said casually, sipping her coffee. Her words were nothing more than a provocation aimed at me. I caught that sly little smile earlier, and after that, I looked at Cillian. He moved quickly, like a snake.

No man has ever managed to awaken the passionate side of me again. I just hope that when I’m old and gray, my daughter will finally forgive me. She’s the only one I have left, and I couldn’t even attend her wedding because I wasn’t invited. From what I know, she’s been married for almost a year now. I wonder how she’s doing. Is she pregnant already? I’d be so happy if she were. I turned my head when I heard someone greet me. It was one of my neighbors. I waved back and greeted her, too. She’s also a widow like me and lives alone. Actually, all of us living in this small area are widows, and our neighbors call our block the “Widows’ Web.” Whatever! They have no idea what we went through after

I can’t bear her hate towards me. "Wife please..." I pleaded. She did not answer me. She just turned away from me and went back to sleep. The bed is small just right for one person. I should have put a queen size bed instead. So that I can still sleep next to her whenever things like this happened. But no matter how small the bed were I still lay in the bed next to her. Mara faced me. Our faces are too close. I saw her eyes widen. “What do you think you are doing?” She hissed.

If Julian and his family hadn't turned it into this, this performance, this transaction, she probably would have agreed on her own. "I don't have the time. You clearly have the money. Hire a private nurse." She turned and walked away. Behind her, Diane's voice rang down the corridor, indignant. "Does that woman ever listen to a single word said to her? This family must be cursed eight lifetimes over to end up with a wife this heartless!" Eleanor didn't turn around, just walked faster, unaware Julian had started after her. He was a few strides from catching up when he stopped short.

Jacob knew this woman well, his next-door neighbour, otherwise known to him as 'that hot MILF next door'. "No? I see." She continued, taking Jacob's stunned silence as a response, "Well... Hi, I'm Mrs Harper. I'm your neighbour from next door. But I guess you already recognised me." Jacob stood awkwardly, unable to speak while his mind internally screamed to start working. "I promised your mother that I'd return this book. Do you mind if I come in?" Mrs Harper chuckled awkwardly as she waved a book at Jacob. "Yes!" Jacob exclaimed in agreement, albeit louder than he expected to, "Yes... Yeah, I know you, Hi"

The specific, hungry want of her wife’s taste, her wife’s surrender. The trip had been a much needed honeymoon.Two weeks in a remote luxury resort, a bubble of heat and cedar against the endless white. They’d arrived that afternoon, the tension a live wire between them from the moment the door clicked shut. A shared shower that was more tease than cleanse, a slow, deliberate unpacking where hands lingered on zippers and skin. They’d made it through an almost kiss and now it all came crashing out like a broken flood gate.

Whenever the sun went down, the wife would start moaning embarrassingly loudly. But it sounded like the couple next door was arguing tonight, and the fight was getting worse. In the end, the wife’s screams nearly deafened me. “Did someone die?” I cried out softly. The commotion next door suddenly died down. It was at this moment that I finally realized what had happened. The soundproofing was terrible, and they could hear all the noise I made too. ‘Oh no…’ My heart leaped to my throat. The strange silence lasted for about four seconds before I suddenly heard a piercing cry for help.