The Wives He Forgot Novels & Stories

"Are you forgetting to ask permission from your dear husband?" His wife appears to have been absolutely stunned by his presence, but then again, she is good at hiding her emotions. She composed herself for a few seconds, then she sniggered at him as she stared into his eyes and said, "Oh, pity me; why the fuck do I need to ask permission? And why do I always seem to forget, Enzo, that I am already married? Even though I am wearing this stupid ring, I keep forgetting that I have a husband. But then again, how can I even remember him when all he does is drive me away?" He instructed her, "Let's talk."

Questions. But one thing was certain. I would not walk into that room as the forgotten wife. And judging by the way he had looked at me that morning… He knew it too.

Together, they had burned like summer lightning. But their marriage wasn't a fairytale. It was war in silk sheets. Love, in the Forger household, came with conditions. And when Kourtney refused to be molded into a corporate trophy wife, the fire between them turned to ash. She had left. Or maybe he had pushed her out. All she remembered was the silence that followed—the kind that clings for years. Until last week. Until the gala. Until the fire. Back in the hospital, her bandaged fingers curled around a paper cup of water as her heart echoed every footstep beyond her door.

Meanwhile Ethan barely looked up from his phone as he loosened his tie. “Traffic was insane,” he muttered. I stared at him, waiting for him to say something. Surely he remembered. Surely. Vivian shifted awkwardly beside him as he slowly looked up. His gaze followed hers toward the dining room, and I watched realization dawn across his face. He looked like he genuinely forgot, and it made my stomach drop. A strange ringing filled my ears. Seven years. Seven years together and he forgot our anniversary. Again. Not the first time.

I discovered something very strange about my marriage that morning. Apparently, husbands and wives in this house didn't behave like a married couple. They behaved like polite, distant roommates who occasionally shared a hallway. I stood in the corridor, staring at two separate heavy mahogany doors. My bedroom. Liam’s bedroom. Right next to each other. Completely separate. I frowned, taking a step forward and knocking on his door. No answer. I knocked again, louder this time. "Lee?"

"Sir, please! Mrs. Costello has just lost her child and has been running a fever. You'll only push her over the edge like this!" "Get out of the way!" Then, he turned to me, shouting, "Last warning—apologize to Emily!" I raised my head defiantly and glared into his eyes. "The biggest regret of my life was falling in love with you and marrying you, William!" After those words, the gun slipped from William's hand. He suddenly remembered I was his wife, the woman he had sworn to love forever. However, to cover up his lies, he had to continue his act in front of me despite his guilt. He ordered, "Lock her in the basement. No food or water until she apologizes!"

“You’ll be back in this chair. You’ll sit. You’ll listen. You’ll speak when spoken to. And you’ll remember who owns Cross Industries now.” Who owns me now, my brain supplied. Because that was the truth. Without the company, without the name, without the money… What was I? Just Adrian. Just a man who’d lost everything to the woman he’d lost five years ago. She picked up her tablet. Tucked it under her arm like it weighed nothing. Like my entire future weighed nothing. Turned. “Ethan, walk them out.” Then she walked. Heels clicking. Straight spine. No glance back. No hesitation. The door opened. Closed. And the jasmine faded with her, leaving behind only the smell of leather and defeat.

"Because I'm your wife." He wouldn't remember it the next day anyways

Adrian remained standing in the living room. Alone. Confused. And suddenly very aware that somewhere in the last three years, he had forgotten something important enough to help destroy his marriage. The worst part was not that he had forgotten. The worst part was realizing that the woman he had married no longer seemed surprised that he had.

He walked out of the boardroom first, and as he passed Nathan, he leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only Nathan to hear. "Ask your wife about her father's business partners from fifteen years ago," Marcus whispered. "You might find the answers more interesting than you expect." He walked away before Nathan could respond, leaving him standing there, confused and unsettled. Later that night, Nathan found Claire in the kitchen, sitting alone at the small table near the window, a cup of tea in front of her that had already gone cold. "Can I sit?" he asked. Claire looked up, surprised again by his presence.