The Wives Novels & Stories

You are my wife, so just act as a wife should," he added, turning away from Safira and beginning to ascend the stairs. She can barely blink a few times in the meanwhile. What? is the role of wives? And what was that? She worked to process what her husband had said. Her eyebrows furrowed as her head tipped involuntarily. She did not grasp what her husband was trying to say. She is concerned that she may misunderstand her husband's statement that if she is not required to clean the house and assist with other activities, what is a wife to do?

Maribel sympathizing: "That's what wives do, Sera. As partners we help each other." Me, working double shifts, coming home exhausted to an empty apartment because Adrian was "working late." Again. Always. Maribel bringing wine and tissues, her arm around my shoulders. "He's just stressed, sweetie. You need to be more understanding. More supportive." The miscarriage. Twenty-eight years old, bleeding on the bathroom floor, screaming for Adrian who was three hours late. When he finally arrived, he helped me clean up couldn't even look at me, he'd stared at his phone instead of at me.

Alex smiled again, “Get my wife another card. Clearly she’s maxed the first one out.” Jillian Bedlam, Ramona Gianni and Emilia Cortez. The three wives of the prominent mafia bosses, with the exception of Cortez who wasn’t part of the union all sipped on their jasmine tea. Elegance, poise and grace clearly shown in these three women as they waited patiently for the latest addition to their clique. “She’s late.” Jillian commented bitterly with a scowl on her face, “Who does she think she is?” “Patience Jill.” Emilia chuckled softly as she bit into one of the crumpets on her saucer, “I’m pretty sure it’s traffic. You know these younglings and their incompetence when it comes to being punctual,

As I stood up myself, Aurora and Mariposa accosted me. Good Lord please restrain me from not killing these women. "And where do you think you are going to bitch?" Aurora snarled. "I am going far away from you and your badluck before it taints my life" I chuckled. A gasp left her lips. "Are you mad!? You this shameless whore!" Her outburst was attracting the stares of the other wives. "What is going on here?" A woman ambled in our direction. She was very pretty though. The prettiest of all here with her hazel eyes and curly brown hair.

Sakha returned to the field feeling still annoyed. He regretted having gone home earlier, even if only for a moment. Because his third wife, Nia, never stopped teasing him even though she knew that day was not her schedule. Sakha does not really like aggressive women and is always willing to interfere in his affairs. Nia knows that, not to interfere in Sakha’s business, even though they are husband and wife. The three wives of Sakha know this, but sometimes they often forget because they are controlled by their own feelings.

" Many wives would think that way. When their husbands were busy with their careers and did not have much time to spend with them, they would assume only money and success were their husbands’ priorities. However, when their husbands would stay home with them every day, they would start feeling irritated, and their husbands’ presence would get on their nerves. Women were truly complex and confusing creatures. "No." Paige shook her head. She would not dare to find him annoying. "I mean… won't people at your company comment that you're only interested in your beautiful wife and not the business?" Paige asked.

trophy wives" doesn't mean we've got to be actual wives. " "Very true," Clementine agreed, "I have sex with my husband once a year and that's simply because one of his mistresses fails to answer the phone, or we do so, simply for the fact that we should. I have a Mister or two who take care of my needs and that's that." "Wait," I held up my hands as I looked around the table, "you're telling me, you all have misters?" I asked them in surprise. They nodded, I mean even Emma and Emma's what? Twenty!

A little subtle sigh that indicates he is done. “Yeah, time to let off steam and go find a club. You guys coming?” Alexi invites the two, now less surly cousins, but the stricken look on the wives’ faces suggests they won’t be coming if they do fancy a night of fun. I get the impression women get left behind. Invitations stop at the men and they get no say. I can almost guarantee they are the type of wives who follow the Mafia mistress rule. Don’t mention them, don’t make a fuss and know that weekends are mistress days. Turn a blind eye and don’t get upset.

“Thomas, did you know why I agreed to hold the wedding with Alex? That’s because you’ve always been a pushover like you are now! You never act like a man! You always chose to back off during work and has never surpassed Alex! Even after work you act the same way. You never dared to anger me and even took the initiative to move out of your own house! You’re just a coward!” Before she could finish speaking, a lazy woman’s voice sounded at the door. “Thomas, are you done packing yet? The MPV’s still waiting outside!”

The chicken hopped around for a moment before dropping a steaming pile of poop onto my custom-made designer couch. Then it took off racing around the living room, scattering feathers and dust everywhere. That was the last straw. I pointed at the two women, my voice shaking with rage. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Get out!" Martha Wilson showed no sign of remorse. Instead, she planted her hands on her hips, spat on the floor in my direction, and sneered. "Shut your mouth, you bitch. From now on, we're Ryan's first and second wives. And you think you can throw us out?"