The Younger Wife Novels & Stories

“Oh! She’s a very beautiful woman, cultured, polite… Surprisingly, she didn’t run off when I made my move.” “Well, that’s already an achievement. Now I’m even more curious… How old is she?” “She’s younger. Much younger.” “Oh my God, Leonard!” “No! It’s not what you think… She’s not that young, just a little. You can’t say anything—your husband’s a cradle-robber too.” “I just want you to be happy. If you’ve found someone who can stand you and still love you, that’s good enough for me.” That face… that expression. He even looked younger, more…

she asked shyly. I shake my head, “No, I doubt they will.” Ellie hesitates at the door, “Make sure you make your wife scream tonight. I don’t want her getting jealous.” I smile, “I have every intention of making my wife serve me.” “Serve you? Should it not be the other way around?”

I asked myself. "Okay.. let's be truthful Violet..it's just you and I in the room. He's handsome. He's Rich. He's caring..cut the story short he's perfect..he made you popular..but he's 10..okay 9½ years older than you. Even though..? Today at the restaurant you were regarded as the youngest wife and everyone liked it. Everyone accepted it. It was sweet..oh Violet think" I slapped myself again Something struck me. I remembered what Barry said

Violet asked, "Then tell me, if you were genuinely thinking of getting married, would you consider Ms. Young?" "My dear godsister, how could I possibly be worthy of her?" Thomas repeated his answer, then added, "Honestly, I don't know her well. I know she has a great reputation, but she's at least ten years younger than I am, and she would be my second wife. I can't put her through that." "She's happy to accept that," Violet countered.

But for the first time since their marriage began, she hadn't felt like a stranger sharing his house. She had felt... chosen. Carefully, she slipped out of bed, making sure she didn't wake him. She paused at the bedroom door and looked back one last time. "Sleep a little longer," she whispered. Then she quietly left. *** The kitchen smelled of fresh coffee twenty minutes later. Jessica wasn't much of a cook, but she knew enough to prepare breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Fresh fruit. Nothing fancy. Just normal. Something married couples did.She found herself smiling again. Maybe this could be a new beginning.

She had worked late into the night that day, rubbing her hands raw with blisters. As I applied ointment to her palms, I scolded her for being foolish. She had only smiled and said, “If my husband and child want something, I’ll make sure they have it.” We had been so good then. We met in college. She had been a poor student with nothing to her name, and I had been the son of the wealthiest family in Rivershire.

> "I'm the cold, detached wife. I'm the emotionally unavailable physician who spent more time in the trauma bays than in her own home. I was entirely too focused on my own career advancement to notice a lonely, neglected husband." Thelma looked utterly crushed. The absolute silence that followed was all the confirmation I required. I nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle locking into perfect alignment. The script practically wrote itself. The highly successful, unyielding female doctor; the busy, neglectful mother; the tragic, cast-aside husband who simply fell into the arms of a warm, supportive young woman. You could almost hear the whispers spreading through the manicured lawns of River

Her face was washed over by disbelief as the truth was completely out of her expectation. She gulped back her surprise. She blinked back as if suddenly arriving at a conclusion. “So, she’s your young wife?” What did she mean by young wife? He was not that old, was he? He was only four years older than her. Of course, he did not deny it and Mercy realized she had made the correct guess this time. She attempted a sardonic smile all of a sudden. “Why do I feel like your young wife is not really into you? It seems like she’s deliberately trying to match us up.”

“Packing.” His jaw tightened. “We’re not going anywhere.” “I am,” she replied quietly. The room seemed to shrink. “You can’t just leave,” Lucas said. She finally turned to him. “I’m not disappearing. I’m choosing space.” “For what?” he demanded. “So I don’t forget who I was before I became someone you tolerate,” she said. The words hit harder than accusation. “You’re my wife,” Lucas said sharply. “You don’t get to make decisions like this alone.”

Maria cried out loud her shoulder is shaking and she's tightly gripping my shirt. "Wish you we're my wife too..." We have the right love but at the wrong time.