Why My Husband Hates Me Novels & Stories

“Six years. He doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you get to know him, he isn’t as bad as he looks.” I thought he looked pretty great, but I was pretty sure Dennis wasn’t talking about his appearance. He surely possessed a wealth of information on the man who was my husband, but it didn’t feel right to pepper him with questions, so I chickened out. After a few days, I had accepted that I would have to personally experience the ultimate joy of learning about my husband who hated sharing any kind of personal information willingly unless you hounded him about it for quite a while. One thing I’d learned was that he hated when I asked and answered questions on my own as if speaking for him.

She stare at his jawline and gawked at how handsome he looked laughing, it was something she knew she wouldn't be seeing often, considering the kind of person he is. "You do realize that one thing I hate the most is liars, and you don't want me hating you or do you. I can be very dangerous if I start to hate you and that might scare you away, who h I wouldn't let happened" he said and lifted her face up, as one of his fingers drugged into a skin a little before smiling at her. "I know you cheat on your husband and you stopped loving him five years ago, my love. I also know you are already tired of the marriage and are only there mainly because of his money and your little daughter" he added

To the public, our marriage is nothing short of perfect, but in reality, every aspect of our marriage is a failure. And I can almost say that my husband hates me. I have known this for years now and I’ve never expected him to change, so why does it hurt so much to see him act like this towards me? My stupid, stupid, stupid heart keeps hurting! My thoughts are interrupted by a click on the backseat door. The moment it’s opened, I step out of it and revel in the cool, gentle breeze caressing my face and exposed arms and swaying strands of my hair in different directions. The throbbing headache that began at the hospital has not abated and I’m happy to be home because all I want to do right now

I responded. Did Mark just sigh in relief? “I haven’t had any plans for years now,” I added. “Why not?” Mark asked. “Because I spent years looking after you and playing wife, Mark, and you never for once thought of anything special or even allowed me to do anything special,” I blurted out as an anger I hadn’t even realized was inside of me bubbled to the surface. And that was the plain and bitter truth. “You were barely even ever home, Mark. You would rather spend it with Ivy or your friend, Vector, so when or how was I supposed to have done something in years when I was married to a husband who hated me?” I asked Mark angrily.

“You make me sick you fucking whore, you have nothing better to do than to spill your juices out on my bed” A pan of guilt hit me, I didn’t know he’d be back from his business trip today. Ashamed, I hurried out of the bed, my thighs sticking together from my dried up juices. I hear Steve mutter something under his breath as I helped myself to the bathroom. Tears streamed down my face as the warm water from the shower hit my skin in multiple drops. This wasn’t how we used to be, we used to be in love, inseparable, obsessed with each other. Now I had to resort to a rose toy to satisfy my sexual longing. I hated it. I hated that he was so busy, he didn’t kiss me in the mornings before he went t

I mean, he'd barely say bye or good morning to me but now he was sharing his whole life story with me; A life story that I never ever thought about. "I know you'd be surprised after hearing this but I got this disorder too by my dearest wife. She made me go crazy; she made me feel angry: she made me feel lonely, and lastly she gave me traumatic experiences that I couldn't even fucking remember." he groaned, gritting his teeth. Why did his wife hate him so much? Every girl in this world would want him to be their life partner then why did that girl who got all of his love, rejected him? my mind raced with so many thoughts as I still couldn't believe it.

I ask, chuckling a bit. “It’s hideous right?” she replies laughing. “No offense.” “Oh believe me I agree, it’s him that you have to make sure doesn’t hear you say that.” “This will just make it worse, your husband clearly doesn’t like me already” I ask. “It’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s more of a matter of trust.” “He doesn’t trust me. I can’t blame him for that though.” I say, after a long pause. “And what do you think?”

The realization stung, even though I saw it coming. Everyone would know. Everyone would see how much my husband hates me. And I would have to live with it under the same roof.

I love her more than anything. My husband is really made of brick—no emotions, no feelings, no human decency. It feels so suffocating inside, and I don't know when he will be back. It's only afternoon. I planted my face in the pillow and groaned in annoyance. I hate him...I hate that grumpy old husband of mine. Ughhhhhhhhh. I need to get out of this room, or I will go crazy for fucking sure. I get it that I am from a poor family, but that doesn't mean he can insult me like this.

I felt my stomach boil, I hated how everyone always thought the best about him. “I could never love him, when I see him all I feel is contempt. I do not even like to be close to him, I detest everything about my husband. My husband is insufferable and arrogant. He is the worst kind of man and if the rest of you don't see him for what he is, it is because you are blind…” An unexpected sound made me stop spewing hate. It sounded like steps striding away. We looked down the corridor but saw no one. Had someone been eavesdropping?