Why My Husband Hates Me Novels & Stories

I mean I haven't had a good history, none of my husbands were good men, they all lied to me and they all hurt me in one way or the other. I am sitting here in this cabin with a man I hate with all my being, a man I hate with everything I had in me and he is telling me things about him and my husband that I didn't know about. I hate hearing surprises and right now this is the biggest surprise ever. Like I said, I hate surprises. Now I am asking myself if I want to stay in this marriage. " What did you mean that my husband made you what you are today?" I asked him. I had to be clear.

He moved out of the way, his eyes glaring at me with annoyance. "You're fucking draining me!" Cartwe shouted. "I can't fucking breath! Every fucking night, Lia! Really?!" "You're my husband!" He huffed at me. "You're being ridiculous." He told me. "That's another reason why I'm asking you for this. You're unstable and your fucking temper tantrums make things worse! On top of that, I can't fucking work without you thinking that I'm cheating on you! I've never cheated on you!" My arms crossed over my chest as I listened to my husband bicker and complain about every negative thing about me. There was nothing good that came out of his mouth. Just fucking bad things.

“Wait, why am I not surprised. And yet, you’re still here.” Alright, I’ve had enough. “Look Patricia, I don’t know why you don’t like me, and to be very frank with you, I don’t care anymore, but what I’m not going to let you do is talk down on me and throw jabs my way like I have done something to offend you when I very well haven’t.” She stood up. “You want to know why I don’t like you? Well, I’ll tell you. You tried to take my husband away from me, that’s why!” She screamed in my face, all trace of elegance and poise gone, she looked out for blood,

My heart started to pound hard in my chest, my skin prickling with strange chills. Why am I feeling like this? "Is it because I don’t touch you?" He said. "What?" "You know when a husband doesn’t touch his wife, she gets angry and starts to hate him. I believe that’s the issue here. You don’t really hate me, you just crave to be touched by me." I shook my head. "No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong. I hate you for everything not just that." "Oh, so you admit that’s part of it?" He said with a faint, knowing smile.

“It’s nothing. A prank. But if I find out you’re looking for more clues,talking to staff or sneaking around, I’ll make you regret it. You think I hate you now? Keep pushing, and you’ll see what real hate looks like.” ‎“Why? What are you hiding?” ‎He stepped close, breath hot on my face. “I’m protecting my family. You’re not family. You’re an intruder. Stay in your lane, or I’ll lock you in a room until you learn.” ‎He stormed out. The door slammed. ‎His hatred had sharpened, like a blade honed overnight. Meals were silent. He barely looked at me. The house felt colder. ‎But I couldn’t stop. The past was bleeding into the present, and I was the one getting stained.

~••Ava••~ I hate him. God, I really hate my husband Aleksei Vadik. But even amidst all my hatred for him, I can't will my body or mind to deny the pleasure he gives me. It was just a fucking kiss on the earlobe, not even my mouth, yet I'm already hot and bothered for him. For the man I hate.

Now it just made me feel sick. "I did love you," he said quietly. "I really did, Ivy. But then you turned bitter and hateful. You became jealous of every friendship I had, suspicious of every kindness I showed to other people. The love died because you killed it." Bitter and hateful. Me. I came into his life, happy, innocent, loving. He turned me bitter and hateful and now he has the guts to blame me. Having to watch your husband give his attention, his care, his affection to another woman over and over and over, while treating you like an inconvenience would make anyone bitter.

It feels like I’ve been slapped. “Let’s get one thing straight before we start this marriage,” he says, venom dripping from every word. “I don’t want it. I’m not going to be the doting, loving husband you’ve probably dreamed about. I’ll only touch you in public or when you’re ovulating—until we give the old man an heir and a spare. We’ll live in the same house because we have to, but I’ll live my life how I damn well please.” At first, I’d pulled back—stunned by the hatred in his voice. But now that the shock has worn off, I let every ounce of disgust I feel for him rise to the surface.

She ordered another lemon juice and drank it when it arrived. “I'm more frustrated with you than my husband. Hey. Do you think our family has a curse or something? Why does our partner not like us a bit? Why do they want to divorce us?” “The problem is no longer you, but your husband.” “What about you? Are you the problem?” I heaved a sigh. “Maybe I am.” If I was a good husband, my wife would never seek divorce again. Or maybe, I was not doing my best in serving her. Or maybe because I slapped her hand when we nearly had sex?

I have just made sure that Vittoria will now hate me, because that will make things eaiser. God, I really am a horrible husband.