infidelity Romora Novel

infidelity

My husband's obsession with cleanliness is only aimed at me

Reads: 7 Parts: 6

5.0

Romance

My husband, a man who’d always avoided physical intimacy with me, displayed a photograph at his hundredth photography exhibition. It was an art photo of him embracing another woman. Both were completely nude, intertwined in the frame without a shred of modesty. There was even a matching tattoo on her inner thigh, identical to his. Before the guests, he spoke eloquently: "This is my first attempt at bold, avant-garde art, and I especially want to thank Jessica for making such a huge sacrifice for my exhibition." "I hope we'll have more opportunities to collaborate in the future." Instead of the usual screaming match, I remained calm. I silently canceled our anniversary dinner reservation. Four years of neglect. I didn't want to cling to this anymore.
The 100th Proposal

Reads: 51 Parts: 9

4.6

Romance

How much did my husband used to love me? Seriously, the guy proposed like, ninety-nine times just to get me to say yes. It wasn't until the hundredth time that I finally cracked. I became the envy of everyone in Chicago as Mrs. Frank. On our wedding day, I gave him ninety-nine "Get Out of the Doghouse" cards. We agreed that as long as those cards weren't all used up, I'd stick around. Five years into our marriage, every time he ran off to be with his precious Emily, he'd use one up. When he was down to card number ninety-seven, Frank suddenly realized I was changing. I stopped with the crying, the begging for him to stay. I just quietly asked him, when he was losing it over his ditzy secretary, "If you go be with her, can I use a card?" He blinked, a rare moment of guilt flashing across his face. "Sure, whatever, you've only used like, sixty-something. Knock yourself out." I just nodded, letting him go. What he didn't know was that it was actually his ninety-seventh card. And we only had two left.
Love's nocturne

Reads: 36 Parts: 12

4.5

Romance

The elevator in the mall broke down. Of all the luck, I was stuck with some young, pretty pregnant woman. No sooner were we rescued than she was on the phone, all weepy, to her husband. She was practically purring into the phone, "Honey, you gotta come quick! My tummy hurts!" Her husband showed up before the ambulance even got there. But, holy crap, the guy looked exactly like my husband, Jake. You know, the one who'd given me a kiss goodbye that morning. Seriously, did this woman and I just husband-swap without realizing it?

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