153 Book(s) Related to marriage crisis

Three Years as Substitute: I Quit, He Regrets

Three Years as Substitute: I Quit, He Regrets

1.9k Views · Ongoing · Vivian Cross
He married me because I look like her.
For three years, I played the role. I cooked his meals. I warmed his bed. I smiled when he forgot my birthday. I stayed quiet when he left in the middle of the night to hold her hand.
I told myself it was enough. I told myself I didn't need his love.
Then I got pregnant.
He said he hated children. So I didn't tell him. I was going to keep it. Our baby. The only thing that was truly mine.
But my body had other plans.
When I called him from the hospital floor, bleeding out, begging for help—he didn't come. He said I was lying. He was too busy with her.
That night, I lost everything.
The baby. The hope. The lie I'd been living.
Now he's calling me. Again and again.
But the substitute wife? She's not picking up.
After His Affair, I Faked My Death

After His Affair, I Faked My Death

749 Views · Ongoing · Vivian Cross
My husband swore I was the only woman he would ever love.
Then my half-sister handed me her ultrasound. His baby. Growing inside her.
Three years of marriage. Three years of building everything together. Gone in one moment.
I should have thrown the proof in his face.
But my doctor gave me news that made his betrayal feel like nothing.
So I did something he will never expect.
I disappeared.
Let him search. Let him lose his mind.
He will never find me.
The Girl Who Sat Next to Darkness

The Girl Who Sat Next to Darkness

807 Views · Ongoing · Vivian Cross
The letter arrived while I was fighting a burnt piece of toast.
There was no name on the envelope, but I knew where it came from—Star Ring Academy. A place I thought only existed in my mother's diary. A place that could teach me to control my magic. A place where I wouldn't have to keep pretending to be "normal."
What I didn't expect was that this place had its own marked person too.
Kain Ashworth. Every student and teacher avoided him. They said he was a curse. Dangerous. That everyone who got close would disappear.
So when he sat alone in the last row, I walked over and sat down next to him.
Everyone thought I'd lost my mind. But they didn't know that I understood loneliness—the kind where the whole world turns its back on you—better than anyone.
Then, out of nowhere, he recognized my last name. And he said to me: "You and I are the same kind of people."
I didn't quite understand. Was he saying he knew my secret?