Where Can I Find Examples Of Letters To My Future Husband?

I thought my life was sorted. I have a sweet fiancé Marcus, a cozy apartment and my wedding Pinterest board on lock. As The classic good girl, I saved myself for marriage, never gave anyone trouble and always made safe choices. That was until I met Marcus’ dad Victor. He is tall, suave and deliciously charming. Everything about him turns me on without trying. Just one handshake and my body lit up like fireworks. I panicked and told myself it was hormones. I avoided him like a plague and even gave Marcus my virginity few months to our wedding but it didn’t work. One girls’ night and one weird-tasting drink, I find myself in his bed begging like I’d lost my mind while he ruins me for his son. Now I dream him every night while Marcus snores beside me like nothing’s changed. He has no idea I’m picturing his father when he touches me and that it’s his dad’s name I’m biting back when I come. I tell myself in the mirror every morning:
“Stop! You’re not this person.” But the second we’re in the same room? My willpower cracks. This isn’t cute at all. It’s messy, embarrassing and terrifying.
 The safest choice feels lonelier every day and the dangerous one feels like I’m finally breathing. What am I to do when the person I’m supposed to marry isn’t the one setting my body on fire and the one who is happens to be the last man I’m allowed to want? How long can I keep this affair hidden from Marcus when the wedding is so close and Victor is determined to have not just my body?

"Let's get divorced." Layla said quietly but firmly. She couldn't take it anymore. Her marriage with Nate has been a facade, constructed solely to fulfill her father's dying wish. Even though Layla used to think she could his heart through time, she finally gave it up seeing his ex-girlfriend coming back. She should be the one to stand beside Nate. After all, she has always been the one in his heart. That's why Nate never laid his hand on her throughout their entire marriage, wasn't it? Layla was a girl with dignity. If Nate didn't show any interest in her, she didn't want to be the wrong person to occupy him, even if it hurt to let go. However, why didn't Nate just accept it and move on? Seeing the divorce paper, he said to Layla coldly, "as long as the paper is not signed, you are still my wife and no other man can lay his hands on you."

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

On the seventh year after the breakup, I receive a package from Clarence Fraser. All 44 pounds of said package consist of the stacks of chat history I have with him in the past. Soon, Clarence's text appears on my phone screen. "Wanna meet up? I'd like to tell you something." I pause momentarily before responding with a "1". That number signifies rejection. Then, I turn my phone off. After wiping my sweat off with a towel, I pick up another crate of fruits and continue promoting them to the customers loudly, as though nothing has happened. It's been so many years, and I don't know why Clarence decides to text me all of a sudden. Similarly, he doesn't know that I've already become someone else's wife a long time ago.

On my wedding day, my fiancé showed up with another woman, flashing a marriage license. He announced, "She's my true love. Don't even think about taking her place." My doting brother sided with her too. "You've had a cushy life for over 20 years. Let her have this." I left quietly. My brother and my fiancé breathed a sigh of relief. They paraded the new girl around town, my brother even calling her his adopted sister to boost her status. They didn't know I'd gone to the border until someone mentioned me. I was done with them, but they started to regret it.

At age 5, I met you. Understood that I was born to marry you. You were silent, you were shy. But I managed to make you be my friend. At age 13, I fell in love with you. I loved your cheeky smile. I loved the way I am the only person you rely on.At age 17, I became yours and promised myself to you. I pledged to wait for you no matter how long. You were sweet, caring, and treated me like I'm the only woman in your world. At age 18, you left. Moving to another country to meet the future that you are born to. I waited but you hardly called. At age 25, you came back for me, but you're not the man I knew. From the day I was born, I was meant to be his. It was okay. Everything was great. I loved him as we played on the playgrounds, as we watched grow up- and he loved me. Suddenly, he left with his father to go to Italy leaving me behind for seven years, he came back but he wasn't the same.From the day I was born, I was meant to be his. I was happy to be his. But he was no longer the man who I was betrothed to.