Can Open Letters To My Boyfriend Fix Problems?

Elena sacrificed everything for the sake of her marriage to Adrian. She left her job and her family behind just to put up with his manipulative mother, all in the name of protecting their marriage.  Yet that still didn’t stop Adrian from betraying her. Worse, he didn’t even bother to hide his affair.  When Elena finally had enough, she asked for a divorce, determined to rebuild her life and chase her dreams. But will her ex-husband and his toxic family ever let her live in peace?

“You are barren and worthless. I want nothing to do with an infertile woman like you. Sign these divorce papers and get the bloody hell out of my house and my life!!!” He yelled, and that was all I needed to wake up from my foolish and stupid dream, coming to the realization that my husband despised me and there was no way I could make this work anymore. With shaky hands, I took a pen and signed the divorce papers. It was all over now. ***** She dedicated all her life to loving him, he was like a god to her and despite the obstacles she faced in their marriage, she was happy because loving him was enough for her, but what she didn’t expect was to be thrown out by the same man she dedicated all her life to. After getting cheated on and thrown out, Janette started her life anew, unknown to everyone that she was pregnant. She fought her way to the top and six years later, she is back with a handsome baby boy and her new lover. She thought her life was now on track, not until her ex-husband showed up and claimed he wanted her back. With his eyes filled with longing and regret, he muttered under his breath. “Dear Ex-Wife, Let Us Restart.” But is she ready to forgive and get back together with him when she now has someone, who loves her dearly? And what about her son, who now wants her to be with his daddy? What is she going to do about that? Each choice came with a price, and it was all hers to make.

BOOK 1 in SHATTERED VOWS Series. Book 1--Dear husband my ex is Back. Thalia was overwhelmed when the doctor informed her she was pregnant, she was happy to share the news with her husband since It's their third year anniversary. But her husband came home with her twin sister, declaring Thalia was just a wife to him and he didn't love her. He loved his twin sister after all her sister was his first love. Heartbroken and pregnant, she met George Williams, the man she once saved. He offered to raise the child with her which she agreed. Seven years later, Franklin came crawling back refusing to let her go. But Thalia has a husband and a heart she didn't want to break again. Will she give Franklin a second chance or be with her husband? And what will happen when Franklin finds out she had twin babies for him?

When her cheating husband accuses Liza of being a cheater, Liza loses it all. All while knowing her husband's infidelity, the only hope she held onto was that he would come back to her leaving his cheating ways. When he demands a divorce, she gives in. Distraught by his accusations, she leaves the very home she had spent numerous nights waiting for him to come home. But an unfortunate accident lands her in the hospital. And the only way he would ever know her truth is the box Liza cherishes so much. In the box lie a series of letters she had written him. Note: This book is about growth and finding oneself.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.