I Wanted Hot Guys, But My Ex Blocked My Way

I got divorced.

Three years ago, all for that gorgeous face of Morgan Hull’s, I agreed to a business marriage and signed a three-year marital contract.

In the end, after signing the contract, Morgan practically vanished. I barely saw him once a year. He never picked up the phone, never replied to messages, wouldn’t even let me hold his hand. I was like a widow guarding a living ghost, and even the warmest heart can’t stay hot forever.

The moment the three years were up, I couldn’t wait to slam the divorce papers down in front of him.

He stared at me for a while, then said, “You’re right. But the speed of light is two hundred ninety-nine thousand seven hundred ninety-two kilometers per second, a single chip can hold tens of billions of transistors, humans evolved from monkeys so sharks can’t ride horses.”

“…What?”

“So, after the divorce… can I pursue you?”

“…?”

…

Today, I’m finally divorcing Morgan.

To celebrate this glorious day, I dragged myself out of bed at nine in the morning, squirmed a bit before climbing down, then crept off in the gloom to brush my teeth and splash water on my face. After that, I slid down the stair railing with a swoosh.

Perfect landing. Ten out of ten.

Since I was little, my parents and I never saw eye to eye—about anything. From how I went downstairs to what major I wanted in college, we were always on different planets. They didn’t treat me badly, but they never understood me. Morgan was the same.

We’ve been married three years, and he treats me like I’m venomous. No holding hands, no arms around the waist, and somehow he manages to cold-war with me twenty-five hours a day.

I usually call him “Ghosty.”

Because he made me live like a damned widow for three years.

To his credit, he did arrange a villa for me and hired a very attentive housekeeper.

The housekeeper always left breakfast on the table ahead of time, timed perfectly to my usual wake-up hour: sandwiches, milk, dessert, and half an ear of corn.

I grabbed the corn and took a bite. The temperature was just right, and it was the kind I liked.

Too bad I won’t get to eat the housekeeper’s cooking anymore.

She was hired by Morgan. In the past three years, he almost never came to this villa. I’ve only seen him three times in total: once at the wedding, once at his grandfather’s big birthday banquet, and once we ran into each other when I was on vacation and he was on a business trip.

I married him for his looks, even forced myself to play the part of a refined, elegant lady that the world adored for quite a while before the wedding. And yet I couldn’t even see his face once a year. And of course he just had to be a stickler for rules and added a “neither party is allowed to cheat” clause in the agreement. While my single girlfriends were out flirting with hot guys, I could only stay home and pet my little hamster.

I was wrong. I never should’ve let his face cloud my judgment.

Still, the villa Morgan arranged for me is huge. I can sleep in the bedroom, on the living room couch, if I wanted to, even on the damn ceiling. He’s also never stingy with my living expenses—or the hamster’s. After three years, both my hamster and I have gotten a bit rounder. Especially the hamster. It’s evolved from a flat little fur pancake into a full-on furball.

Corn in one hand, I used the other to feed my hamster a delicate little pastry from a fine china plate. I left the rest of the food on the table for the housekeeper, plucked a tiny decorative flower from the breakfast plate, and tucked it behind my ear.

“Damn, I look good,” I sighed to myself.

I checked the time. Still early. I pulled out my phone and called my best friend, Iris.

“Iris, want to hit the bar tonight? Take me with you.”

Her voice came through, surprised but mostly delighted. “Seriously, Rosalind, you’re finally getting divorced?!”

“Mhm!” I planted a hand on my hip proudly. “I’m free!”

“The three-year sentence is over—welcome back, Your Majesty!” On the other end of the line came a loud drum-like slapping sound, like a happy little seal applauding with its belly.

“Just wait. I know a few new male models—over six feet, great legs, and abs. I’ll reserve them for you right now!”

“Hehehe, you really do get me, hehehe…”