So, I got divorced. Three years ago, my shallow, looks-obsessed self agreed to a business marriage, all for the sake of Alexander Croft’s face. We signed a contract, a three-year deal. The bastard signed the papers and then vanished. I’d see him maybe once a year. He wouldn’t answer my calls, wouldn’t return my texts. I couldn’t even touch his hand. It was like being a widow while he was still alive. Even the hottest fire would turn to ice. So, the second our time was up, I couldn’t wait to shove the divorce papers in his face. But you know what he did? He just stared at me for a long moment and said, “You’re right, but the speed of light is 299,792 kilometers per second, a single chip can have billions of transistors, and humans evolved from apes, which is why sharks can’t ride horses.” “…The what?” “So, after we’re divorced… can I ask you out?” “…?” 1. Today was the day. I was divorcing Alexander Croft. To celebrate this glorious occasion, I dragged myself out of bed at the crack of nine, wriggled to the edge of the mattress like a worm, and slithered off the bed. I crawled my way to the bathroom in the shadows to brush my teeth and give my face a quick power-wash, then slid down the banister with a triumphant whoosh. A perfect landing. Ten out of ten! My parents and I never saw eye to eye on anything, from the proper way to descend a staircase to what I should major in at college. They provided for me, but they never understood me. Alexander was the same. In three years of marriage, he’d avoided me like I was radioactive. No hand-holding, no arm around my waist. We were in a state of perpetual cold war, twenty-five hours a day. I usually just called him “that ghost.” Because he’d left me to be a living widow for three years. Though, to his credit, he’d provided me with a gorgeous villa and a wonderfully attentive housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. She knew my morning routine and always had breakfast waiting on the table: a spread of fresh pastries, bagels, a fruit parfait, and half a corn on the cob. I grabbed the corn and took a bite. Yep, perfect temperature. My favorite kind, sweet and crunchy. A shame I wouldn’t be eating her cooking anymore. She was Alexander’s employee, after all. He’d barely set foot in this villa in three years. We’d only seen each other a grand total of three times: our wedding, his grandfather’s birthday gala, and once when I ran into him on a business trip while I was on vacation. I married him for his looks, even forcing myself to act like some prim and proper debutante for weeks before the wedding, only to see him less than once a year. And the man had the audacity to be a stickler for the rules, adding a “no-cheating” clause to our contract. While all my single friends were out flirting with cute guys, I was stuck at home, cuddling my hamster. My mistake. I never should have let a pretty face sway me. Still, the villa was huge. I could sleep in the master bedroom, on the living room couch, or on the ceiling if I wanted. And he was never stingy with the allowance for me and my hamster. Over three years, we both got a little rounder. Especially the hamster. He went from a furry pancake to a furry little sphere. Munching on my corn, I fed my hamster a tiny piece of a scone from a delicate porcelain dish. I left the rest of the food for Mrs. Gable, plucked a decorative flower from the breakfast arrangement, and tucked it behind my ear. Damn, I’m gorgeous, I thought with a sigh. I checked the time. Still early. I pulled out my phone and called my best friend. “Nina, you hitting the club tonight? Count me in.” Her voice was a mix of surprise and pure joy. “For real, Sylvie? Are you finally free?!” “You bet!” I said, striking a proud pose with a hand on my hip. “I’m a free woman!” “The three-year sentence is up! All hail the returning queen!” I could hear a sound like happy seal-clapping from the other end. “Just you wait. I know a few new models… six-foot-two, abs for days. I’ll book ’em for you right now!” “Heh, you know me so well…” The thought of being surrounded by handsome men, free to touch and admire, sent a wave of pure bliss through me. I started doing a happy little wiggle dance right there on the floor. But then, Nina’s voice turned serious. “But! No more making the models do your calculus homework for you!” What? Who, me? I would never. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “And yes, you would.” “…” Fine. I just like seeing handsome guys look all helpless and confused! 2. After the call, I grabbed the divorce papers I’d prepared long ago and had the driver take me to the ghost’s corporate headquarters. His assistant, Mr. Davis, heard I was coming and quickly escorted me to a meeting room to wait. But the place was a total bore. The sunflower seeds and bottled water they offered weren’t up to my hamster’s standards. I restlessly paced around, flattening myself against the wall a few times before deciding to go check on the employees. My family’s company has business with the Croft Corporation, so it was perfectly reasonable for me to be inspecting the workforce. It was almost lunchtime, and that half-cob of corn was a distant memory. My stomach was growling, so I grabbed a bowl of sunflower seeds and strolled into the main office area, cracking them as I went. The employees were all working diligently. I was pleased. The ghost might be a ghost, but he had a good eye for talent. No wonder my dad had pushed for me to marry him instead of some other CEO’s son from the Williams or Peterson families. But for such a huge office, where were the trash cans? What was I supposed to do with all these shells… Just as I was pondering this, a sharp, confident-looking young woman came striding toward me, her heels clicking decisively on the polished floor. She looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. Based on that rhythmic clicking, I’d bet a sunflower seed she’d studied percussion. She stopped right in front of me, looking annoyed. “This is work hours, and you’re just standing here eating sunflower seeds?” “Hm?” I tilted my head, thinking. Oh. She had a point. I shouldn’t be standing. So I sat down on the floor. I’m a guest, after all. A guest shouldn’t have to stand while eating sunflower seeds! Sitting is the proper etiquette! The woman froze, completely thrown off. For a moment, she was speechless. “You… you…” She finally sputtered, “What department are you in? Slacking off and wandering around during work hours!” Ah, she thought I was an employee. That explained it. She’d probably die of embarrassment if she knew who I was. Being the considerate person I am, I decided not to call her out directly. I just gave her a little hint. “What department are you a manager in? How can you not even recognize your own staff?” Get a clue, pretty lady. I’m just passing through! But my hint landed like a challenge. She stomped her foot, her voice tight with anger. “You’re the one Grandpa sent, aren’t you?! I knew they wouldn’t let me have a peaceful internship! It’s only been a few days, and you’re already here to make trouble for me!” “…” Whoa. All I did was a basic attack, and she used her ultimate ability. But her outburst jogged my memory. This naive firecracker was Alexander’s younger sister. I’d seen her at his grandfather’s birthday gala, but I’d forgotten her name. Back then, she was dressed to the nines, every smile and gesture radiating the innocent vivacity of a young girl raised in a bubble. A sheltered little princess. She was actually kind of cute. Just then, Mr. Davis rushed over. He looked at me sitting on the floor, then at his boss’s fuming sister, and was completely at a loss. With my ten years of novel-reading experience, I could tell he was already scripting a tragic romance in his head: I love him, he doesn’t love me, and his cruel sister is bullying me. Too bad. I’m just a certified nutcase. Alexander and I were never in love, and I sat on the floor all by myself. “Is Alexander free?” I asked the assistant. “Yes, the President just finished his meeting,” Davis replied. “Ma’am, are you…?” “Oh, just taking a seat.” I cracked another seed. “This floor is so clean. Am I not allowed to sit on it?” “…You are. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Davis was clearly a man of culture. I approved. But right now, the divorce was my top priority. Since the ghost was available, I didn’t want to waste any more time. 3. I handed Davis a napkin, placed my hamster and the pile of seed shells onto it, and then snatched up my divorce papers, happily skipping back to the meeting room. I left the assistant and the Croft princess staring at each other. The princess looked bewildered. “Mr. Davis, who is she?” Davis hesitated for a moment before replying, “A legend.” My hamster wriggled in his hand. He forced a tight smile, looking utterly confused. “Why did she give me the hamster? And why on a napkin?” “Because he poops,” I called out, poking my head back out of the room. “…” “If he does, just swap out the napkin. In the meantime, you can pet him all you want.” With that, I ducked back into the room, meeting Alexander’s complicated gaze. I had to admit, the man was distractingly handsome. But the moment I remembered he wouldn’t let me touch him—or anyone else—my heart grew colder than a fishmonger’s blade. I slapped the divorce papers down on the table. Alexander ignored them. “You said someone poops?” “Don’t you?” I retorted. “…” You know, the person who first questioned whether humans poop was a true genius. And I, for one, am a genius. Hehe. As I stood there with my hands on my hips, looking smug, Alexander’s expression soured, like he’d just eaten a chocolate bar filled with bitter melon. The bizarre look seriously detracted from his otherwise top-tier attractiveness. “…” Okay, maybe not hehe. But I was used to it. At least sixty percent of people I talk to end up with that same expression. So just sign the papers, ghost. We’re not on the same wavelength. We’ll never be happy! Under my expectant gaze, Alexander finally looked down at the papers. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Do we really have to get divorced?” “Even though it makes no difference whether we’re married or not,” I answered without a second thought, “for the sake of getting my hands on some handsome men, yes, we absolutely must.” “…” He looked up at me. “You’re right, but the speed of light is 299,792 kilometers per second, a single chip can have billions of transistors, and humans evolved from apes, which is why sharks can’t use smartphones.” My brain short-circuited. I had no idea what he was talking about. “What?” “So, after we’re divorced… can I ask you out?” “…” Hold on, buddy. We never met before the wedding, you wouldn’t let me touch you after, and now that we’re divorcing, you’re asking if you can date me? Have you lost your mind? And I said as much. To which Alexander replied, “Can’t I?” His question was so matter-of-fact. My silence was deafening. I couldn’t imagine that someone who looked at me like he’d just swallowed a weird concoction could ever occupy the same padded cell as me. And I was done being swayed by his face. Three years of widowhood had turned my heart into a block of ancient ice. I needed a new, fiery-hot pretty boy to thaw it out. Under my dead-eyed stare, Alexander silently signed the divorce papers. When he was done, he said again, “I was wrong to ignore you before. I hope you’ll give me a chance to pursue you.” “No,” I refused, righteously. “That would interfere with my quality time with male models.” And just like that, the silence buff was passed back to Alexander. “Male models?” “Yes. Male models.” Thinking about the pictures Nina had sent me—all those gorgeous men with perfect faces and sculpted bodies—I let out a creepy, delighted cackle. When I went back to retrieve my hamster, I found Mr. Davis frozen like a statue. The second he saw me, he quickly shut off his phone screen and resumed his petrified state. I took the hamster from his hand and gave him a little poke. What was wrong with this guy? My hamster hadn’t turned into Medusa, had he?
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