KIMANI
By the third day back at work, I decided I had had enough.
The whispers, the side glances, the poorly hidden smirks—it was exhausting. But more than that, it was insulting. If they wanted to talk about me, fine. But I wasn’t about to play the role of the timid bride who couldn’t handle a little gossip.
So when I heard two interns in the breakroom giggling as I walked in—one of them whispering, “She’s only here because she married him”—I didn’t hesitate.
I plastered on my brightest smile, sauntered over to the coffee machine, and said sweetly, “Oh, you’re absolutely right. Being married to Alaric Walker does come with perks. I mean, have you seen the car he bought me? No taxi apps, no waiting around. Just sleek black leather seats and me living my best life.”
The way their jaws
