Chapter 1
Bridget's POV:
My husband's so-called "girl best friend" couldn't keep her nose out of my business.
Every single thing I bought had to be logged through her records, and she dragged every piece of my private life into the open for everyone to mock.
The day I bought new lingerie, she gasped dramatically and practically shouted across the office.
"Bridget, you're only an A-cup?" Patricia Dalton exclaimed in disbelief. "I honestly thought you were at least a C. You must use a lot of padding when you go out, huh?"
When I bought a pack of sanitary pads, she laughed again.
"Wow, your flow must be really heavy to buy this many at once," she joked loudly. "Seems a little wasteful, but the quality is actually pretty good. I've barely ever seen you have any accidents. You should recommend this brand."
Even when I bought a box of condoms, she made sure every detail was recorded.
"This brand isn't very good," Patricia commented casually. "And they aren't even the right size for your husband."
Whispers immediately spread throughout the office.
The strange looks from my coworkers forced me to lower my head in embarrassment.
Meanwhile, my husband laughed as though the whole thing was hilarious.
He verbally scolded Patricia for being ridiculous and lacking boundaries, but when his eyes met my hurt and angry expression, he merely patted my shoulder.
"That's just how she is," Ryan Rothwell said dismissively. "She's carefree and speaks without thinking. She's trying to learn household budget management. Just let her have some fun with it."
This time, however, when the two of them questioned a charge of more than 3,000 bucks and demanded to know what it was for, I calmly pulled out a medical receipt.
I waited for Patricia to read it aloud, just as she always did.
"Hymen reconstruction surgery?" Patricia read before letting out an exaggerated laugh. "Bridget, are you and your husband playing some new game again? I never would've guessed you were this adventurous in private."
Smiling, I first shook my head, then nodded.
"Yes," I replied calmly. "Just not with my husband."
*****
Ryan's expression darkened instantly.
He shot to his feet so abruptly that his chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Bridget Rothwell, what nonsense are you talking about?" he demanded sharply. "What do you mean, 'not with my husband'? You'd better explain yourself."
Patricia's expression shifted immediately as she rushed to smooth things over.
"Oh, come on," she said with an awkward laugh. "That's just how couples flirt. Maybe they're role-playing or something. People like us wouldn't understand."
She turned toward Ryan and nudged him playfully.
"Ryan, you'll find out tonight anyway. Tomorrow, you'll have to come back and tell us how it went."
Only then did Ryan's expression gradually soften.
I clenched my fingers tightly.
Ryan always shared details of our intimate life with Patricia.
No matter how private or personal those details were.
I had argued with him countless times and warned him not to discuss such things.
He would comfort me, promise he understood, and then continue doing it anyway.
"What's the big deal?" he would say. "She asked, and I'm just satisfying her curiosity. Don't be so sensitive."
Thinking about it made my anger rise all over again.
I forced myself to calm down before taking out a set of documents and handing them to him.
He assumed they were authorization papers for some expensive purchase that required both spouses' signatures.
Without even glancing at them, he tossed them toward Patricia.
"You sign it," Ryan said casually. "It's all the same."
A cold smile appeared on my face.
After all these years together, he couldn't spare even a few extra minutes to read the divorce papers before signing them.
I stubbornly pushed the documents back toward him.
"Can her signature make a divorce agreement legally valid?" I asked coolly. "You should sign it yourself. I don't want any unnecessary complications."
Ryan's expression immediately twisted into a deep frown.
"Bridget, you're deliberately causing trouble, aren't you?" he snapped. "Every argument ends with you bringing up divorce. How many tantrums are you planning to throw before you finally grow up?"
Perhaps the coldness in my eyes stunned him for a brief moment.
He reached for the documents, seemingly intending to read them.
Unfortunately, Patricia interrupted again.
She hurried to her feet and tugged on his sleeve.
"Ryan, hurry up and sign already," she urged. "Then come with me to see my gynecologist. I've been feeling uncomfortable lately."
Before he could respond, she added, "And don't even think about saying no. I went with you to your urologist last time."
Ryan's hesitation disappeared immediately.
Without reading a single word, he signed his name at the bottom of the page.
I stared blankly at the signature.
Originally, I had wanted us to separate peacefully. But forget it.
As far as I was concerned, all that mattered was that he had signed. The agreement would take effect, and there would be no disputes later.
I picked up the documents and turned to leave.
Ryan suddenly called after me, "Bridget, I'll be home tonight."
I didn't even look back. "Oh," I answered casually.
What did it matter to me? I wasn't going home anyway.
