I Wanted Hot Guys, But My Ex Blocked My Way

Unfortunately, I’m just an utterly ordinary crazy bitch. Morgan and I have only ever been a married couple on paper, and sitting on the floor was completely voluntary on my part.

“Morgan’s free now?” I asked Simon.

“Yes, the CEO just finished his meeting,” Simon answered. “You’re…?”

“Oh, I’m just gonna sit here for a bit.” I cracked another sunflower seed. “The floor’s this clean—why can’t I sit on it?”

“…You can. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Simon really was a man after my own heart.

Too bad getting divorced was my top priority at the moment. Since Morgan was free, I had no intention of wasting time.

I handed Simon a napkin, set the hamster and the sunflower seed shells on it, then grabbed the divorce papers and happily jogged back to the reception room.

Leaving Simon and Miss Hull staring at each other.

Miss Hull’s face practically turned into one big question mark. “Simon, who is she?”

Simon held it in for a moment, then replied, “A badass.”

The hamster squirmed in his hand. He tugged at the corner of his mouth, clearly speechless. “Why did she give me the hamster? And why the napkin?”

“Because it poops,” I called, poking my head out of the reception room.

“…”

“If it poops, remember to change the napkin underneath. You can pet it as much as you want in the meantime.”

With that, I ducked back into the conference room and met Morgan’s eyes, full of a tangled storm of emotions.

I had to admit, he really was good-looking. But the second I thought about how he wouldn’t let me touch him and also wouldn’t let me touch anyone else, my heart went cold.

I set the divorce papers on the table.

Morgan didn’t even look at them. Instead, he asked, “Who were you saying would poop?”

I shot back, “You don’t poop?”

“…”

Whoever first asked whether people poop or not was a fucking genius, in my opinion.

I really am a genius.

Hee-hee.

Morgan’s expression, as he looked at me standing there with my hands on my hips, turned into a mix of three pounds of bitter melon and chocolate. His insanely high face value got dragged down by that twisted look.

“…”

Okay, no more hee-hee.

But I was used to it. At least sixty percent of the people who talked to me would end up making that face.

So hurry up and sign the divorce, Morgan. We’re not even on the same wavelength; there’s no way we’re going to be happy together!

Under my burning gaze, Morgan finally looked down at the divorce papers. After a brief pause, he asked, “Do we really have to get divorced?”

I answered without a second thought, “It doesn’t really make a difference whether we divorce or not, but if I want to touch hot guys, I have to.”

“…” Morgan looked at me.

“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 use smartphones.”

My brain rusted over for a second. I didn’t catch a word of that.

“Huh?”

“So, after we divorce, can I pursue you?”

“…”

Excuse me, my guy.

Before marriage, we’d never even met. After marriage, I wasn’t allowed to touch him. Now we’re getting divorced and he suddenly asks if he can chase me?

Morgan’s only response was, “Can’t I?”

His question sounded perfectly reasonable. My silence was deafening.

Anyone who could look at me like he’d eaten some kind of cursed flavor combo would never end up in the same psych ward as me, emotionally speaking.

And I was done being tempted by his face. After three years of lonely widowhood, my heart had frozen into thousand-year ice. I needed a young, blazing-hot pretty boy to thaw it out.