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She Had Germaphobia—But Only for Me Novel Cover

She Had Germaphobia—But Only for Me

For seven years, David tolerated his wife Mila's bizarre rules, believing her extreme germaphobia was the reason she avoided his touch and banned him from her office. But the illusion shatters when he discovers her assistant, Ryan, showering in her private bathroom and wearing spare clothes she kept for him. As Mila sanitizes her skin in disgust after David touches her arm, Ryan mocks his devotion. Pushed past his breaking point, David discards his wedding ring and walks away from a selective marriage.
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Chapter 1

Mila Galloway claimed to have a severe phobia of germs. Specifically, my germs.

She forbade me from using the restroom in her office and banned me from leaving any personal items in her workspace. I accepted this as her eccentricity—until today.

When her little assistant, Ryan Delgado, spilled coffee on his clothes, Mila didn't hesitate. She ushered him into her private bathroom to shower. Worse, she opened her desk drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of men's boxers she kept specifically for him.

Cold rage spiked through me. I grabbed her wrist, forcing her to meet my eyes.

"You claim to be a germaphobe," I said, voice low. "Why is he allowed in there when I'm banned? You won't even kiss me because of 'hygiene,' yet you keep his underwear in your desk?"

Inside the bathroom, the water stopped. Ryan's voice drifted out, dripping with mockery. "Face it, David. Big Sister just loves me more than she loves you."

Mila ripped her hand from my grip. She didn't speak—just grabbed a sanitizing wipe and furiously scrubbed the spot where my skin had touched hers. Pure disgust on her face.

Without a word, she walked into the bathroom, chatting and laughing with Ryan as he dressed.

Something inside me snapped. Seven years of endurance shattered in a single moment.

I slid my wedding band off and tossed it into the trash with a decisive clank.

"Divorce." My tone was flat. "I'm done with a wife whose germaphobia is selective."

——

The laughter died. Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

I turned to leave, hand on the doorknob, when the door swung open. A group of salespeople from a luxury boutique filed in, arms laden with bags.

"Mr. Weiss, good afternoon!" the lead associate chirped, oblivious. "Mrs. Weiss custom-ordered these shoes and suits for you personally. You're a lucky man—her devotion is the talk of our store."

"Indeed," another added, setting down a velvet box. "Mrs. Weiss was so particular. Insisted no one touch the items with bare hands. Said her husband dislikes others handling his belongings."

The irony tasted like ash.

I stared at the pile. In seven years, Mila had never bought me a gift. Not once. And the brand was flashy, gaudy—completely opposite to my taste.

These weren't for me. They never were.

On cue, Mila emerged from the bathroom, Ryan close behind.

Ryan stepped forward, reaching past me to snatch the garment bag from the salesperson's hands.

"Oh, careful," he said, clutching it to his chest. "Ms. Galloway bought this for me. Not for... other men." He shot me a smug look. "You lot are blind. Stop praising the wrong person."

The air left the room.

The salespeople froze, smiles faltering. Their eyes darted from me to my bare ring finger to Mila.

Mila, usually ice-cold, looked at Ryan with a warmth I had never received. Doting. Indulgent.

"Do you like them?" she asked him, ignoring me entirely.

"I love them," Ryan replied, voice sugary. "But my apartment's so small... nowhere to keep all this."

"Leave them here, then," Mila said. "When you want to change, just come in. You don't need to ask."

Ryan beamed, shooting me a provocative look over her shoulder. He expected me to explode—wanted the jealous, impulsive husband of the past.

But that man was gone. I felt nothing but hollow resolve.

The salespeople held their breath. They'd walked into a minefield. The expensive "husband" gifts were for the assistant. The humiliation was absolute.

"Look at you," Mila chided softly. "Your collar's crooked. You're like a child."

She raised her hand—the same hand she'd scrubbed clean of my touch—and straightened Ryan's collar. Her fingers lingered. They stood so close their shadows merged.

The salespeople mumbled apologies and fled.

They would talk. By tonight, all of high society would know that David Weiss was the biggest cuckold in the city.

"Why stop at the collar?" My voice cut through like ice. "Why don't you two just strip naked and finish the job right here?"

Mila stiffened. She stepped away from Ryan and spun around, eyes blazing.

"David Weiss, have you had enough?" she snapped. "I've endured your attitude for a long time."

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