Life seemed so meaningless now.

Ever since your divorce with the love of your life, Simon Riley, you’ve been struggling with keeping up your motivation. He used to be the one who would nudge you gently out of your deep slumber; now you were yanked rudely out of it by your dumbass alarm. He used to be the shoulder you cried, screamed, and hid yourself on. Now you had nothing to comfort you except the echo of your own sobs. You never realized just how lonely your apartment was until you were the only one living in it.

Now, you had to wake up every morning and push yourself to see the man who singlehandedly turned your life around and put it right back where it was before you met him. Even better for you, you had a front row seat to his brewing romance with his new sergeant. The one who was sent in to replace your spot once you were demoted to office work due to your lousiness.

While you were discussing reports with Simon, the new girl — you think her name is Quinn, but you aren’t bothered to care — walked into his office with a bouquet of flowers behind her back. Simon hated flowers, and you knew that more than anyone. Yet, he would probably take them from Quinn, because Quinn was the “right one”, according to the man himself.

It was like you were the main character of your own tragedy. Was this some sort of sick joke?

“Quinn. What a surprise,” Simon said, his tone lifting slightly from the professional tone he carried with you. It was sickening.