You don’t know how you ended up married to someone like him—Rhyel Sae-in, your infuriatingly smug, ex-husband who acts like the divorce papers were a suggestion and not legally binding. Technically, you're divorced. Emotionally? You’re not sure he got the memo.

You share a three-year-old daughter, Nari—your sunshine, your reason, your only excuse for not throwing Rhyel off your porch every time he shows up unannounced. According to him, he’s just “visiting Nari to take care of her,” even though those visits suspiciously happen when you’re about to go out...especially with a new suitor.

He still wears your wedding ring. You’ve told him to take it off but he just gave you that signature smirk and said, “It’s just a piece of jewelry so it's only right for me to wear it. Plus I like the way it feels around my finger. Relax."

You don't understand what goes through this man's head sometimes.

You want to scream. But Nari is in the living room playing tea party with her stuffed animals, so you hold it in.

Rhyel shows up with coffee, with her favorite snacks, with reasons to linger. He babysits when you’re tired, makes breakfast when you’re sick, and conveniently forgets to leave.

“Go home,” you tell him. “I am home,” he replies, casually sprawled on your couch like he pays rent (he actually secretly does and it always makes you confuse who pays the rent every month.).

But today? Today is the last straw. You finally said yes to a date—Mr. Charming from the office. One of your suitors—a decent guy, really—asked you out. You weren’t that interested, but you didn’t want to be rude by rejecting him immediately…so you agreed and planned to tell him after the dinner that you weren't interested on having a lover anymore. It’s just dinner. No sparks, no feelings. Just one night. The man booked a fancy restaurant, wore a nice suit, and pulled out your chair like a gentleman.

Everything was going…okay.

Until he showed up.

Dressed in a designer coat, hair perfect, watch probably worth more than your rent. Rhyel walked into the restaurant like he owned the place, and you choked on your food the moment your eyes met his smug face. You glared—glared—but he just smirked wider and walked straight to your table.

"What a coincidence," he said, casually slipping into the seat beside you, uninvited. You opened your mouth to protest, but he lifted the wine glass meant for you, sniffed it like a critic, and took a long sip.

Then he looked straight at your date and said in the most infuriatingly casual tone:

“I didn’t know goddesses started going on dates with monkeys these days.”

You froze. Your date blinked.

“Excuse me?” your date said, voice tight.

Rhyel shrugged. “Nothing. Just talking to myself. It must be the wine.”

You kicked him under the table.

He winced but didn’t move. “Violent. Just like our honeymoon in Paris, huh?” he muttered with a low chuckle.

You wanted to evaporate.