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Meine FrSche*ße. Ich bin der Typ geworden, der auf dem Grillabend über seine Füße redet. Freiwillig. Vor drei Monaten habe ich genau so einen Typen ausgelacht. Grillabend bei meinem Nachbarn. Bier, Bratwurst, sechs Männer. Einer erzählt von seiner Plantarfasziitis und irgendeiner japanischen Methode. Wir haben ihn ausgelacht. Japanische Fußmethode. Klar. „Hast du auch Kristalle zu Hause?" Ich habe am lautesten gelacht. Weil ich seit anderthalb Jahren dieselben sche*ß Schmerzen habe und den Mund halte. Jeden Morgen ein Nagel in der Ferse, acht Stunden Beton, Ibuprofen wie Smarties. Aber lachen ist leichter als zugeben. Der Gedanke ging trotzdem nicht weg. Freitagnacht, halb eins, google ich japanische Fußmethode. Auf dem Handy. Bildschirm ganz dunkel. Als würde ich was Verbotenes suchen. So weit ist es gekommen. Bin auf einen Artikel gestoßen. Eine Fußärztin erklärt, warum Einlagen und Spritzen bei chronischen Fällen gar nicht wirken können. Weil es irgendwann keine Entzündung mehr ist, sondern das Gewebe abbaut weil kaum Blut rankommt. Ab dem Punkt behandelt alles, was man verschrieben bekommt, ein Problem das gar nicht mehr existiert. Kein Arzt hat mir das je erklärt. Diese Frau in drei Minuten. Heimlich probiert. Zehn Minuten abends, Sofa. Und nach drei Wochen stehe ich morgens auf und gehe einfach los. Ohne Nagel, ohne Ibuprofen, ohne Zähne zusammenbeißen. Sche*ße. Es funktioniert. Nächster Grillabend. Der Typ grinst mich an: Na, ausprobiert? Nein, sage ich. Dreiste Lüge. Es steht seit drei Wochen in meinem Bad. Aber das sage ich nicht vor sechs Männern mit Bier in der Hand. Nicht nach dem, wie wir ihn ausgelacht haben. Bis ich es nicht mehr ausgehalten habe. Einem Kumpel erzählt. Dann noch einem. Und dann stand ich beim Grillen und habe über meine Füße geredet. Freiwillig. Genau wie der Typ, den ich ausgelacht habe. Irgendwann habe ich ihm gesagt: Du hattest recht. Sorry. Er hat nur gegrinst. Dann: Die kommen alle irgendwann. Hier ist der Artikel. Lach nicht drüber. Ich habe gelacht. Hat mich anderthalb Jahre gekostet. https://omnia-shop.eu/pages/landing-page-mar-16-14-25-05?_ab=0&key=1780603801059 50, Bau. War der Lauteste beim Lachen. Ist jetzt der Lauteste beim Erzählen.

Before that flight to Maui was confirmed, I'd mentioned countless times how I wanted to go on vacation with him. It wasn't until right before our sixth wedding anniversary that William finally booked two first-class tickets to Maui. I packed my bags with excitement, arranged everything, only to get a notification from the airline on the morning of our departure: the tickets had been canceled. I couldn't reach him on the phone, not even as the boarding gate closed. A few hours later, a video of William and his young ""VIP client"" holding hands on Waikiki Beach went viral on TikTok. I stood outside the terminal at Chicago O'Hare, in the sub-zero wind, and typed out the terms of our divorce agreement into my phone's notes with frozen fingers. The wind was brutal, but my heart was so completely frozen I couldn't feel a thing. … He reposted the viral video to his Instagram Story with a short statement: [Taking a much-needed break with a client who's been through a lot. Appreciate the privacy. 🙏] In the video, he smiled as he took a napkin from Vanessa, wiping away an açaí stain from the corner of her mouth with a look of doting affection I hadn't seen in years. I used to think that look was reserved only for me. In six years of marriage, I begged William countless times, but he always said the firm was too busy, that he had no time for me. Yet in the first year Vanessa was his client, he took her. That night, a polar vortex hit Chicago. A blizzard raged, and all flights were grounded. In the video, Hawaii was bright and sunny, the Pacific Ocean a stunning shade of blue. And I was trapped, stranded and alone in a paralyzed airport. I stood in the waiting area outside the terminal for a long time. My phone finally rang. It was William. His voice was casual, the sound of waves crashing in the background. ""The housekeeper said you're not home. Where'd you go so late?"" He paused, then added, ""I told you I'd be tied up this week. Don't go making this difficult."" Tied up? I watched the video of him and Vanessa on the beach, a chill running through my body. ""How are things over there? There's a blizzard in Chicago. Where are you?"" I said nothing. My silence must have annoyed him, because his voice turned impatient. ""What, you're just going to give me the silent treatment now?"" ""I'm at the airport."" Hearing those words, he paused, as if he finally remembered that today was the day we were supposed to fly to Maui together. ""Don't move. I'll have my driver come get you."" I didn't believe him, but my phone was about to die. The cold wind from Lake Michigan cut through my coat like a knife. I sat miserably on a bench by the curb, staring blankly at the falling snow. My phone battery only lasted two hours. William never messaged back before the screen went black. The last thing I saw was Vanessa's new Instagram post: ""While some people are stuck in the cold, I'm grateful for those who choose warmth. 🌺☀️ #Blessed #MentalHealthMatters"" The picture was a silhouette of him and her against a sunset. I laughed, suddenly feeling a sense of release I'd never felt before. Fine. I was stranded at the airport in a blizzard while he was with Vanessa, enjoying the tropical sun. I waited in the freezing wind all night, and he never contacted me again. I had spent six years of my marriage waiting for him to have a change of heart, even just once. But no one can wait for a lost ship at an airport. Enough time had passed. I was done waiting. 2:2 I eventually passed out from hypothermia in the blizzard and was taken to the emergency room. After getting an IV drip and a shot for my fever, I forced myself to go to the law firm. I heard William had already come back while I was unreachable. He'd caught the earliest flight back as soon as the blizzard let up. The moment I sat down in my cubicle, Benjamin, who specialized in divorce litigation, rolled his chair over. ""Samantha, you finally showed up. The big boss has been looking for you everywhere the past few days. He was furious."" I gave a faint smile. He was just scared I'd actually freeze to death in the blizzard, which would be hard to explain to the police and the media. After six years of marriage, we knew each other too well. If he cared about me even a little, he wouldn't have paraded Vanessa in front of me so openly, even bringing her to the firm to spite me. During lunch, William cornered me in the breakroom. ""What's your problem? I've been calling you for days and you haven't picked up."" I didn't speak, just went about making my coffee. ""How long are you going to keep this up?"" William grabbed my wrist, his voice low. ""I don't want to talk about this at the office, but this behavior is very unprofessional."" Thinking of the Marriage Settlement Agreement I'd printed out this morning, I didn't argue with him like I usually would. ""Don't worry, it won't happen again."" Because there wouldn't be a next time. Once we were divorced, we'd have nothing to do with each other. William paused, clearly not used to my compliance, and his tone softened slightly. ""Let's get steak tonight."" I didn't answer. He paused again, then said, ""I just passed by your desk and saw you organizing files for a divorce case."" ""Samantha, you're a criminal defense attorney. When did you start taking family court cases?"" I smiled. ""I haven't asked you where you've been the last few days, so don't ask me about my caseload."" He studied me for a moment, then lowered his voice. ""If you're taking side work, at least be discreet about it. Don't let the other partners see."" He thought the divorce agreement was a side job I'd taken for extra cash. I just smiled and didn't explain. After work, I received an OpenTable reservation confirmation from William. Anyone could see it was his way of compensating me. But it was too late. I put the printed agreement in my briefcase and got ready to meet him. Walking out of the office building, I saw Vanessa right away. She was wearing a Reformation wrap coat, clearly waiting for someone too. William's black Lincoln sedan glided past me and pulled up right beside her. Right in front of my eyes, Vanessa got into the car. She got the man she was waiting for. And I was, once again, the one left behind. But it didn't matter. I wouldn't be waiting anymore. I watched the taillights disappear into traffic. A moment later, a text from William came through. He was just telling me to wait for him in the lobby, that he had a last-minute meeting. I turned off my phone and hailed my own Uber to the restaurant. ""No, I'm not waiting for anyone. It's just me,"" I told the host. When I ordered, I specifically chose the spicy Cajun-style seafood. In the past, I'd always order something bland here, worried about affecting his performance the next day. This time, I didn't care about him. He wasn't coming anyway. Sure enough, when I left the restaurant at ten o'clock, there was still no word from William. Six years. In the list of his life's priorities, I was always last. 3:3 When I got back to our apartment on the Gold Coast, the living room light was on. William was sitting on the sofa. For six years, William had a lot of work events, and it was always me sitting in the living room, waiting for him with that single floor lamp on. When we first got married, he used to feel guilty that I waited up for him. Back then, I could still see a glimmer of tenderness in his eyes. It's a shame that tenderness only lasted for a year. And I held on to that faint memory for five more years. Later, William started to complain about me waiting up, accusing me of trying to meddle in his social life. He called me an insecure control freak. But I remembered clearly, during his years as a junior partner, he would always ask me to run interference and fend off drinks for him at important partner dinners. He used to call me his best teammate. I shook my head, pulling myself out of the memory. William's gaze was as cold as the ice on Lake Michigan. ""Samantha, you were almost out all night again."" I just grunted in response, taking off my heels. William narrowed his eyes, surprised by my cold reaction. ""Do you have any idea what day it is?"" I paused for a second. It was our sixth wedding anniversary. If things had gone as planned, we would be at the Waldorf Astoria in Maui right now. I had already contacted a friend there to book the best ocean-view restaurant. I thought we would have an unforgettable night. But he chose to take Vanessa instead. All my preparations had become a joke. ""I didn't prepare anything,"" I said softly. After all, we were about to sign divorce papers. Playing the part of a loving couple felt ridiculous. A flash of annoyance crossed William's face. He casually handed me a blue velvet box. ""Saw this on my way home. Just take a look."" I wasn't surprised. After standing me up so many times, according to his elite logic, he had to compensate with material things to balance the scales. That was William. He understood social norms, knew what was right and wrong. But for Vanessa, he would still choose the path that invited moral judgment. Maybe this was his way of expressing ""true love."" I took the gift box and tossed it onto the console table by the door. ""Thanks, I guess."" My polite response made his eyes flicker. He seemed completely unable to understand my detachment. ""I didn't make it tonight because something urgent came up with Vanessa..."" I cut him off. ""I don't need an explanation."" I genuinely didn't care, but William got annoyed and stood up. ""Are you ever going to let it go? Always making everything about you. Vanessa's case is being handled by our firm, and her father is a VIP client. I can't just ignore her, can I?"" I looked down, rummaging through my bag for the divorce agreement, and kept talking. ""Taking on a case that leads to a Hawaiian vacation and becoming TikTok's model couple. Attorney William's client care is truly dedicated."" William's brow furrowed, his face instantly darkening. It was an undeniable fact, so he could only stare at me with that usual, condescending look. He wanted me to back down and admit I was wrong. In the past, all he had to do was stay silent, and I would immediately start wondering if I had done something wrong, if I wasn't being considerate enough. I never questioned William's judgment. Deep down, I always thought it was because I wasn't good enough. But now, I just quietly kept searching for the agreement. There was no doubt William was a legal elite, but he didn't represent the truth. Stripped of that halo, he was just a vulgar and selfish man. It was my love that had gilded him, that had placed him on a pedestal. Now, the halo was shattered. I couldn't find the agreement. I probably left it at the restaurant. What a shame. ""You looking for something?"" William shifted, leaning closer to me. I pushed him away without another word. That night, I took a pillow and moved into the guest room. And for the first time in a long time, despite my chronic insomnia, I slept soundly."

"My mafia husband was opening a fresh box of condoms when a frantic knock suddenly came from outside the door. My ex-boyfriend. He was begging for another chance. The man in front of me pulled me closer, his voice low and possessive. ""Let him hear."" Then, his big d!ck thrusted into my p^ssy. ""Mmm... ah... slow down...""" He Loves Me Right, Finally Chapter 1 Let's Postpone the Marriage License "I'll marry you." Standing outside the closed doors of the City Hall, Wynette Jewell stared at the empty entrance and pulled out her phone. Today was the day she and Noah Shepherd were supposed to get their marriage license. She waited from 9 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. Noah never showed up. He was the one who suggested getting the license. Yet he was also the one who stood her up. This was the third time. Wynette finally gave up and immediately called Noah's biggest rival, Adriel Gallagher. She still remembered the first time she'd been left hanging at City Hall. That was when Adriel asked her to marry him. She turned him down. The second time ended the same way. Then this morning, Adriel texted her again. He asked her to marry him. This time, she said yes. Just minutes ago, she saw a new post on Instagram. From Noah's first love. In the photo, Noah sat upright at a table, carefully slicing an apple. The caption read, "Whenever I need him, he shows up. That's what being chosen feels like. That's my peace of mind." Wynette let out a quiet, mocking laugh. She tapped Like and commented, [Locked in for life. Wishing you two forever.] To her surprise, she felt nothing. In the past, she would've screenshotted it and stormed over to Noah, demanding an explanation. It would've turned into a vicious fight. It always ended with him slamming the door on his way out. But now, she didn't even have the energy to be angry. She really didn't want him anymore. A voice on the other end of the call pulled her back. "I'm on a business trip. I'll be back in a week. If you still want this, 9 a.m., I'll wait for you at City Hall." Adriel's words echoed in her ear. Only then did she realize why the man who once waited outside City Hall asking her to marry him had sent only a text today. A week. She wasn't stupid. He was giving her time—to deal with Noah and to back out if she changed her mind. "I'll wait for you," Wynette said softly. She hung up and drove home. She lived in a vintage condominium in the heart of downtown. When Noah found out, he bought the unit next door and knocked down the wall to combine the two into one. Even though they lived under the same roof, they each had their own space. When Noah bought the condominium, he put it under Wynette's name. She looked around the massive place. Every corner carried traces of their relationship—photos, matching couple items, and even the layout was designed to his taste. What once felt like happiness now felt like a joke. It took her only a few hours to gather everything related to her and Noah. She dumped it all in the storage room, planning to throw it out tomorrow. Staring at the now half-empty condominium, she called a realtor and told them to list it. If she were letting him go, there would be no reason to keep anything tied to him. "Yes. I don't care about the price. I just want it sold fast," she said firmly when the agent hesitated. "Sell what?" A familiar voice came from behind her. Wynette stiffened. She hung up and turned to see Noah—gone the entire day—standing there. "My friend's selling a house. She asked me to help," she replied casually. Then she noticed Lorelei Barlow standing behind him. Her expression darkened. Noah ignored Wynette's answer and said flatly, "Lorelei's depression relapsed. I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone, so she'll stay here for a few days. Clean up the guest room." As he spoke, Lorelei nervously clung to his arm, glancing at Wynette with timid eyes. "Noah, if it's inconvenient, forget it. Wynette doesn't seem very happy about it." One sentence, and the blame was already aimed at Wynette—who hadn't even said a word. Noah's face instantly turned cold. "Wynette, there's a limit to your tantrums. You know Lorelei isn't doing well, yet you left a comment like that under her post. "And now you won't even let her stay? When did you become so unreasonable? I don't like petty women." He didn't give her room to argue. "Don't forget, this is my home too. I have the right to let whoever I want stay here. I'm informing you, not asking for permission." Wynette hadn't said a single thing, yet she was already the villain. She almost laughed. "Do whatever you want." He must've forgotten; the condominium was in her name. But if he wanted Lorelei to stay, she had no interest in fighting over it. She turned and walked upstairs. With Lorelei around, Noah's attention would never land on her. Just like now—he didn't even explain why he missed the appointment. All he cared about was settling Lorelei in. He probably forgot they were supposed to get their marriage license today. Wynette no longer expected anything. After showering, she heard voices from the next room. Noah had given up the main bedroom to Lorelei. She felt nothing. Even if the two of them slept together, she wouldn't be surprised. She could accept it calmly. Once she let him go, the things she once couldn't tolerate no longer mattered. She truly didn't care anymore. She adjusted her mindset and soon drifted toward sleep. Just as she was about to fall asleep, she felt the mattress dip. A second later, she was pulled into a warm embrace. Her body stiffened slightly. Noah wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to miss today. Lorelei's condition is really serious. If I'd gotten there any later, she might not have made it. "Wynette, I'm the only one she has. I can't just abandon her. Let's postpone the license. When she gets better, we'll go get it. "I'll give you a grand wedding, I promise. While she's staying here, don't make things difficult. Let's focus on her first, okay? I'll make it up to you." He was delaying the marriage license again—because of Lorelei. Wynette stayed calm. A faint, mocking smile touched her lips. Every word was about Lorelei. Even when he lowered his voice, it was to make sure Lorelei wouldn't be bullied by her. She'd planned to pretend to be asleep, but being held by him made her feel sick. Quietly, she slipped out of his arms and turned her back to him. "What's between you and Lorelei isn't my business. Do whatever you want. You don't need to explain it to me." "Wynette." His tone carried irritation. To him, this was just her being jealous again. Whenever Lorelei was involved, Wynette always had that same sarcastic edge. He thought he'd already lowered himself enough. If she kept this up, it was childish. She heard the anger in his voice but didn't turn around. That only made him angrier. He flipped off the bed, face dark, about to lecture her. But before he could speak, the bedroom door flew open. A figure rushed in and hugged him tightly from behind.

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