She left me because of that "friend"

Hunter sat in his sleek, glass-walled office, the skyline of the city stretching out before him. The sound of his pen scratching against paper filled the room as he signed one document after another. His brow was furrowed, his focus razor-sharp—until his phone buzzed on the desk. 

He glanced at the screen and groaned. It was his best friend, Jake. 

“Great,” Hunter muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before reluctantly answering. “What do you want?”

Jake’s voice boomed on the other end, loud and unapologetic. “Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour! Mr. Divorced and Loving It! How’s it feel to be single again, buddy?”

Hunter scowled, leaning back in his chair. “Jake, I’m busy. Do you ever stop talking nonsense?”

“Busy? Come on, don’t tell me you’re already signing another prenup! Give it a week, at least,” Jake teased, laughing at his own joke. 

“Jake, I’m hanging up,” Hunter warned, his voice clipped. 

“Wait, wait! I’m just saying—think of the possibilities! No nagging, no compromises, no—”

Click.

Hunter ended the call and tossed the phone onto his desk with a sigh of irritation. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as his assistant poked her head into the office. 

“Mr. Caldwell,” she said carefully, holding a tablet, “just a reminder that you have an appointment at City Hall this afternoon.”

He glanced at her, his expression bored. “What for?”

“It’s regarding the legal formalities related to Mrs. Caldwell—uh, Evelyn and your divorce. Did you forget?” she asked, stumbling over the name.

Hunter waved a dismissive hand. “Right, fine. I’ll go.”

As she retreated, Hunter leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. He let out a long, frustrated sigh. 

Evelyn. Always so dramatic, so full of tantrums. This whole divorce thing was probably just another one of her phases. She always acted out, and when he ignored her long enough, she came around. 

“She’ll calm down,” he always muttered to himself. “She always does.”

But not anymore. Nothing he expected happened. She didn't came back like she always did. 

And deep down, there was an itch of uncertainty he couldn’t quite shake. Something felt... different this time. Yet, as always, Hunter brushed it off. He had more important things to worry about. Or so he thought. 

Hunter was reviewing the final document on his desk when his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen and saw a name he trusted implicitly: Mason, his private investigator that he has tailed after Evelyn. 

With a sigh, he picked up the call, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear as he flipped through the pages.

“This better be important, Mason,” Hunter said curtly.

“Oh, it is,” Mason replied, his tone calm but laced with intrigue. “Thought you’d want to know what your ex-wife’s been up to.”

Hunter frowned, his grip on the pen tightening. “What are you talking about?”

“Well,” Mason continued, “I just saw Mrs. Caldwell —uh, Evelyn—out with some friends. Looked like a party. She seemed... very happy.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched. “Friends?”

“Yes,” Mason said carefully, “and she wasn’t alone. She was with a man—a very... close man.”

Hunter shot up from his chair, the pen clattering onto the desk. His voice dropped into a low, dangerous tone. “What do you mean close?”

“They seemed comfortable, intimate even,” Mason explained. “Laughing, talking. From what I gathered, they’ve known each other a while. Childhood friends, apparently.”

Hunter’s mind raced as Mason continued, oblivious to the storm brewing on the other end of the line. 

“The guy’s no small fry either,” Mason added. “He’s a well-known jewelry designer and even dabbles in sports acting. The name’s Edwin. Sound familiar?”

Hunter’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. He felt a heat rising in his chest, threatening to boil over. 

“Edwin,” he spat. “Her childhood friend? Unbelievable. So, she’s already pouncing on another man?”

Mason hesitated. “I don’t know about that, but—”

“That’s enough,” Hunter snapped, cutting him off and hanging up. He stood frozen for a moment, his breathing heavy, his thoughts spiraling out of control.  

Evelyn. Partying. Smiling. With another man. 

He stalked to the window, staring out at the skyline, but all he could see was red. 

“So this is how it is,” he muttered, his voice venomous. “Was she just waiting for the right moment to leave? Or was this planned all along? Smiling in my face, playing the good wife, while plotting to run to him?”

The thought of her—*his wife*—laughing and enjoying herself with another man made his stomach twist. She was supposed to be miserable, wallowing in regret, begging for forgiveness. Instead, she was out there acting as though none of it mattered. As though *he* didn’t matter. 

Hunter slammed his fist onto the desk, rattling the neatly arranged documents. 

“That’s why she wanted the divorce so badly,” he growled to himself. “Not because of anything I did. No, it’s because of him.”

The image of Edwin flashed in his mind—some polished, successful designer, probably charming her with ease. And Evelyn, smiling at him like she never had at Hunter, as if this Edwin had been what she wanted all along.

His teeth clenched. “If she thinks she’s going to humiliate me like this, she has another thing coming.” 

For the first time, he felt something deeper than anger—an almost desperate need to remind Evelyn exactly who she had left behind. And if she thought she could just walk away and find happiness so easily, Hunter vowed to make her regret underestimating him.