Seven-Day Affair: My Husband Wants the Intern

When Anthony Walker came to me with a divorce agreement, I was holed up in my studio at home, finishing a surprise for our seventh anniversary. It was an 86-by-55-inch oil painting I'd been working on for a month. I was down to the last two strokes.

"I'm leaving the divorce agreement here. If everything looks fine, sign it. Tanya's waiting for me at the door," he said.

My hand froze mid-stroke. I thought I'd misheard him. "What?"

Anthony frowned. "I'm divorcing you, but relax—it's only for seven days. After that, you'll still be my one and only wife."

The absurdity slammed into me so hard I could barely breathe. I opened my mouth to say something, but he didn't give me the chance.

"The day we got married, you promised to give me one chance to make a mistake. You're not going back on your word, are you?"

I had said that. However, I'd also said it didn't include cheating or falling out of love.

My chest ached like it was splitting open, but I clenched my teeth and tried to keep my dignity. "Does it have to be today?"

It was a stormy day, and it was our anniversary. Seven years ago, in weather just like this, Anthony had stepped into my world under a deep blue umbrella. I still remembered the smell of rain soaking into the ground and how the sixth rib of his umbrella had a spot of rust right in the middle.

Anthony clicked his tongue and shut the window, looking irritated. "Am I not being clear enough, Giselle? I'm not actually trying to leave you. I'm just doing this to please Tanya a bit. Once her birthday is over next week, I'll remarry you right away."

Someone knocked on the door. A young woman in a petal-print dress poked her head in. "Anthony, are you ready? Our movie's about to start."

It was Tanya Lindt. She pouted, and her full cheeks puffed out. She looked sweet, even when she was pretending to be mad.

"Alright, alright, princess. Give me another minute." Anthony ruffled her hair indulgently, then turned back to me. His expression instantly morphed into annoyance. "Do you see this? I've got things to do. Sign the agreement."

I dipped my brush in paint and asked again, quietly, "Does it have to be today?"

He paused for a few seconds, then laughed. "Seriously? Since when do you need to pick a date to get divorced?"

This time, I didn't argue. I picked up the pen and signed.

Anthony cleared the doorway just as I laid down the final stroke of my painting.

"Anthony," I called, making him stop. "Do you know that today is our seventh wedding anniversary?"

He said coolly, "I know. But Tanya is rushing me, and I don't want her to be upset."

The door slammed shut, but I still heard their voices carry down the hall.

One said, "Man, I hate this rain. My dress is ruined."

The other agreed. "Yeah. Damn this rain."