After a decade in a stifling marriage, I finally took the leap and left. Want to make me feel like trash? Fine. News flash: As long as you hate yourself, you’re going to hate any and everyone who crosses your path.

I can’t love Chase enough for the both of us, and I’m done trying.

I’ve moved on to a new city, a new job, and a new beginning. Not in the plan: a new manslut coworker. My gosh, he’s EVERYWHERE. And it’s not just work. He’s in my best friend’s wedding, in my office, in my copy room, in my grocery store, in my mothereffing women’s bathroom (No, I do not care if yours is closed for cleaning. Get out!).

Leo is everything I vowed to avoid. Our forced proximity only fuels the tension, and we clash at every turn. He's buried his own pain under a frat-boy persona and meaningless flings, while I'm still reeling from years of emotional trauma and self-preservation.

Despite our best efforts, the more time we spend together, the more our walls begin to crumble, revealing the vulnerability and hurt beneath. I don’t need any man to heal or complete me, but do I want this man to love me? Maybe.