Listing My Ex

I'm Freya Upton. Today, I specially made some soup to bring to my husband Quentin Hill's company. He's been busy with a big project lately, often working late into the night. I thought it would help him recover. The receptionist recognized me so didn't stop me, so I walked straight to his office. The office door wasn't fully closed. I was about to knock when I saw his secretary, Marianne Ray, standing by his desk with her back to me. Quentin was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, as if he was resting. I quieted my steps, not wanting to disturb them, but the next second, Marianne's move made my blood run cold. She pulled a sticky QR code from her pocket, gently brought it up to my forehead, and carefully stuck it on. I was stunned for two seconds before I snapped back, suddenly raising my hand to tear it off. "What are you doing?" My voice trembled with uncontrollable anger. Marianne's face showed a flicker of panic before quickly switching to an innocent expression. Quentin was also awakened, opened his eyes, saw me, and frowned, "Freya? What are you doing here?" "Look what your secretary did to me!" I pointed to my forehead. "Look what she stuck on me!" People in the surrounding office heard the commotion and started poking their heads out, crowding around to watch. Marianne's eyes reddened as she said, hurt, "Ms. Upton, I was just joking with you. Please don't be angry." "Joking?" I laughed in anger and reached to tear off the QR code on my forehead, but the adhesive was strong, and pulling it hurt my skin. "Have you ever seen a joke where someone sticks a 'Damaged goods on clearance' label on another person's forehead?" The angrier I got, my gaze swept over Quentin, but then I suddenly noticed a clear character "M" on his collarbone, exposed under his unbuttoned shirt. My heart sank straight to the bottom of a valley. Quentin is seriously obsessed with cleanliness; not to mention writing on his body, even if there's a tiny stain on his clothes, he has to change immediately. "Quentin, what's going on with the writing on your collarbone?" I stared at the writing, my voice tightening. Quentin instinctively pulled his shirt closer, his tone carrying a barely noticeable hint of defensiveness: "It was just some playful messing around, nothing serious." Quentin said to Marianne, "Alright, you go ahead, I'll handle things here." Marianne looked at Quentin with a hint of grievance, then slowly walked away, not forgetting to cast me a provocative glance from the corner of her eye as she left. "Freya, don't make a fuss," Quentin said, his voice edged with impatience. "She's just out of college, inexperienced—just joking around." "Joking?" I pulled my hand away from his. "Humiliating me in public, treating me like damaged goods on clearance — sticking a price tag on me — you call that a joke? Letting her use you as a damn billboard — you call that a joke too?" Quentin frowned, his voice stiff. "I told you, it was just for fun. Why are you blowing this out of proportion?"