I've realized that I'm living inside a novel.

The good news was, it's a romance novel, and I'm not the main character.

The bad news was my husband is one of the protagonists, and I am not.

One

I met Allen Lewis through a matchmaking arrangement.

My neighbor, a full-time housewife with money to spare, spent her days idly wandering around the neighborhood, keen on setting people up.

I initially intended to just go through the motions, but Allen truly had a deceivingly attractive exterior, aloof and distant.

A person like that still out matchmaking usually suggested a flaw somewhere of the physical kind.

"Hello, I'm Angela Reed."

Allen was sitting, so he looked up at me, his gaze inexplicably fierce, "Hello."

His reticence was a plus.

"Auntie mentioned you work in a state-owned enterprise. I'm quite envious—stable income, bright prospects and good benefits."

Allen paused while cutting his steak.

"I'm being straightforward here. It's matchmaking after all. I think our jobs and personalities complement each other well, shall we give it a try?"

Halfway through the meal, I realized I was at the wrong table. My neighbor had called me dozens of times, questioning why I stood her up.

I hung up the phone reluctantly, ready to leave when I couldn't help but ask Allen, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Allen fixed his gaze on me for a moment, "I'm here for matchmaking too."

"Sorry." I left to find my actual matchmaking partner, who was settling the bill.

"Can we use coupons here?" my intended date asked the server, who affirmed. "Your register doesn't show coupons right? Show them to the other customer when she arrive."

Without hesitation, I turned back to continue dining with Allen.

He seemed to smile when he saw me return, "Why come back?"

"Where's your date?" I asked.

"Stuck in traffic," Allen said casually, "said they couldn't make it."

I pulled out a chair and sat down, "Pretend I'm her."

Actually, there wasn't anything particularly impressive about Allen that day, but the comparison made him seem generous.

And from that day on, I always suspected Allen had some flaws, which later turned out to be his asexuality.

But now, it seemed the heroine is his cure.

Huh, so that can be cured.

Two

When I got home, Allen was there too.

Dressed in the ubiquitous white shirt and suit trousers, he didn't seem to have arrived much earlier than me.

This novel features five male leads: an artist, a puppy-like senior, a star, and one Allen.

From my experience with otome games, his archetype is the domineering CEO, a CEO pretending to be poor with me.

"Why are you so early today?"

He pulled a box out of his bag and handed it to me with one hand, "This is for you."

The moment Allen handed me the gift, I wondered if the heroine had received one too.

"It's beautiful. I love it." It was a pair of earrings.

I thought about it and looked him in the eyes, "Sapphires are expensive, aren't they?"

He remained impassive, not even blinking, "They're okay."

He better have actually spent real money on these genuine gems.

But I've always been bad at keeping things to myself, invisible when unseen, but in Allen's presence, I couldn't help but probe.

"Allen, today a friend told me her boyfriend pretended to be a rich second generation to deceive her. Speaking of which, it's all deception, but it's much easier to accept a rich guy pretending to be poor than a poor guy pretending to be rich, at least I can accept it."

Allen nodded slightly.

I was dissatisfied with his reaction and pressed, "What do you think?"

He lifted his eyelids to look at me, pulling my hand nonchalantly, "Imagining I'm a rich second generation?"

My heart skipped a beat, "Could you be one?"

"No." He leaned in close, his hand wrapping around me, his body heat seeping through the thin summer fabric.

I couldn't help but shrink back.

Allen's eyebrows quirked, his grip tightening, pulling me onto the couch, just as I was about to struggle, I heard him say lightly, "You've been off lately..."

My mind raced for excuses as his phone suddenly rang.

Allen answered it close to me, a slightly panicked female voice on the other end.

I didn't listen closely, only hearing Allen say okay before telling me, "I have to step out. I'll be back soon."

The warmth around my waist vanished, and the cold sweat in my hands stopped.

It was clear now, those two were bound to end up together.

What I needed to do was catch Allen cheating and then take half of his fortune.

I couldn't just let this damned plot leave me empty-handed.

I took a deep breath and followed him out.

Three

The taxi driver showed more excitement than usual.

But the rush hour traffic was terrible, and missing one traffic light meant losing him completely.

I hesitated for a moment, "Driver, please take me back to where I boarded."

It took at least half an hour to turn around, and just as I was about to get off at home, I received a call from an unknown number.

"Hello, your husband is suspected of fighting and has been detained, please—"

I hung up, muttering, "Scam calls are quite timely these days."

Then I received a text from the police station, asking me to bail someone out.

I closed the car door again.

"Little girl, aren't you getting out?"

"Go to the downtown police station."

"Ah, why suddenly go to the police station?"

I scoffed, "Go to send off my ex-husband."

It was completely dark by then, but the police station was still brightly lit. I had just stepped out and paid when another black car screeched to a halt right in front of me, skidding to a stop just inches from me.

The person who got out was much more anxious than me, "Don't block the way!"

The puppy-like senior, a star and an artist, I guess the other party in the fight is the star. Sure enough, there were three faces I recognized in the huge police station.

The delicate heroine, the peacock-like star, and Allen, frowning in a corner.

"My God! How did you end up fighting and getting dragged to the police station?" The agent sprinted to the star's side.

I picked up my phone.

"Click." I forgot to silence it.

Four

The agent yelled at me, "Delete it!"

Everyone looked at me, I looked at Allen, "The police called me to bail you out."

I really wanted to pretend for a while, to catch Allen cheating, but it was clear there was no tangible evidence of this kind of emotional cheating.

And me not throwing my phone in his face was a testament to my acting skills...

"Sorry, you must be Allen's wife." The heroine looked extremely apologetic, "Sorry to bother you."

Even though I knew I was part of their game, actually experiencing it felt disgusting.

"Knowing it's disturbing, why make the call?"

The heroine stood awkwardly frozen in place.

Allen stood up, "This is my friend, Emily White. This is my wife, Angela Reed."

The star sneered, "Oh, you have a wife."

I couldn't be bothered with them, followed the police to complete the procedures, snatched the car keys from Allen's hand, and went to drive myself. Allen watched wanting to say something but remained silent, just sitting in the passenger seat.

We had barely driven ten meters when that black car that nearly hit me blocked my way.

The window rolled down, the agent looking fierce, "Delete the photo!"

In that moment, all emotions—frustration, anger, mockery—vanished, and I felt unusually calm as I pressed the accelerator and "bam" hit the car.

Due to the short distance, the acceleration wasn't much, but it was enough to create a dent in the middle of the car.

Fortunately, after that crash, the world quieted down.

"Oh no, sorry."

My mom said I was a troublemaker from a young age, unpredictable. She was right.

Five

The agent trembled with rage, "You did that on purpose, for sure!"

The airbag, trapping him, looked quite safe.

In the precinct's premises, of course, I wouldn't admit it. I got out of the car and said concernedly, "Better call your insurance company quickly."

The star squinted over, commanding, "Delete the photo."

A celebrity fighting over a woman, causing a ruckus at the police station in the middle of the night. It sounded like expensive entertainment news.

Emily walked over, also urging me, "He's a public figure, such photos getting out could impact him negatively."

"Why would I take photos if it benefits him?" I puzzled.

Emily choked, "You feel wronged and think it's my fault, I apologize, but—"To be precise, I'm upset with them. It's nothing to do with you." I cut in, feeling more unsettled.

I had planned to act like a devoted wife at the precinct, but the agent's drifting scared that act away.

Emily looked at me, implacable, then turned to Allen, "Allen, could you let your wife delete the photo?"

Allen slightly tilted his head, "There is nothing that cannot be discussed with others."

The agent, the star, the heroine were speechless.

While I felt his character should be utterly devoted to the heroine, otherwise he'd be toast, I understood that Allen had always been an enigmatic figure.

Six

After our mix-up at the matchmaking, Allen and I met a few more times, hung out a few times, our relationship status remained unconfirmed, known but unspoken by both.

It was like a couple brought together to appease family and societal pressures.

The turning point came when my dad said a second marriage required a meal.

My dad was a habitual cheater. My mom couldn't stand it and chose divorce after my college entrance exams.

My mom, a dignified person, maintained normal relations even post-divorce. But my dad was disgraceful. His second spouse only five years older than me.

"Come on, Angela, toast your aunt," my dad cheered, waving his hands urging me.

I lifted my eyelids, motionless, until my mom nudged my sleeve, then I rolled my eyes and poured myself a glass of water.

Except for my foolish father, everyone present was embarrassed.

Suddenly his cell phone vibrated.

The aunt, seeing him busy, glanced at it, her face turning pale, lips trembling, "Husband, you seem to have tested positive for AIDS."