Divorce Manual

Chapter 47

No. I know his ideal type.

I know it so well.

Of course, it is Abigail.

She, the heroine, must be his ideal type.

So, shouldn't you have fallen in love with her at first sight?

Then, I go the exact opposite of Abigail.

But—What about Abigail?

I tilt my head and raise my chin.

In the novel, it didn't explain what kind of person Abigail is. I just understood the character while reading.

One-line explanation is difficult, but if I am to look back roughly at my memory...

Like the heroine of a romance novel, she was beautiful and wise, and she never overlooked neighbor through a difficult time. She was good enough to be called a saint.

Her appearance is—

[Her brown hair twisted in a half bun was lovely. The tip of her hair flowing along her soft shoulder line seemed to be heavy, so I always wanted to touch it. The young blush on her cheeks was lovely, and everything about her came into my eyes and struck me in my chest. My heart was shaken and dizzy.]

Charles described the moment he saw her for the first time.

"... "

She was the exact opposite of Abella's imprint.

Even though Abigail was beyond her imprint, her loveliness seemed to drop from the sentence itself.

But our Abella?

The impression is that she's very fierce.

Inside, the mirror hangs on one side of the dining room.

I glance at my face that looks sharp even at a glance.

There's no colder beauty.

If there are strengths and weaknesses in beauty, Abigail's beauty belongs to the weak category for how fragile it is. Does Abella have a face that can overcome even the hot sun?

Anyway, the two were equally beautiful, but the blue print was different.

Nevertheless—

'My style is you.'

I wink at my face in the mirror as I twist my legs and cross my arms.

The baseline of our appearance is completely different.

Then let's take action.

First of all—

At that moment,

"Your Grace."

As if breaking the silent silence,

"Are you sick again?"

Lejan come through the dining room door and stands in front of me.

As expected, a cigarette that hasn't lit is in between his teeth, and his bag hangs on his right side.

You look just like you did a few days ago.

"...What?"

I blink.

I couldn't understand why he's here again, and it shows on my face.

"What?"

Slightly embarrassed, he scratches the back of his neck.