“You’re not the boss here! And you don’t get to teach me how to raise sons either. These are my walls, my business, and my children—after all. Who do you think you are, Hasan Muratovich?” I snapped out in an icy tone.
“Remember, woman: men decide,” he said harshly.
“Is that so? We’ll see…”
“Divorce isn’t the end of the world, and children aren’t an obstacle for a cool, bearded man to appear in your life,” my friend said confidently. She should’ve kept quiet. Because he really did show up: arrogant, bearded, huge—someone used to pressing down and ordering people around. And somehow he’s convinced he has the right to decide for me.
I’m a divorced woman with two kids. Hasan Aliyev is a widower raising a teenage son on his own. We’re tied together by one thing—we share the same place, a shared business, and an instant dislike that arose at first sight.
And least of all I want to fall in love with him. Only not this…