The front door of my house is a portal through time. One moment, I open it and see my husband as he was seven years ago, newly married and full of reckless passion. The next, he’s the man he is today: mature, composed, a master of his craft. I found myself with both a hot-headed boy-toy and a sophisticated, worldly Daddy. And when you stumble upon something this good, you keep it to yourself. I thought I had my secret perfectly under wraps, until I overheard my husband, Liam, talking to his secretary. "Why haven't you found him yet? The other man." "Does she hide him so well because she loves him more?" "Is it because he's younger?" "Find him," Liam’s voice commanded, strained with a desperate edge. "I don't care what it costs, find that bastard." The secretary had almost reached the door when Liam called him back. His voice was a raw mix of despair and surrender. "And don't let my wife know." 1 I stumbled home after a business trip, so exhausted I collapsed onto the sofa the moment I walked through the door. When I woke up, the sky was dark. Liam was curled around me, his arm draped protectively over my waist. I studied his face in the dim light. I didn't know when it had started, but Liam had become busier, more serious, more… distant. We rarely did silly things like fall asleep together on the sofa anymore. The idea that love deepens with time? Maybe that was always a lie. A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. "You're awake. Let's get some dinner." I tilted my head back and met his gaze. His eyes were burning with an intensity that was almost… unfamiliar. My hand instinctively went to his hair, smoothing it down. He leaned into my touch like a contented puppy. But wait. I'd only been gone for a week. How could his hair have grown this long? Before I could puzzle it out, his lips were on mine, kissing me with a raw hunger that felt like he wanted to devour me whole. When I finally managed to gasp for breath, I pushed him away and sat up. That's when I saw it. The room. This was our first apartment. The one we lived in seven years ago. The painting by the door was one we'd hung right after our wedding, and it had only stayed up for a few months. The appliances, the furniture—it was all from that time. I lifted Liam's shirt. The skin on his right side was smooth, unblemished. The jagged scar he'd gotten saving me from that car accident wasn't there. I had actually traveled back in time. I turned back to him, and he was already taking off his pants. My first instinct was to run. Liam grabbed my ankle, pulling me back into his arms. "Liam, wait. I need to ask you something." "Nope," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "You were just touching me, teasing me. Whatever it is, it can wait." "I just lifted your shirt! How is that teasing?" His mouth was closing in again. I pressed my hand against his lips, my voice firm. "No, you have to answer. How many days have we been married?" A look of delighted surprise lit up his eyes. "Ninety-nine. Is there a reward?" I met his hopeful gaze and swallowed the words I was about to say. "I guess you could say that." ... The next morning, I woke up staring at the ceiling, my body aching in places I'd forgotten could ache. Now I understood the true meaning of "youthful vigor." It took another nap before I could finally drag myself out of bed. I wandered through the apartment, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. So many of these things were gone in seven years. I wasn't in a hurry to go back. I was here now. Might as well enjoy it. The twenty-three-year-old Liam was so much easier to handle than his thirty-year-old counterpart. I could get him to agree to almost anything with a little sweet talk and a pout. The older Liam was a fortress of logic and suspicion, his mind a complex honeycomb of defenses. Youth was so much better. Full of energy, and so delightfully gullible. With a young, sweet husband to dote on me, who needed the old man at home? 2 I came home laden with shopping bags, a spring in my step. A young, pliable husband was the perfect subject for a few… experiments. I opened the door and saw him sitting on the sofa. My heart sank. It was the thirty-year-old Liam. The smile froze on my face. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out. Liam's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'?" I panicked and slammed the door shut. Wrong way to open it. I closed my eyes, picturing the younger Liam. I opened the door again. Still the older one. I tried again. And again. After several failed attempts, I gave up. Liam was already at the door. He pulled me inside, pinning me against the wall. "Explain yourself. What did you mean by that?" I looked down, playing dumb. "Nothing. You misheard me. I meant, 'what are you doing home so early'." He didn't look convinced. I stood on my toes and peppered his face with kisses. "I'm hungry. Let's eat~" Liam gave me a long, searching look, but decided to let it go. For now. He reached for the bags in my hands. My body moved faster than my brain. I clutched the bags and took a step back. The contents were for the younger Liam. If the older one saw them, I was done for. "I can get it. Just move." He stood his ground, his eyes fixed on me. My heart hammered against my ribs. Just when I thought I was going to have a heart attack, he stepped aside. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. When I came out of the shower, Liam was on the balcony, reading through some documents. I toweled my hair as I approached. "Why aren't you working in the study?" He put the documents down, and I saw that his bathrobe was hanging open. A step closer and I could smell that unique, crisp scent of his. He must have showered in the guest bathroom while I was in the master. If the younger Liam was overtly seductive, the older one was a master of subtle temptation. He wanted to conquer not just your body, but your mind as well. And while I was a sucker for it, I was determined not to be so easily swayed this time. Seeing my lack of reaction, Liam slowly took off his gold-rimmed glasses. The simple gesture sent a jolt of electricity through me. He took my wrist and pulled me into his lap. I wasn't as good at pretending as he was. I couldn't resist. I grabbed his head and kissed him, a desperate, hungry kiss. He just wrapped his arms around my waist, letting me do as I pleased. When I finally pulled away, breathless, I could have sworn I heard him sigh in relief. He shifted me in his lap so I was facing him directly. I looked at him, confused. He smiled, and from behind his back, he produced two shopping bags. The ones I had brought home. I swallowed hard. "What are you doing with those?" His hand tightened on my waist. There was no escape. He ignored my question and started pulling things out of the bag. He held up a small, lacy piece of fabric. "What's this? Is it for me?" "If you li—" I caught myself and shook my head violently, grabbing his hand. "That's not for you." Are you kidding me? The thirty-year-old Liam in that? I wasn't suicidal. His face fell. He ground his teeth, forcing out the words. "If it's not for me, then who is it for?" 3 A chill ran down my spine. "It's for me. It's a matching set. The salesclerk must have given me the wrong one." The lie hung in the air. Liam's face was still a mask of cold fury. He scrutinized me, his eyes sharp and piercing. In a different context, that look would have been incredibly hot. A real daddy vibe. I couldn't help but lean in and kiss him. "That's the look. It's so hot. I've got inspiration. I have to go draw." The mention of work made him instinctively loosen his grip. But then he caught my waist again. "Tomorrow night, I want to see this 'mistake'." I mumbled an agreement and ran to the study. Inspiration was fleeting. Seven hours later, I finally looked up from my drawing. It was a masterpiece, if I did say so myself. I tweaked a few details, pulling an all-nighter without even realizing it. I don't remember how I got to bed, but when I woke up, it was already afternoon. Liam would be home in three hours. I threw on some clothes and rushed out, finally finding a store that sold a similar women's version of the lingerie. I got home just before he did. The moment I opened the door, he pulled me into his arms. "Honey, you're finally back." The word "honey" told me everything. It was the twenty-three-year-old Liam. I almost cried with relief. Evasion was cowardly, but it was also effective. I hugged him tightly. "Oh, Liam, you're so much better." He stiffened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but I was too relieved to notice. He shifted, and his foot knocked over one of the shopping bags. The contents spilled out. Liam quickly picked it up. He stared at the flimsy piece of fabric, stunned. "Honey, why did you buy this?" A slow smile spread across his face. "Is this my hundred-day anniversary present?" "Yes," I lied, my heart weeping silently. This was supposed to be my present. I looked at his beautiful, youthful face. The gambler in me took over. I pulled away from him. "I'll be right back." "Will you… be back tonight?" "I'll try," I said distractedly, my mind already mapping out the quickest route to another store. Behind me, the color drained from Liam's face. He pulled out his phone. The anniversary counter on his wallpaper had already ticked over to 101 days. I had forgotten I was in the past. It took me hours to find something suitable. When I finally got back, I took a deep breath before opening the door. But it swung open before I could touch it. Liam was there, looking like a wounded puppy. He bent down, burying his face in my shoulder. I sighed in relief. It was the younger Liam. He didn't say anything, just held me tighter. "What's wrong? Did I make you wait too long? It's because…" He cut me off with a kiss. "I don't want to hear it…" 4 Before Liam went into the bathroom, I handed him the paper bag. "Baby, can you wear this for me?" He peeked inside and agreed without hesitation. "Of course. Anything for you." I couldn't help but giggle as I pushed him into the bathroom. Young guys were so easy. When he came out, he was a little shy, fidgeting awkwardly. God, I loved it. I circled him, admiring the view. "It's perfect," I breathed. I sometimes drew risqué original characters for my online portfolio. There was always one comment that got a lot of likes: "Hey, draw something dirtier." I had. More than one. I couldn't post them, but I could admire them in private. And I had clearly, subconsciously, used Liam as my model. His body was more perfect than any 2D character. After admiring him from every angle, I realized his expression was blank. He seemed to have zoned out. He must have misunderstood. "I mean, you look just like my drawing." The light returned to his eyes. "Just a drawing? Can I see it?" I refused instantly. There was no way I was showing him those. I barely dared to look at them myself, and only as a reward after a long day of work. "I drew them a long time ago. I deleted them." His eyelashes fluttered. It took him a moment to find his voice. "Oh. Okay." I stood on my toes and kissed him. "Baby, shouldn't we be getting down to business?" He seemed rooted to the spot. "Am I… not mature enough sometimes?" He must have had a bad day at work. I shook my head. "Don't think like that. Being young has its advantages." "You might not have the money, the experience, or the social skills yet, but you have youth. And trust me, you'll grow into all of that. You'll be amazing. And hey," I whispered, "I'll let you in on a little secret. Your company is going to go public in five years." He didn't look comforted. "And you? Do you prefer the mature type?" My hands wandered to the lace trim on his new outfit. "Not at all. I like you just the way you are. When you're all mature and serious, you won't play these little games with me anymore." A look of understanding dawned on his face. He pressed his forehead against mine. "Okay. I get it. Whatever you want me to be, I can be." ... For a week, I avoided the front door, terrified of being thrown back into the future. On the eighth day, I couldn't resist ordering a small cake. The moment I opened the door to get the delivery, I was back. Seven years in the future. 5 I ran to the mirror. Thankfully, no marks. Still, a strange sense of guilt washed over me. It was almost time for Liam to get home from work. I changed my clothes and decided to go pick him up. The top floor of his office building was silent, everyone hunched over their desks, trying to be invisible. I walked all the way to his office without anyone noticing me. "Why haven't you found him yet? The other man." It was Liam's voice. My hand froze on the doorknob. I ducked into a nearby alcove and listened. "He's probably younger than me. My wife has a thing for good-looking men. We can rule out anyone ugly." His secretary's voice trembled. "Sir, these are all the people your wife has been in contact with recently. The man you're describing isn't on the list. Are you sure you're not just… under a lot of pressure lately?" Liam's voice was tight with suppressed rage. "Impossible. I know her. Her eyes used to only be on me. Now, there's someone else in them." "Do you think she hides him so well because he's younger? Am I old?" His voice cracked. "That's right. I'm thirty. I can't turn back time." The secretary, though timid, had a sharp tongue. "Sir, have you seen a doctor? These symptoms sound like… early-onset menopause." A loud thud. Liam had thrown something. "He exists. Find him. I don't care what it costs." The secretary turned to leave, but Liam called him back. He closed his eyes, his voice a mix of despair and surrender. "Don't let my wife know." I saw the secretary coming and quickly moved to the door, pretending I had just arrived. He looked surprised to see me, then followed me to open the door, knocking first. "Sir, your wife is here." He smiled at me and left. Inside, Liam was back to his usual dapper self. If I hadn't heard it with my own ears, I would have thought I'd imagined the whole thing. He stood up. "I came to pick you up," I explained. He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "A sudden burst of concern, born from guilt." He was too far away for me to read his lips. "What did you say?" He quickly composed himself. "Nothing. I still have work to do. You can wait in the lounge." I didn't argue. I needed a moment to process everything. Lying on the lounge sofa, my mind was a mess. Liam thought I was cheating on him. After all these years, he was the only man I had ever loved. If it weren't for him, I probably would have never gotten married. He had crashed into my life when I was at my lowest point. I was lying on the ground after a car accident, and he appeared, a silhouette against the blinding light. The first thing he said to me was: "I'm in the middle of starting a business, and I'm millions in debt to the bank. If you try to blackmail me, I'll take you down with me." Maybe it was the concussion, but I thought I saw stars around him. The image was burned into my memory. As soon as I recovered, I painted the picture that launched my career. From then on, it was like a switch had been flipped. My career took off. You don't betray your muse. I could never betray him. Of course, falling for the twenty-three-year-old version of him didn't count. That was just human nature. I replayed some of our recent conversations in my head. I must have said something careless that made him suspicious. I decided to apologize to him tonight. But would he believe me if I told him I had been traveling back in time?
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