1 I woke up to find a devastatingly handsome guy slumped over the side of my bed. Before I could even process the sheer force of his good looks, he opened his mouth. "Mom." My brain short-circuited. "Oh my god," I blurted out. "You're a gamer too?" His expression turned thunderous. "I'm your son." 2 Seeing the disbelief on my face, he sighed, a world-weary sound. "Mom, stop messing around." He closed his eyes. I couldn't tell if he'd fallen asleep or just died of exasperation. Between believing I'd somehow spawned a fully-grown adult son at the age of twenty and believing he was a gamer who'd lost his mind, I was leaning heavily toward the latter. I shook my head frantically. "I don't have a son this old." He gave me a look that was a complex cocktail of pity and frustration. "You're forty. Is it really that weird to have a son my age?" I waved my hands in front of my face as if to ward off his words. "Impossible. I just celebrated my twentieth birthday yesterday. Did I blow out the candles and fast-forward two decades?" He frowned and held up his phone, the front-facing camera aimed at me. The woman on the screen had fine lines around her eyes and mouth. It was undeniably me, but a version of me that had been aged by twenty years. I touched my face, again and again, the reality sinking in like a stone. "Did I... time travel?" One night's sleep, and I'd jumped from twenty to forty, with a bonus giant-sized son. It took a long, long time to wrap my head around it. "Who's your dad?" I finally managed to ask, my voice hoarse. At the mention of his father, a flicker of disgust crossed his face. He spat out a name like it was poison. "Evan." Evan. The guy I'd had a massive crush on for years in college. Suddenly, my son's handsome face clicked into place. The elegant lines of his eyes and brows were a mirror image of Evan's. But he had my softer features, tempering the sharp angles he'd inherited from his father. So, twenty years from now, my dream had come true. I'd not only married Evan, but we had a son this old. Meeting my future son for the first time was... awkward. I started interrogating him like a census taker: name, age, where he went to school. He answered every question patiently. His name was Leo. He was seventeen, a senior at Northwood High. Doing the math, I must have had him right after I graduated college. I tried to lighten the mood, teasing him like he was a little kid. "So, Leo, who do you like more? Mommy or Daddy?" His face fell instantly. "I can handle you having amnesia, Mom. I can't handle you being an idiot." "..." 3 Apparently, forty-year-old me had taken a tumble down the stairs, which is how I ended up in the hospital. Leo just assumed I had amnesia and that's why I didn't recognize him. When I brought up Evan, that flicker of disgust was back. "Don't talk about him. He's bad luck." So, not the best father-son relationship, then. The doctors gave me a clean bill of health, so Leo checked me out of the hospital. The world had changed completely in twenty years. When we got to his—our—home, I felt like a country bumpkin on her first trip to the big city. It was a sprawling penthouse apartment with a panoramic view of the river. I couldn't have even dreamed of being this wealthy in twenty years. Looking at a living room big enough to play badminton in, I suddenly felt a sense of relief. Maybe the universe wasn't so bad to me after all. I'd just skipped twenty years of hard work. I wandered through the apartment, but there was no sign of Evan anywhere. I didn't think much of it. The last I remembered, he was just starting his own business. It looked like he'd been successful. CEOs are busy. I could understand. Forty-year-old me was a lady of leisure, with time and money to burn. Twenty-year-old me was a broke college student. My first instinct upon striking it rich? Revenge spending. When I'd first seen my reflection, I was horrified. I looked haggard and neglected. I'd always been someone who took pride in my appearance. I couldn't stand looking like this. I went on a spree: facials, manicures, a whole new wardrobe. It was only when I looked in the mirror and saw a completely transformed woman that I was satisfied. I snapped a few selfies, wanting to share them with my best friend, only to realize I didn't have her number in my new phone. 4 It was late when I got home. Leo wasn't there, and he wasn't answering his phone. A high school kid—where could he be after school? I went out to find him. Even though in reality, he was only a couple of years younger than me, in my mind, he was my son, a kid I needed to look out for. Just as I got to the entrance of our building, I saw him walking up, still in his school uniform. "Where have you been?" I asked, grabbing his arm. He didn't say anything. It wasn't until we were inside, under the bright lights of the lobby, that I saw the bruises on his face. "Did you get into a fight?" I reached out to touch his cheek. He turned his head away. "I fell." I didn't believe him for a second. You don't get bruises like that from falling. He was stubborn, just like me. Once he'd made up his mind not to talk, there was no getting it out of him. To find out what was going on, I decided to follow him. The next day, I staked out his school. When the final bell rang, students poured out of the gates in a massive wave. I spotted Leo immediately. Call it a mother's bias, but he stood out from the crowd, a head taller and more handsome than anyone else. A small swell of pride rose in my chest. I had good taste—a handsome husband, an even more handsome son. He hadn't gotten far from the school when a group of boys in the same uniform surrounded him. They grabbed him and dragged him away. 5 My heart leaped into my throat. I grabbed the baseball bat from the trunk of my car and followed them. They pulled Leo into a deserted alley. The leader of the group got in his face. I couldn't hear what he said, but it made Leo see red. He threw a punch, hitting the kid square in the jaw. The rest of the group was about to jump Leo when I stepped in front of him, bat in hand. "Everybody freeze! Who taught you to bully your classmates?" Leo's eyes widened when he saw me, a reflexive "Mom" escaping his lips. When the leader heard it, his face twisted into an ugly sneer. "So your mommy's here?" he spat. "Doesn't matter. I'll still beat the crap out of you!" I swung the bat and connected with the kid's leg. The arrogant punk crumpled to the ground, howling in pain. The others saw their leader go down and surged forward, ready for revenge. I shoved the bat into Leo's hands. "Son, hit him!" Leo looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I leaned in and whispered, "I already called the cops. You're a minor. You won't get in serious trouble." With the bat, the other boys couldn't get close to him. But there were too many of them. Leo was quickly overwhelmed. I saw one of them pick up a rock, ready to bring it down on Leo's head. Without a second thought, I threw myself in front of him, shielding him with my body. I braced for the impact, but the pain never came. The police had arrived. 6 At the police station, we were all taken in for statements. Leo and I should have been the victims, but because I'd brought a baseball bat, the incident was classified as a mutual affray. Luckily, no one was seriously injured. After a stern lecture, we were told we could leave after posting bail and having someone come sign for us. The problem was, who could we call? My first instinct was to call Evan, but Leo stopped me. His lips were pressed into a thin, hard line. "Don't call him." I knew their relationship was strained, so I didn't push it. "Then who?" After a long moment, Leo dialed a number. My best friend Chloe's voice came through the phone. Hearing my son call her "Aunt Chloe," the knot of anxiety in my chest finally loosened. I'd been worried when I couldn't find her contact in my phone, thinking maybe we'd had a falling out. It seemed that wasn't the case. We sat and waited for Chloe. One by one, the other families came and went, until it was just us and the leader of the other boys. "What's taking Chloe so long?" I grumbled. Leo looked at me, a strange expression on his face, but he didn't say anything. I was scrolling through videos on my phone when I sensed someone approaching. I looked up. Evan. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. He looked older, more mature than the boy I remembered, with a quiet, powerful presence. He was exactly how I'd imagined a CEO version of him would be. A smile bloomed on my face, and I was about to greet him when I saw him walk right past us and over to the other boy. He frowned slightly, ruffling the boy's hair. "What did you do to end up in a police station?" I was about to tell him he had the wrong son when Leo grabbed my hand. His eyes were hard and stubborn. He shook his head. "Don't. He has nothing to do with us." 7 It was only then that Evan seemed to notice us. His brow furrowed. "What are you two doing here?" Before I could speak, the other boy beat me to it. In front of Evan, his earlier arrogance was gone, replaced by a pitiable, wronged expression. He tugged on Evan's sleeve. "Dad, I know Leo doesn't like me. It's okay that Aunt Cathy hit me for him. Please don't be mad at them." The kid was a master manipulator, and Evan fell for it hook, line, and sinker. His face darkened with anger. "Cathy, you're a grown woman. Are you really going to pick on a child? Apologize to Julian right now!" I gave him a slow, deliberate once-over, then let out a cold laugh. Evan's frown deepened. "This is between you and me. Why are you taking it out on a kid?" And just like that, I understood everything that had happened in the last twenty years. Evan had been cheating on me for years, and he even let his illegitimate son bully our son. The realization hit me like a physical blow. I raised my hand and slapped him, hard, across the face. "Who do you think you are?" He'd clearly never been hit by the forty-year-old me before. Disbelief warred with rage in his eyes. "Cathy, are you insane?" The slap was so sudden that even Leo looked shocked. But he recovered quickly, stepping in front of me protectively. Julian, of course, seized the opportunity to add fuel to the fire. "Aunt Cathy, even if you don't like me and my mom, you can't treat Dad like this!" I turned my dead-eyed stare on him. "One more word out of you, and you're next." Evan was practically vibrating with fury. "That's enough, Cathy! Look at you! What have you become?" "What have I become?" I said coolly. "A goddess, slapping you across the face." Chloe arrived just in time to hear my comeback. She burst out laughing, completely ignoring the thunderous look on Evan's face. "Oh my god, I can't. That's hilarious." I shot her an annoyed look. A forty-year-old woman, and she still had no composure. She finally managed to get herself under control, looking at me like I was some kind of exotic animal. "Well, well. You finally grew a spine." A cold dread washed over me. Had the future me turned into some kind of pathetic, lovesick doormat? Leo looked between me and Chloe, his expression unreadable. Chloe acted like she'd only just noticed Evan. "Oh, your dear husband is here. Why did you call me? Oh, right. He's here to back up his bastard son." The words "dear husband" made my head spin. Chloe didn't spare me another glance. She treated me like I was invisible. After we left the station, she fussed over Leo, asking about his injuries, worrying about his studies. She was acting more like his mother than I was. I tried to speak to her several times, but she ignored me. She finally left after taking a phone call, without a single word to me. A wave of self-pity washed over me. I'd woken up twenty years in the future, and my best friend was treating me like a stranger. The wind whipped at my face, and tears streamed down my cheeks. Leo gently wiped them away. "It's windy. Let's go home." I stared at his face, so much like Evan's. After a long moment, I finally spoke. "Leo... if I said I wanted a divorce, would you be okay with that?" He froze. When my words finally registered, his eyes widened in disbelief. But the surprise quickly faded, replaced by a quiet resignation. "Okay. Let's go home." 8 I grabbed his arm, my voice firm. "Leo, I want a divorce. I'm not kidding." It took a long time before he finally managed a quiet, "Okay." I nudged his arm, trying to joke. "Is that all you have to say? I say I want a divorce, and that's your reaction?" He gave a bitter smile. "What do you want me to say?" I looked at him, suddenly at a loss for words. In his eyes, I had just lost my memory. My talk of divorce was just a whim. He would never believe something as crazy as time travel. Leo avoided talking about my memory loss, and I was completely in the dark about the last twenty years. But I was starting to guess why the future me was so reluctant to get a divorce. I dropped the subject and asked him if he was hungry. He instinctively said no, but his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. "Alright," I said, putting on a brave face. "Let's go home. Mom will make you a late-night snack!" I'm not exactly a gifted chef. Luckily, Leo wasn't a picky eater. After an hour of me puttering around in the kitchen, I presented him with a bowl of instant noodles. He ate it without a single complaint, even managing a compliment. "This is the best instant noodles I've ever had." I told him not to flatter me, but my heart ached. Leo was the best kid in the world. But Cathy... Cathy was not a good mother. After that night, our relationship seemed to thaw a little. He'd come home from school and complain about his homework. He'd also make snide remarks about my cooking. One day, I presented him with a new creation. His face contorted in horror. "Why are the chicken wings... green?" "Coca-Cola chicken is so last season," I announced proudly. "This is my new invention: Fanta chicken! Isn't it a refreshing change?" "You know," he said, looking disgusted, "I kind of miss the days when you ignored me." We both froze. He looked instantly regretful and took the plate from my hands. "I mean, the color is a little weird, but it probably tastes amazing." As he took a big bite and told me how great it was, my eyes started to burn. I snatched the plate back. "It's okay. You don't have to eat it if you don't like it." "Who said I don't like it?" he said, his voice rising. "I think it's great!" Tears streamed down my face. Leo just stared at me, completely at a loss. He fumbled, trying to wipe my tears away. I scrubbed at my face with the back of my hand. "Leo, Mom is so sorry." He looked away, uncomfortable. "It's just a plate of chicken wings. It's not a big deal." "I haven't been a good mother to you," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "Not now, and not before." He opened his mouth, but in the end, he said nothing.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394066", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel