My cool, impossibly reserved husband has been acting strange lately. He insists on going out in a full disguise—hoodie, sunglasses, the whole nine yards. The moment the doorbell rings, he dives into the nearest closet. And I catch him, day after day, staring at the ring on my finger with a look of pure, grinding agony. Then one day, I stumbled upon an encrypted memo on his phone: "Woke up and I've time-traveled from eighteen to twenty-eight." "Good news: I actually ended up with the girl I've been secretly in love with for years." "Bad news: There are no wedding photos in the house, I'm not wearing a wedding ring, and the suits in the closet aren't my size." "...I'm screwed. I'm the other man." Me: ? 1 The day after we moved into our new home, my husband, Liam, was in a horrific car accident. He spent a day and a night unconscious in the hospital. The doctors said that apart from losing the last ten years of his memory, all his vitals were perfectly normal. But I had a growing suspicion that it wasn't just his memory that was gone. The man who came home with me was a stranger in more ways than one. His behavior was... bizarre. Take right now, for instance. It’s been three hours since we got back from the hospital, and Liam hasn't stopped moving. He's been pacing the house relentlessly, his eyes darting everywhere. First, he examined the freshly painted walls with the intensity of a crime scene investigator. Then, he pulled an old suit from the back of the wardrobe—the one he wore to his college graduation—and held it against himself over and over again, a frown deepening on his face. Finally, his gaze fell on his left hand. He squeezed his bare ring finger, where a faint, pale band of skin marked the spot a ring had occupied for years. It had been lost in the crash. When he finished his inspection, all the strength seemed to drain out of him. He collapsed onto the sofa, his face a ghostly white. "Nina," he said, his voice trembling. I looked over, and his eyes flickered to the ring on my own hand before he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "How long... have we been like this?" I followed his gaze to my ring, and a warm blush crept up my neck. "Two years." It was a strange and wonderful story, really. In high school, we were bitter rivals, fighting tooth and nail to be top of the class. But a chance reunion in a new city during college transformed our animosity into a surprising, fierce friendship. After graduation, we became an unbeatable team at work, a perfect partnership in every sense. It was like we just clicked. And just like that, a decade had flown by. The two people everyone at school swore would kill each other before they'd ever date were now two years into a marriage so perfect, so in sync—from the boardroom to the bedroom—it felt like we were made for each other. 2 I was still lost in the warm, fuzzy memories of my favorite enemy-turned-lover story when Liam’s voice shattered the quiet. "T-Two years?!" He clutched his chest as if he’d been shot, his voice ragged with hysteria. "Two years... and I'm still not the official one?" His outburst startled me. "Liam, what are you yelling about? The 'official one'? What are you trying to be the official one of?" He stared at me for a moment, a look of profound sorrow in his eyes. He slowly tightened his grip on the teacup in his hand. "So... you're the one who won't let go of him." I frowned, completely bewildered, my gaze dropping to the cup. And then it clicked. "That's right," I said, a wave of relief washing over me. "I won't let you." He's always under so much pressure at work, and insomnia is his constant companion. So, I have a strict no-caffeine-after-noon rule for him. I was glad he remembered that little detail, even if nothing else. He, however, did not look glad at all. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he stared at me like a tragic lover, used and then cruelly cast aside, every strand of his hair radiating betrayal. "Nina," he choked out, "I never thought... I never thought this is what we'd become." I couldn't help but smile shyly. "I never thought so either. It just goes to show you, fate is a funny thing." "...Fate?" Liam’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. "Is this fate? This? This is... this is an outrage, it's—" He broke off, turning away to rub furiously at the corner of his eye. A flicker of disappointment went through me; for a second, I thought he was about to say something sweet. But then again, this was Liam. He was an unshakeable ice king in high school, and his career as a ruthless CEO had only made him more concise. Which is why, for the past two years, my favorite pastime was coaxing dirty talk out of him in bed. I lived for the sight of that blush creeping up his neck as he lost himself to me, his composure shattering. And if I really put in the effort… I could wring a few low, desperate gasps from between those clenched teeth. 3 The memory sent a jolt of heat through me. I patted my flushed cheeks and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Liam, are you hungry? I'll go see what we have for dinner." Liam let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes following me as I walked to the kitchen. He seemed to have reached some sort of terrible resolution. "Nina," he began, his voice heavy. "I don't know what's happened between then and now, or why I'm... like this. Maybe you have some kind of leverage over me, I don't know." "But I will not allow myself to be this person. I can't do these... shady, underhanded things. I'm not cut out for the drama, the jealousy, the backstabbing." "I have to cut this toxic tie, now. I have to end this chaotic mess—especially this relationship, which is a violation of the law, of morality, of every principle I hold dear." "I'm telling you right now, I would rather die than be a—" I pulled open the refrigerator door and waved a container at him. "Dinner is pizza and the chicken soup my mom sent over. Sound good, honey?" The word hung in the air. Liam’s expression of tortured indignation vanished. He blinked, his eyes wide, as if savoring the sound. Three long seconds passed. A dark blush crept up to the tips of his ears. "O-Okay," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. For the next half hour, Liam stood as still as a statue, a storm of conflicting emotions warring on his face. He looked utterly defeated. The white bandage on his forehead only added to the tragic, broken-beauty effect. The accident hadn't marred his handsome features in the slightest. If anything, it had softened the sharp, ruthless edge he'd honed over years in the corporate world, making him seem younger, more vulnerable. "Nina, I have to be clear," he started again, his brow furrowed with grim determination. "I can't—I won't—engage in any more of this clandestine..." His voice was cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. Ding-dong. The pizza had arrived, right on time. At my side, Liam went rigid, instantly on high alert. He fumbled for the remote and clicked off the TV, his eyes wide with panic as he looked at me. I bit my lip, remembering the doctor's warning. Post-accident, Liam might be sensitive to sudden, loud noises. Doorbells, car horns, anything startling. I reached out and gently stroked his jaw, my voice soft. "It's okay. Don't worry. You just stay here, you don't have to go to the door." His shoulders trembled slightly at my touch. He flinched away, his lips pressed into a thin, white line, but he didn't say anything. I paid for the pizza and signed for a package that had also arrived, then walked back into the living room. But when I stepped inside, Liam was gone. The only evidence he'd been there was the deep impression his body had left on the sofa cushion and the faint, clean scent of cedarwood that hung in the air. If not for those traces, I would have thought I'd imagined him entirely. I scanned the empty room, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach. "Liam?" Silence. I thought for a moment, then headed upstairs. The bedroom was dark, with no sign of him. I flipped on the light. My eyes were immediately drawn to the wardrobe. A familiar sliver of fabric was caught in the door, trembling faintly. 4 I rushed over and threw open the closet doors. And there he was, huddled behind a row of my dresses. Liam, all six-foot-two of him, was crammed into the tiny space, the hem of my skirt clenched between his teeth. His face was pale, his jaw trembling. I was stunned. "Liam! What in the world are you doing in there?" His head shot up. The first thing he did was peer cautiously past my shoulder. "Is... is he gone?" he whispered. I glanced back. The delivery guy's car was already pulling out of the driveway. "Yeah, he's gone." Liam's eyes lit up for a second, then immediately dimmed. "He... he didn't stay?" "Stay for what? He has other deliveries to make. Come on, get out of there. He's long gone." Liam's tense shoulders finally relaxed, and he let out a huge sigh of relief. He hesitated, then added, his tone sly and conspiratorial, "...You know, a workaholic like that, someone who only thinks about their job... they must be incredibly boring. It must be exhausting, being with a person like that. But, just saying, I'm not that kind of workaholic..." I nodded along. "You're right. That's why I like you so much better." A small, smug smile touched his lips, and he lifted his chin with a hint of pride. But just as quickly, his expression froze. The light in his eyes vanished, replaced by a look of self-loathing. He muttered something under his breath, then scrambled out of the closet and hurried past me, storming downstairs without another word. 5 After dinner, I suggested a walk in the park. Liam's knuckles went white as he gripped his spoon. "There will be too many people at the park. What if someone sees us...?" I knew he'd been anxious around people since the accident, so I nodded understandingly. "You have a point. Okay, then let's just go to the supermarket to pick up some essentials. It should be pretty empty this time of night." Liam's lashes fluttered down, and he didn't refuse this time. "...Nina, have we... always been like this? For the past two years?" "We have." His back went ramrod straight. "Will you... will you divorce him?" he asked, his voice strained. I was taken aback. "Divorce? Why would I get a divorce? I don't ever want a divorce." CRACK. The fork in his hand snapped in two. "You really want to keep going on like this?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. I nodded firmly. "Of course." Liam shot to his feet, the sound of his teeth grinding together filling the silence. "Nina, how could you... How can you—?" He choked on the words, a look of pure despair on his face, then spun around. "I'm done eating." I blinked. "Hey, Liam, aren't you coming to the supermarket with me?" His retreating figure looked fragile, on the verge of collapse. He gave no sign that he'd heard me as he mounted the stairs, not even a backward glance. I huffed in annoyance, deliberately pitching my voice to carry. "Fine, be that way! I'll just ask someone else. See how you like being replaced!" At the top of the stairs, Liam’s footsteps faltered. 6 Ten minutes later, I came downstairs in a more comfortable outfit, only to find Liam standing rigidly by the door. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, bundled up as if preparing for a blizzard. I walked over and tugged his mask down. "Liam, aren't you hot in that? Besides, the doctor said you need fresh air." He glanced nervously out the window at the people walking by, then pulled a pair of enormous sunglasses from his bag—the kind that covers half your face. I put my hand over his, utterly baffled. "Liam, you'll look ridiculous wearing those in a supermarket." He paused for a second, then produced a black baseball cap. Me: ? His bizarre behavior was starting to give me the distinct impression that we were about to go rob the place. I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off a headache. "Liam, we are just going to the supermarket to buy toilet paper and milk. We are not planning a heist..." His eyes widened in horror. He clapped a hand over my mouth, his voice a frantic whisper. "Keep your voice down! Is that something to be proud of?" Me: ? Just as I was about to argue, my phone buzzed with a message from my best friend, whose profile picture was, as always, some new pop star. "Babe, I'm so sorry, I'm stuck at the office. I have to go out of town for work tomorrow, so I can't make it shopping tonight." 7 I let go of Liam to type out a quick reply. 【No worries!】 The second I hit send, Liam's voice, dripping with sarcasm, cut through the air above me. "So busy that you can't even spare twenty minutes for a trip to the supermarket..." "Wow. Must be making, what, a billion dollars a month at that job?" I shot him a sideways glance, about to defend my friend, but he barrelled on, his tone one of mock surprise. "What? It's not a billion? You mean you're that busy for a measly three thousand a month?" "Sigh. Well, Nina, don't overthink it." "What could it possibly mean? I mean, not having time to go to the store with you can only mean that you're not a priority. That's all. Nothing more to it." "It's not like there's someone else, of course. That would be impossible..." "Nina, whatever you do... don't... overthink... it..." He bit down on the last few words, his voice heavy with insinuation. A vein throbbed in my temple. I jabbed him with my elbow. "What is all this nonsense? I know her, I understand her, and she would never do that. Stop talking trash about my friend. We were supposed to meet tonight, and I was going to go with her on her business trip for a week..." The smug look on Liam's face instantly dissolved. It was as if all his strength, all his clever manipulations, had evaporated in an instant. He staggered back a few steps, looking like a lost dog that had just been kicked by its owner, and curled in on himself, a tremor running through his body. 8 I knew immediately that something was wrong. I dropped my phone and rushed to his side. "Liam? What is it? Are you not feeling well?" He didn't speak, just clutched his chest and sank onto the sofa. Panicked, I started to get up to call his doctor. But he shot out a hand and grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. "Yes," he gasped. I was completely lost. "Yes, what?" Liam tilted his head back to look at me, a fragile, crimson blush blooming at the corners of his eyes. His lips parted, stopping a mere inch from mine. "I... I don't feel well, Nina. I feel really, really awful..." I studied the bandage on his forehead, my heart pounding with worry. "Is it your head? Or somewhere else?" He squeezed my hand tighter, his voice trembling. "Just... listen. Can you feel how fast my heart is beating...?" "...?" For a second, I was sure I'd misheard him. 9 Liam said his heart was racing. And as he said it, he leaned into me, a picture of delicate fragility, resting his head in the crook of my neck. "Just hold me," he murmured. "If you hold me, it'll stop..." I froze, my body rigid. I'd seen him ruthlessly tear apart opponents in the boardroom without breaking a sweat. I'd seen him lose control, his eyes blazing as he pinned me against a wall. But I had never, ever seen this Liam. For a moment, I had no idea what to do. My hands hovered awkwardly in the air. But I couldn't bring myself to push him away. "Nina, if you leave me alone tonight... I think I'll just die of a broken heart. I really will..." Liam looked up, and a single, perfect teardrop clung to his lashes, shimmering like a shattered diamond in the soft light. "So, Nina, are you really going to leave me for her...? Are you going to watch me die? Do you have the heart? Can you really stand by and watch me die?" Looking at his tear-streaked, pitiful face, I felt my heart clench into a tight knot. I wanted to swear an oath to the heavens. "No, no, I won't! I won't leave you! I promise, I'll stay with you all night. Even if she gets mad at me, I'm staying here with you tonight." ...Sorry, bestie. My priorities were embarrassingly clear.
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