My husband has been acting strange lately. His hugs are stiff, his kisses clumsy, and our time in bed… let’s just say it’s been a disaster. I was starting to wonder if he wanted a divorce, but then I stumbled upon his browser history and found a recent post he’d made: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] Me: "?" 1 “You’re back.” My eyes lifted to the man standing in the entryway. He held his custom-tailored suit jacket in one hand, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Even his hair, usually styled to perfection, was a mess, sticking up in every direction. He looked less like he’d just returned from a business trip and more like he’d just survived a bar fight. I shot up from the couch. “Did things go badly at work? What happened to you?” Liam Bernstein didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at me. His gaze was so intense, so fixed, it felt like he was trying to memorize every line on my face. I couldn't help but walk over to him. I hooked a finger around his loosened tie and gently pulled him inside, my voice laced with a playful complaint. “What’s the matter? Forget what I look like after just a few days away?” He let me lead him a few steps before he finally stammered, “N-no. I remember.” I glanced back at him. His eyes were still locked on me, wide and unblinking. There was a raw hunger in them, but it was mixed with a wide-eyed innocence, the kind you’d see in a teenager. I shot him a playful glare, then wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. “You missed me that much, huh?” The man in my arms went rigid, his breathing shallowing to a near halt. His eyes darted around nervously, his lips pressed into a thin line, hands clenched into tight fists. He looked like a saint trying to resist temptation. I found this new version of Liam… fascinating. Usually, after a business trip, he was the one who turned into a wolf the second he walked through the door. I planted a soft kiss on the sharp line of his Adam’s apple, then whispered into his ear, letting my breath ghost over his skin. “Weren’t you the one on the phone promising to completely wreck me when you got home?” I held him tighter, feeling his body tense up even more, and softened my voice to a purr. “So, husband… how exactly are you going to wreck me?” The proximity was too much. I felt the immediate, unmistakable shift in his body. My hand was just beginning to drift downwards when he suddenly shoved me away. I stared at him, stunned. His entire face was a deep shade of crimson. When he spoke, his voice was so hoarse it sounded like it had been scraped with sandpaper. He wouldn't meet my eyes. “I, uh… I haven’t showered yet…” And with that, he practically bolted into the nearest room—my office—and slammed the door shut. I was left standing there, utterly bewildered. 2 Rejected and confused, I curled up on the sofa to sulk. He was always the one complaining that I wasn’t proactive enough. But the one time I decided to take the lead, he was the one to turn me down. What was wrong with him? Fine, I fumed silently, I’m never speaking to him again. Just as I made that vow, I heard a noise. The office door creaked open. Liam peeked out, shot a furtive glance in my direction, and then scurried into our bedroom like a thief in the night. I raised an eyebrow. Even though I was still annoyed, my curiosity won. I followed him. Wouldn’t you know it, the second I reached the bedroom, he ducked into the master bathroom. A moment later, I heard the shower turn on, the sound of the water a poor attempt to cover his escape. He was definitely hiding from me. Resigned, I walked to the bathroom door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t turn. He’d locked it. Okay, now I was certain. Liam was actively avoiding me. He never locked the door. He was the kind of man who’d lounge in the bathtub and call out with a teasing grin, “Honey, you sure you don’t want to join me?” Standing outside the locked door, I had a rare moment of self-doubt. Was I too aggressive just now? But compared to how Liam usually was with me, what I did was nothing. Wasn’t he always the one showering me with kisses and pulling me into his arms? Wasn’t he the one who would turn our world upside down for days on end? The one who left me so sore I couldn’t get out of bed? And now? I make one move, and he acts like I’m the plague? My annoyance flared into full-blown anger. I swore to myself that when he finally came out, I was going to make him pay. I ended up waiting for a full hour. When Liam finally emerged, his earlier awkwardness was gone. He looked composed as he said my name. “Chloe.” I just grunted, keeping my back to him. He rushed to my side, a stream of apologies tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I just… I froze for a second. You know, we haven’t seen each other in days, and I missed you so much…” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling me gently. The familiar sensation started to melt my anger. I looked up at him. “Don’t think you can get off that easily.” “You can stay mad. It’s okay.” He looked at me, his eyes shining like an eager puppy’s. For a moment, I felt a strange sense of disconnect. The Liam I knew would never look at me like this. It wasn’t that his gaze lacked love before, but his love had always been intertwined with a fierce, possessive desire. Now, that desire was still there, but it was swimming in a sea of pure, almost boyish adoration. My hand instinctively rose to cup his cheek. “What is going on with you?” “Nothing.” He wrapped his arms around me loosely, resting his chin on my shoulder. He sounded like he was whispering a secret to himself. “I’m just… I’m so happy.” He let out a sigh, a soft, wondering sound. “I can’t believe you’re my wife. I’m the luckiest man alive.” I gently pushed him back. “We’ve been married for almost two years. Isn’t it a little late for that kind of talk?” “It’s never too late,” he insisted, a playful stubbornness in his voice. “I could say it every day for the rest of my life, and it would never be too late.” His sweet words worked. My anger evaporated, and I generously pressed my lips against his. I held them there for a full ten seconds. He didn’t move. Not an inch. I peeked through one eye. Liam’s expression was one of pure shock, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. His face was a battlefield of conflicting emotions—he desperately wanted to kiss me back but was terrified to try. My lips still on his, I murmured, “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” “Yes. I am. I want to.” As he spoke, his lips unconsciously began to move against mine. It was like a switch had been flipped. He started to kiss me, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, but something still felt… off. Why is he kissing me like it’s his first time? He doesn’t even know how to breathe! I opened my eyes again. Seeing the raw excitement on his face, I didn’t have the heart to stop him. Oh, well. I guess even a clumsy, hungry kiss has its own charm. 3 I magnanimously forgave all of Liam’s bizarre behavior, but he just kept getting weirder. The weirdest part? He stopped touching me. This was a massive red flag. Since the day we got married, the man had the libido of a rabbit. Suddenly, he’d turned into a monk, and frankly, I wasn’t used to it. We’d be lying in the same bed. I’d inch closer to him. His breathing would quicken, but he wouldn’t touch me. I’d wrap my arms around him. His body would react, but he still wouldn’t touch me. It was like he’d become a master of self-control overnight, practicing celibacy as if he were saving himself for someone. This sudden chill in our marriage was driving me crazy. I called my best friend, Zoe, and dragged her out for drinks. I avoided talking about Liam, rambling about everything else, but she saw right through me. “Why hasn’t Liam called you yet?” she asked with a teasing grin. “Normally, whenever you’re out, your phone is blowing up with his texts and calls. What’s up? Did you two have a fight?” I pursed my lips and took a bitter sip of my wine. “He doesn’t love me anymore.” “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Zoe scoffed. “Anyone with eyes can see that man is head-over-heels for you.” That was all it took. The floodgates opened, and I told her everything—all of his strange behavior, with a special emphasis on his newfound vow of chastity. “What could possibly make him act like that?” I finished, taking another angry gulp of wine. “He’s practically sleeping on the far edge of the bed, like he’s afraid I’ll bite!” “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she said, trying to soothe me. “Maybe… maybe there’s something he’s not telling you? Something he’s embarrassed about?” My mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario: he couldn’t perform anymore. But then I remembered the very obvious evidence to the contrary. He was more than capable; he was just choosing to endure the torture rather than touch me. “He was on that business trip in France, right?” Zoe continued. “I heard things can get a little rough over there. What if he got hurt and is afraid to tell you?” That thought hadn't occurred to me. “He wouldn’t want you to worry, you know? That makes total sense. And you said his flight back was delayed by two days… what if it was because he needed medical attention? That would also explain why he’s been avoiding you…” She sounded so certain. “That has to be it.” Her words echoed in my head. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to rush home, strip Liam naked, and inspect every inch of his body for myself. It was past eleven when I got home. As I opened the door, Liam, who had been waiting on the sofa, jumped up and rushed toward me. But as he got closer, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been drinking?” If you were so worried, why didn’t you call me once? I thought bitterly. I brushed past his outstretched hand, but he was persistent, steadying me and guiding me to the couch. A moment later, he returned with a glass of honey water. I stared at him intently. “Are you hurt?” He shook his head, looking completely baffled. “No. Of course not.” “Then take off your clothes.” His face instantly turned scarlet. He hesitantly lifted the hem of his pajama shirt, then dropped it, his fingers fumbling. He repeated the motion a few times, paralyzed by indecision. I narrowed my eyes. “What, you won’t even let me see your abs anymore?” He stopped hesitating. In one swift motion, he pulled the shirt over his head. The torso revealed before me was flawless, ripped enough to be on a magazine cover. There wasn’t a single scratch or bruise, nothing like Zoe had suggested. I glared at him. “The pants, too.” “Ch-Chloe…” “Now.” He reluctantly complied, his movements awkward and shy. I stared at the man standing before me, vulnerable and flushed, and I finally snapped. I pushed him back onto the sofa, planting my hands on his shoulders and pinning him down. “Liam,” I demanded, “what the hell is wrong with you?” He looked up at me, a mix of shock and shyness in his eyes. “I… I don’t think anything’s wrong with me.” “Then prove it.” My voice dropped to a low, suggestive whisper as I looked into his panicked eyes. “Don’t make me think less of you.” Liam’s gaze met mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Just when I thought he was going to back down again, his hand shot up to cup the back of my head, and he crashed his lips against mine in a wild, desperate kiss. 4 As it turns out, you should never challenge a man’s pride. Driven by his fear of disappointing me, Liam spent the entire night proving himself. He went from clumsy and reckless to skilled and confident, and his performance was, to put it mildly, breathtaking. At the time, I was too busy—and too exhausted—to think about it too deeply. But the next morning, as I lay in bed, every muscle aching, all the strange pieces started clicking into place. Last night, Liam hadn’t been the mature, experienced husband I’d known for two years. He’d been more like a fumbling teenager who had just lost his virginity. He had no experience, no technique. His hands were shaking when he tried to put on the condom; he couldn’t find the right spot, and he almost finished before we even started. I’d had the urge to kick him off the bed, but seeing the sweat on his brow and the panicked look in his eyes, I’d held back. He eventually found his rhythm, even getting back to his usual impressive standard, but still… It was so, so strange. How could a man so skilled in the bedroom suddenly lose all his talent overnight? I turned it over and over in my mind, but I couldn't make sense of it. Just then, the man in question pushed the door open and walked in. He was wearing a set of comfortable, loose-fitting loungewear. He’d clearly just showered; his hair was still damp, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead. It was a messy look, but it gave him an unexpected, boyish charm. Looking at him, I felt a wave of cognitive dissonance. He was both familiar and a complete stranger. Liam sat on the edge of the bed, a tray in his hands holding a bowl of white porridge. “Are you hungry?” he asked softly. “Eat a little something for now. We can have a proper meal later.” “Feed me,” I said quietly. “My arms are sore.” The tips of his ears turned bright red, but he calmly picked up the spoon and brought it to my lips. The porridge was the perfect temperature, but it was bland. He hadn't added any sugar. I snuck a glance at him. Liam was meticulous about details; forgetting something as simple as sugar was completely out of character. The seed of doubt in my mind grew larger. After a few tasteless spoonfuls, I stared at his crimson ears and couldn't stop myself from asking, “Why are you blushing?” Liam lowered his gaze. “Your… your clothes are a little messy.” I looked down. He had dressed me in a silk slip dress after we were done. One of the straps had fallen off my shoulder, revealing a swath of skin and a constellation of faint red marks. I was even more confused. “So what?” He reached out and gently adjusted the strap, his movements so careful it was as if he were afraid to touch my skin. I placed my hand over his, pressing it firmly against my shoulder. “We’re a married couple. Is there anything you haven’t seen?” Liam’s eyes widened in a flustered blink. The strangeness was overwhelming. I finally decided to just ask him directly. “What is wrong with you? You won’t kiss me, you won’t touch me… It’s like you’re a completely different person. Are you even my husband anymore?” “I am! I’m your husband.” “Then why are you stuttering?” It took him a few seconds to react. He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to kiss me, clearly trying to shut me up. But I wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily. I pushed him back, my voice cold. “I want an explanation. Now.” Liam’s eyes fell. “A lot has happened recently, and I don’t know how to handle it yet. Can you just give me a little more time? I promise I’ll sort it out soon.” I’d rarely seen him like this. It reminded me of the broken, exhausted man who had first come home from his trip. “Is it about work?” I asked. “Y-yes. Yes,” he answered quickly. “It’s… complicated. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.” He looked at me with such genuine apology in his eyes that all my suspicions melted away. It was rare for Liam to face a problem he couldn't solve. So if he was acting a little strange, maybe that was normal, right? 5 “So you just forgave him like that? Chloe, you’re spoiling that man rotten,” my best friend Zoe declared, completely baffled. “What else was I supposed to do?” I swirled the tea in my cup, my gaze indifferent. “Keep fighting with him? Start another argument? What would that accomplish?” “So, is he still acting weird?” “It’s hard to say. Yes and no.” It was a bizarre feeling I couldn’t quite describe. Sometimes, I felt like Liam was just pretending to be close to me, but other times, it felt real. I chalked it up to me being overly sensitive. “Well, try not to overthink it.” Zoe clinked her cup against mine. I nodded, trying to reassure myself. “He’s a busy man. All I can do is be supportive—” My words were cut short when Liam’s assistant walked into the café. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Seeing his assistant here, looking relaxed, was… interesting. When he came over to our table to say hello, I seized the opportunity. “Has work been crazy busy lately?” I asked casually. “It’s been manageable,” he replied. “No major problems? Nothing… tricky?” He thought for a moment. “Everything’s been running smoothly. Not that I’m aware of, no.” I offered him a tight smile and stood up. “That’s great to hear. I think I’ll head over to the office with you.” The entire car ride, my mind raced. Liam had lied to me. If his stress wasn't from work, then what was the real reason for his strange behavior? I hated where my thoughts were going, but all the signs pointed to one devastating conclusion— He was falling for someone else. Maybe he’d met another woman, and that’s why he’d become so distant, so absent-minded with me. He was just going through the motions. His hugs were stiff. His kisses were wooden. Even when we made love, he seemed like his soul was somewhere else. He was nothing like the man I had married. Taking a deep breath, I walked into his office building, carrying the afternoon tea I’d picked up. I passed out the pastries and coffee to the staff in the executive suite, who cheerfully informed me that Liam was in a meeting. So, I sat in his office to wait. His phone, his personal tablet, and his laptop were all sitting right there on his desk. I’d never been the type to snoop. Liam had never given me a reason to doubt him. But now… now I was curious. What if there really was someone else? Without a second thought, I picked up his phone. I checked his texts, his call logs, his photo gallery. Nothing. Not a single suspicious thing. I raised an eyebrow and reached for the tablet. The passcode was still my birthday. I unlocked it, but instead of the home screen, it opened to the last page he’d been viewing. He must have just closed the cover without closing the app. It was a post on a forum, a plea for help. The title read: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] My brow furrowed as my eyes scanned the first few lines of the post. “Hey everyone, so I just graduated high school. The other day I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was in a strange city, and the girl I’ve been in love with forever was calling me her husband, asking when I was coming home…” I wondered why Liam would be reading such a ridiculous story, but then my gaze caught the username: MyWifeChloe. My eyes widened. My name is Chloe. My heart stopped beating. My fingers trembled as I tapped on the user’s profile picture, then navigated to their main page. And there, I saw it—the option to “Edit Profile.” The world went silent. This was Liam’s account. Which meant the person who wrote that post… was Liam himself. Holy. Shit.
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