In the third year of my hopeless crush on Julian Hayes, he got "truth" in a game of Truth or Dare. Someone asked him his type. "Smart," he said. My grades were good, so naturally, my name came up. He tightened his grip on his red Solo cup and scoffed. "I'd have to be certifiably insane to like her." I froze in the doorway, then quietly turned around. I walked home in the pouring rain and spiked a high fever. When I woke up, I was in a place I didn't recognize. Standing by the bed were two adorable twin boys, their eyes wide and blinking as they stared at me nervously. I sat up, wary. "Who... who are you?" "That's enough!" A familiar figure strode in from the hallway. "You can pull this crap with me, but now you're going to pretend you don't know your own sons?" I stared at Julian Hayes, dressed in a sharp business suit, my mind a complete blank. 1 I just graduated high school. How could I possibly have sons? "A nightmare. This has to be a nightmare," I muttered. Under the baffled gazes of one adult and two small children, I lay back down and tried to will myself back to my own reality. "Clara, what's the game now?" Julian's voice was tight with anger as he hauled me out of bed. I rubbed my wrist where his grip had been too tight. "This jerk," I mumbled to myself. "Bad enough he's got a mean streak, but he's not even a gentleman in my dreams." The pain felt surprisingly real, though. This didn't feel like a dream. After a moment of hesitation, I reached out a trembling hand and poked Julian’s stoic face. It was warm. The texture of his skin felt real. My eyes darted around the room again, finally landing on a large, framed wedding photo on the wall. It was him and me. My heart hammering, I fumbled for the phone on the nightstand and checked the date. My brain short-circuited. Overnight, I had somehow jumped eight years into the future. And I was married to Julian Hayes. "What are you doing with the suitcases? Running away again?" The man's cold voice pulled me back to the present. I followed his gaze. Two large suitcases were packed and standing neatly by the door. This wasn't just running away; this looked like moving out. My eyes met his, and the sheer pressure in his stare made me flinch. "Why are you looking at me? I didn't do this," I said in a small voice. "I..." "Can you just stop for one second?" he cut me off, but his tone had softened, laced with a deep exhaustion. After a few seconds of silence, I tugged on his sleeve. "If I told you I'm from eight years in the past," I asked tentatively, "would you believe me?" "Clara, that's enough," Julian growled. His eyes were burning with anger, a vein throbbing at his temple. I let go of his sleeve and pouted. "Fine, don't believe me. You don't have to yell." The standoff was broken by his phone ringing. He shot me one last glare before stepping into the hall to take the call. When he came back, he grabbed a set of car keys from the dresser. "Something came up at the office. I have to go." He walked to the door, then paused and looked back, his expression complicated. "Pretend you have amnesia, hate me, do whatever you want. But the boys are innocent. It'll crush them if you won't even acknowledge them." 2 I didn't know if his sons would be crushed, but I knew I would be if I couldn't get back. I tried everything I could think of. Nothing worked. Frustrated, I heard a rustling sound from under the dining table. I looked over and caught a glimpse of two chubby little cheeks. Sensing my gaze, they turned. Two pairs of big, grape-like eyes lit up as they looked at me, full of shyness. I forced a weak smile. "Playing hide-and-seek?" I asked. "Don't mind me, you guys carry on." I had just turned to leave when one of the little guys scrambled out from under the table and blocked my path. He twisted his little hands together and looked at the floor. "Is Mommy going to leave us again?" he whispered. The word "Mommy" hit me like a ton of bricks. I quickly knelt and covered his mouth. "You can't call me that, sweetie. Call me... Clara." A child's emotions are impossible to hide. He blinked, confused for a second, then his little mouth crumpled, and he burst into tears. "But you *are* Mommy!" he wailed, trying to bury his face in my shirt. No amount of shushing could calm him down. As his cries grew louder, I started patting his back gently. "Okay, okay, fine. You can call me whatever you want." The crying stopped instantly. His little shoulders hitched as he sniffled, his eyes as red as a rabbit's. "And Mommy can't leave," he mumbled. I figured I'd humor him for now. "Okay," I agreed. But that wasn't enough. He pointed to his cheek, his head still bowed. "And... a kiss," he whispered. He looked so much like a miniature Julian. I wanted to say no, but he started whimpering again. For the sake of peace and quiet, I closed my eyes and quickly pecked his cheek. He touched his face, and his stormy expression immediately cleared. "Mommy's not leaving!" he cheered. "Mommy kissed me!" As I stood up, I felt a tug on my shirt. "Hmph!" Oh, right. There was another one. I looked down and gently stroked his puffed-out cheek. "Hm? What's wrong?" His little face was a mask of stoicism. He pointed at his twin, who was now happily running in circles. Then he hooked one of my fingers with his own and gave it a tiny shake. He tilted his head back. "...Kiss!" This one seemed more serious, probably harder to please. I knelt again and gave him a quick kiss too. "Is that better?" He stared at me blankly for a second, then a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, and he nodded. He wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, "Love... Mommy." Then he turned bright red and ran off. Honestly, these two little guys were way more likable than their father. I kind of wanted to take them with me and let Julian die alone. 3 After a busy afternoon of trying and failing to get back to my own time, I decided to go outside and see if I could find any clues. I changed my clothes and came out of the bedroom, only to stop short. The two little boys were dressed in pajamas, sitting side-by-side on the sofa, each holding a storybook, looking like they were waiting for something. I wanted to ask, but I realized I didn't know their names. "The one on the left is Caleb, and on the right is Cody," the nanny whispered to me as she passed by. "Caleb has autism, and Cody... well, he's not as carefree as other kids his age." "Daddy always comes home to read us a story, no matter how busy he is," Cody explained, carefully placing his book in my hands. "Mr. Hayes has it tough," the nanny started to say. "After putting the boys to bed, he still has to..." She caught my eye and trailed off. I glanced back at the sofa. Their little heads were drooping with disappointment. Clearly, Julian was late today. I clenched my fists and forced myself to walk to the door. I paused. Took a deep breath. And walked back. I knelt and stroked their faces. "How about I read to you guys tonight?" 4 Two drooping heads shot up, their round eyes shining like stars. They nodded excitedly. They scrambled into bed, pulled the covers up themselves, and obediently closed their eyes. They begged me to read story after story. I was getting sleepy, but they seemed to be getting more and more awake. My eyelids started to feel heavy. The words on the page blurred. My brain started to malfunction. After nonsensically narrating how "the Big Bad Wolf and the three little pigs all went to college together," I couldn't fight it anymore and passed out. ... In a groggy haze, I felt myself being lifted. Thinking it was just a sleep twitch, I subconsciously rolled over, burying my face into something warm and comfortable. Then I smelled a familiar, clean scent. My mind went blank for a second, then snapped into focus. I opened my eyes and found myself looking up into a pair of dark, smiling ones. Julian. The heat from his hand was seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt, right at the small of my back. I yelped as if electrocuted and scrambled out of his arms. "Who said you could hold me?" I demanded. His suit jacket was gone, leaving him in just a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone. He looked tired, but his features were sharper, more mature than the boy I remembered from eight years ago. "Then who should?" Julian's smile vanished. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sneered. "Leo?" That night at the party, after Julian had so cruelly dismissed the idea of liking me, I had run into Leo, our class president, as I was leaving. He'd confessed his feelings for me, his face beet red. Just then, some other friends came out, overheard, and dragged us back inside, teasingly demanding he say it again for everyone. So he wouldn't be embarrassed, I'd tentatively agreed to go on a date with him. ... My failure to deny it back then was, in Julian's eyes, a confirmation. He grabbed my chin, his gaze dark, his voice turning colder. "You'd better not forget who you are." I slapped his hand away and laughed coldly. "Who I am? Do I have an identity here? Did I ever have a choice?" I shot back. "Julian, I never did anything to you. If you hate me so much, why did you marry me?" 5 The air went still. Julian frowned. "What are you even talking about? Who said I hate you? I..." "Daddy~" Cody emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He glanced nervously at me, then at Julian. "Are you and Mommy fighting?" Our eyes met. In a flash, Julian's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him. He instantly switched into doting-husband-and-father mode. "Of course not," he said smoothly. "Mommy and Daddy always get along. Your mom has a big debate at work tomorrow, and we were just practicing." Cody tilted his head, thinking. Then he shook it. "Liar. If you got along, why does Mommy always try to run away?" "That's nonsense. She's not running away." Julian shot me a wounded look. "Your mommy just likes playing hide-and-seek, just like you guys." His hand on my waist tightened. "Right, honey?" I looked away, refusing to answer. But my eyes accidentally met Caleb's. He was staring at us, his brow furrowed, picking at his fingers so hard they were turning red. He was on the verge of an episode. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced a smile. "That's right. Your dad is right." I watched as Caleb stopped picking at his hands, his brow slowly smoothing out. I let out a sigh of relief. "I don't believe you," Cody said, looking up at us skeptically. "Michael's parents are always kissing. You guys never do. Unless... unless Mommy kisses Daddy. Then I'll believe you." I was completely cornered. Kids these days were too smart. There was no way I could fulfill that request. After a long, awkward silence, I elbowed the man beside me who was pretending to be a statue. "Well? Say something helpful." Julian glanced at me, then grunted reluctantly. To my complete shock, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. He straightened up and looked at his son matter-of-factly. "There. Now get back to bed. Don't bother your mom, she's shy." 6 I was still in a daze long after the boys had gone back to their room. "I helped," Julian stated calmly. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "I said, 'Say something helpful,' not 'do something helpful'." He just shrugged. "What's the difference? Same result." Furious, I slapped him across the face. "You took advantage of the situation! You're shameless!" Before the words were even out, he grabbed my hand, his grip like steel. I struggled, but couldn't break free. "What?" I said, trying to sound brave. "Am I wrong? Let go of me." Our eyes locked. His Adam's apple bobbed. "Can you... say more?" he asked, his voice strangely quiet. "Yell at me. Hit me again. Anything." I just blinked at him. "Are you sick?" Catching him off guard, I yanked my hand free and fled back to my room. 7 The next morning at the breakfast table, Julian was sporting dark circles under his eyes and kept glancing at me. As soon as the boys went to get their backpacks, he spoke, his voice full of complaint. "You have to let me back in the bedroom tonight. I can't sleep well in the guest room." I nodded. "Okay. Then I'll move to the guest room." His face fell. "Clara, what is that supposed to mean? Are you just taking advantage of the fact that I let you get away with everything?" I met his gaze. "If that's what you want to call it, I can't stop you." His face was thunderous. He didn't even finish his breakfast before storming out of the dining room. He met the boys coming out of their room and took their hands. He shot me one last cold look. "Come on. Dad's taking you to school." Caleb and Cody didn't move. They both looked at me. "We want Mommy to take us," Cody said in a small voice. "Mommy... take us," Caleb echoed. Julian looked like he'd been hit by a truck for the second time that morning. His glare in my direction was even more resentful than before.
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