I woke up five years in the future. Married to my ex-boyfriend, who was now a titan of industry. And pregnant with his child. But he seemed to despise me. When I tried to cook for him, he wouldn’t touch the food. “What did you lace it with this time?” When I offered myself to him, he just sneered. “Trying to get me in the mood just so you can shove another woman into my bed again?” I begged him to let us be a happy family of three. He looked at me like a wounded animal. “Are you trying to humiliate me with this baby again?” Goddammit. You’re telling me the baby isn’t even his? 1 Last night, Cole had gone at it until the early hours of the morning. The insatiable beast. He nearly took me apart. “Cole!” I called out habitually. “Get me a glass of water.” Silence. No one answered. The silk sheet slid off my body as I sat up, revealing the slinky nightdress I had on. For all his rough handling last night, there wasn’t a single mark on my skin. Wait a second. I stared down at my stomach in shock. What was this… gentle curve? I… was pregnant? The room was unfamiliar, a minimalist palette of white and gray, with luxury whispering from every detail. But I could have sworn… last night, I was with Cole in his tiny rental apartment. The rickety wooden bed had creaked and groaned under his relentless assault all night long… 2 In a panic, I instinctively dialed Cole’s number. “What is it?” His voice was cold. I bit my lip, feeling a rush of confusion and hurt. “Where did you go?” “The office.” “The auto shop?” A pause. Cole’s voice came back through the line, laced with an unnerving chill. “Are you planning to use my past against me again?” “What past?” I was completely baffled. “Don’t you work at the auto shop?” “And another thing, last night we were in your apartment. How did I end up…” Beep… beep… beep… Before I could finish, the line went dead. Cole had hung up on me. That bastard! I cursed under my breath. Just as I was about to call him back, my eyes froze on the screen. The year… was 2030. Five years in the future. My gaze drifted numbly to my rounded belly. The horrifying realization dawned on me: I had somehow time-traveled five years forward. And I was pregnant. An old photograph sat on the nightstand. It showed a vibrant, dolled-up me, standing next to a ruggedly handsome Cole in a tank top. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I redialed his number. “Cole, we’re married, right?” “How many years has it been?” “How did my dad ever agree to let me marry you?” I was desperate to understand what had happened in those five years. But Cole seemed to hear something else entirely. He let out a bitter laugh. “Stella, are you trying to tell me you regret it all over again? This is the third time this month you’ve brought up divorce.” He paused. “And I’ve told you before, I won’t agree to it.” 3 “Who said anything about a divorce?” I asked, stunned. That face, that body, that… stamina. And now he was loaded? Why in the world would I want to divorce him? The other end of the line was silent. So silent I could hear the sudden hitch in his breathing. After a long moment, he said flatly, “Do whatever you want.” And before I could say another word, he hung up again. Seriously? When did this man get so moody? I probably spoiled him. You can’t spoil men. Knowing I was in my own home, at least, brought a small measure of relief. I decided to change and go downstairs. But when I opened the closet, I froze. It was an explosion of gaudy colors. Each outfit was tackier than the last. Ugh. This was my future self’s taste? I managed to find a relatively simple dress and slipped it on, then padded downstairs in my slippers. To my surprise, I found a familiar face in the living room. “Martha?” I cried out in delight. Martha had been our family’s housekeeper for over twenty years. Seeing someone I knew and trusted in this strange future was a huge comfort. “Perfect timing,” I said, linking my arm through hers warmly. “I was just about to cook a meal for Cole. With you teaching me, I know I can do it.” Martha’s expression was complicated. She hesitated, then whispered, “Ma’am… are you planning on making things difficult for Mr. Donovan again?” Making things difficult? Considering my disastrous cooking skills, that wasn't an exaggeration. She tried to say more, but I cut her off. “I know Cole. Even if it tastes awful, he’ll force himself to eat every last bite.” 4 In the kitchen, I casually tried to pump her for information about the last five years. Five years ago, I had defied my family to marry Cole. After the wedding, he quit his job and started his own business to give me a better life. My father, despite his disdain for his penniless son-in-law, had secretly provided a lot of support in the early days. And Cole had more than proven himself. In just five years, he had transformed from a poor kid into one of the brightest rising stars in Crestwood. According to Martha, his wealth and status now far surpassed my father’s. “It’s just…” Martha began, her voice trailing off as she helped me with a chicken soup. “Ma’am, are you still seeing that boy, Jax?” “Jax?” I asked, stirring a pot distractedly. “Who’s that?” Martha looked stunned. “Your… boyfriend.” I nearly choked on my own saliva. Our eyes met. “I’ve been cheating?” Martha nodded, her face a mask of sorrow. “He’s a mechanic, too. You were so insistent on the divorce, you wanted to…” Her words were cut short by the sound of footsteps at the door. Martha fell silent instantly. I turned around and saw him. The Cole of five years later. His long legs were encased in tailored slacks, the cuffs of his dress shirt unbuttoned to the second button, giving him an air of rugged maturity. He was leaner now, his features sharper. Even knowing he was my legal husband, the sight of him still made me blush. “You’re… home.” “Yeah.” So cold. But then again, I was cheating on him with a younger guy. Why would he be nice to me? Taking a deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face and braced myself to clean up my future self’s mess. “You must be tired. Why don’t you wait outside? Dinner’s almost ready.” Cole’s eyes scanned the loose apron tied over my pregnant belly. His tone was flat. “I’m not hungry.” With that, he switched on the kitchen’s ventilation fan and turned to leave. “Cole!” I grabbed a spatula and hurried after him, my voice turning into an involuntary whine. “It’s almost done. I made all your favorites. Just try a little, please?” “I’m not hungry,” he repeated, and walked out. Beside me, Martha asked timidly, “Ma’am, should I… finish the food?” I sighed. “Yeah, let’s finish it.” 5 Dinner was ready. Four simple, home-cooked dishes and a soup. Cole, who had claimed he wasn’t hungry, was now sitting at the dining table. This is a good sign, I thought, and quickly placed a shrimp in his bowl. “Ma’am,” Martha whispered urgently from beside me, “Mr. Donovan is allergic to shrimp.” Damn it. I quickly snatched it back and replaced it with a piece of braised pork. But Cole didn’t move his chopsticks. He leaned back in his chair, watching me with a cool, detached amusement. “Go on. Tell me.” “What did you put in the food this time?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “I didn’t…” Cole cut me off with a cynical drawl. “You’ve cooked twice this year. The first time, you put laxatives in my food. The second time, it was sleeping pills. All because I wouldn’t agree to a divorce. So, Stella, what is it this time?” I looked at him in disbelief, utterly speechless. “I really didn’t put anything in it.” To prove it, I frantically picked up a piece of meat and shoved it into my mouth. “See? It’s not poisoned…” “Ugh…” Cole’s face darkened. He reached out and tried to pry the food out of my mouth. “Fine, I’ll eat it, okay?” he snapped. “I’d eat it even if it was poisoned. You don’t have to do this.” I pushed his hand away and swallowed the chunk of meat whole. “It’s not poisoned, it’s just… really bad.” It had a greasy, gamey taste. Cole stared at me for a long moment. Then he sat back down. I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. He finally picked up his chopsticks. I watched his face intently. Sure enough, the moment the food touched his lips, even the stoic Cole couldn’t help but frown. But he had grown up poor. As bad as it was, he ate almost everything. Seeing him in a better mood, I decided to strike while the iron was hot. “Cole, I need to talk to you tonight.” His hand, holding the chopsticks, froze. “I’m busy.” His expression turned cold again. He set his chopsticks down with a sharp clatter. “I have to work late. We can talk some other time.” 6 I sat at the table, chin in my hands, lamenting my terrible luck. Five years of my life were a complete blank. It was no different from having my life cut short by five years. And on top of that, I had to clean up my future self’s messes and win back my husband. This new CEO version of Cole was moody and unpredictable, his temper turning on a dime. I sighed. Martha hesitated before asking, “Ma’am, are you… still planning on asking for a divorce tonight?” I blinked. “You thought I wanted to talk to him about a divorce?” “Well… yes, didn’t you?” Martha murmured, confused. “For the past year, you’ve been dead set on divorcing him. Every time you see him, you’re either forcing him to sign the papers or begging him to let you go.” I thought back to the ugly look on Cole’s face just now. So that was it. He had shut down and claimed he was busy because he was afraid I was going to bring up divorce again? That fool. 7 Cole worked in his study late into the night. I was dozing off waiting for him when I heard footsteps outside my door. They moved through the moonlit hallway and stopped right outside. Sleep vanished instantly. I grabbed my pillow and got out of bed. When I pulled the door open, I was met with Cole’s startled, vulnerable gaze. He froze, then slowly lowered the unlit cigarette from his fingers. “Cole,” I whispered. He gave me a complicated look, then rubbed his temples with a grimace. “I’m exhausted. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.” He turned to leave again. Gritting my teeth, I followed him, pillow tucked under one arm, and looped my other arm through his. Cole went rigid. I looked up at him. “I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m scared.” He turned his head away. Another rejection. “I have to work. I’m too tired.” “I won’t bother you,” I promised sincerely. “I’ll just sleep next to you. I won’t do anything. You won’t even know I’m there.” Cole didn’t speak, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob. “Fine,” he muttered. I happily followed him into his room with my pillow. The room was spartan. For a CEO, his room was surprisingly bare—just a bed, a wardrobe, and nothing else. Oh. And an old photo of me on his nightstand. I was about to take a closer look when Cole snatched it and stuffed it under his pillow. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he said gruffly. “The picture on the nightstand… it wards off evil spirits.” Right. Keep telling yourself that. Cole lay down with his back to me, clearly ignoring me. I hesitated for a moment, then slid in beside him and wrapped my arms around his waist. The next second, he flung my hand off. He rolled over to face me, his features cast in a sliver of moonlight, his expression utterly heartbroken. “Stella,” he whispered. “Are you just trying to seduce me so you can push another woman into our bed again?” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress a wave of raw emotion. “You went through all that trouble, again and again, just to leave me… just to go to him?” I was completely stunned. My heart ached for him. What on earth had I done to him over these past five years? I didn’t know how to explain, so I just reached for his hand. “Cole, can you please just trust me? I don’t want a divorce. We have a baby on the way. From now on, let’s just be a family, the three of us. Okay?” But my words seemed to strike a nerve deep inside him. He pushed me away, his whole body trembling. The anguish in his eyes was so thick it was about to overflow. “Stella, are you going to use this baby to humiliate me again?” Humiliate him? I suddenly remembered Martha’s hesitant, unfinished sentences. A terrible premonition crept into my heart. Oh, God. Don’t tell me… the baby isn’t even Cole’s. 8 I was so shocked I could barely speak. Cole wouldn’t look at me. He gathered his blankets, stood up, and prepared to sleep in another room. “Cole!” I finally found my voice. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to sound crazy…” “I’m from five years in the past. The night before I woke up here, I was with you in your old apartment. You were… a real bastard that night. We did it seven times.” “But that’s not the point. The point is, I went to sleep and woke up five years in the future.” I licked my lips, feeling his disbelieving stare on me, and nervously finished my sentence. “The person who cheated… that was the future me. The real me… I love you.” Dead silence. Cole stood there, his face unreadable, until the silence could no longer contain his fury. “Stella.” “Yes,” I answered quickly. “I’m listening.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “So, the cheater was the future you, not the you standing in front of me right now, the one who just came from five years ago after sleeping with me in my apartment?” I nodded vigorously. “Yes!” If only he would believe me. But then Cole started to laugh. It was a cold, mocking sound. “Do I look like an idiot to you?” He pried my fingers from his sleeve, clutched his blankets, and walked out. “Get some sleep.” The door closed softly behind him, but the sound was deafening. I sat on the edge of the bed, dejected. I guess he had a point. If the roles were reversed, if Cole had cheated on me repeatedly and then told me it was his future self and that he had time-traveled from the past and wanted to start over… I’d probably slap him twice. Are you playing me for a fool? 9 I barely slept a wink. The next morning, I came downstairs with dark circles under my eyes. Cole had already left for work. Martha coaxed me into eating some breakfast. After much thought, I made a decision. I was going to the hospital. To get rid of this baby. I learned from Martha that Cole and I hadn’t slept together in almost a year. That meant this child could not possibly be his. I didn’t know why my future self had done what she did. But this baby could not stay. I made an appointment with an OB-GYN. However, just as my car turned off the main road onto a quieter street, a motorcycle screeched to a halt, cutting me off. The rider was a young man in cargo pants and a black t-shirt. For a split second, he looked just like the Cole I used to know. But when he took off his helmet, the face was completely unfamiliar. Handsome, rebellious, and unapologetically arrogant. He walked up to my car and tapped on the window with his knuckle. I could read his lips. He was saying my name. “Stella.” I rolled down the window. “Who are you?” The young man clutched his chest, feigning heartbreak. “It’s only been a few days and you’ve already forgotten me, sweetheart?” He reached out and pinched my cheek. “Is it because I haven’t seen you? I’ve been busy with a race. Don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you today.” He raised an eyebrow, his smile wild and untamed. I had a pretty good idea who he was. “Jax?” “So you haven’t forgotten me completely.” I frowned, deciding to get straight to the point. “Since you’re here, let’s clear things up.” He grinned, putting on a show of listening intently. “Whatever we were before, it ends today. I have a family, and I am not getting a divorce. You’re young, you shouldn’t be wasting your time on a married woman. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?” The young man didn’t say anything. He took a couple of drags from a cigarette, then turned his head and blew out the smoke. He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Tired of your toy, so you’re just throwing it away? Are you playing me for a fool, sweetheart?” I was about to respond when I looked up. Past Jax, I saw Cole standing down the street. I couldn’t make out his expression. All I could see was the shopping bag in his hand. It was from my favorite bakery. 10 A sudden, sharp pain lanced through my chest. “Cole!” I scrambled out of the car, the door bumping into Jax. He grunted in pain. “No conscience at all, have you, sweetheart?” But I couldn’t spare him a thought. As I got closer, I finally saw the look in Cole’s eyes. It was a mixture of indifference, disappointment, and a deep, wounded sorrow. He just stood there, watching me silently. It was clear this wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like this. “Here.” He held out the bag. His voice was low. “The cake you loved five years ago.” He watched me, his gaze intense, as if he was searching for something. “You still love it, right?” A bitter, acidic feeling rose from my chest. So, he had believed my “time travel” story after all. As I stood there, stunned, Cole’s arm remained outstretched, rigid. Finally, as if all the strength had drained out of him, he slowly started to lower it. I rushed forward and took the bag. “I love it.” To prove it, I pulled out the cake and took a bite. The frosting was sickly sweet. I smiled, but I felt like crying. “It’s delicious.” Cole smiled back. He said, “Stella, I was up all night thinking. You said you came from five years in the past. I can believe you.” Not I believe you. I can believe you. Even though the reason was flimsy, absurd, even though he was a man of logic and reason. He could still choose to believe me.
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