The Amnesiac Husband and His 18-Year-Old Self

After my husband lost his memory in a car accident, he looked at me with the eyes of a cold stranger. He told me he wanted a divorce. Just as I was about to explode in anger, his 18-year-old self suddenly time-traveled into our living room. In a moment of pure panic, I dragged the teenager right in front of my amnesiac husband. Through dramatic, crocodile tears, I wailed: "Honey, how could you be so irresponsible? Look at our son! He’s already so big!" The man’s gaze swept over the teenager, who looked exactly like him. After a long silence, he accepted this absurd reality. Later on. My amnesiac husband pulled me into his arms, his voice deep and full of guilt: "I don't think I love our son. Because every time I look at him, I get this sickening, heart-palpitating urge to throw up." Chapter 1 When 18-year-old Julian time-traveled to the present, I had just woken up from a nap in my slip dress. Hearing the front door open, I yawned, walked over, and threw my arms around the person walking in. Burying my face in his chest, I mumbled groggily: "Did you take the afternoon off?" The second my arms wrapped around him, I knew something was wrong. The body in front of me was stiff as a board and didn't hug me back. His frame felt a little leaner, a little narrower. Even his voice was brimming with raw, adolescent edge. He pressed two fingers against my forehead, pushing me away without an ounce of mercy. "...Harper, do I even know you?" My heart leaped into my throat. I snapped my head up. Standing right in front of me, looking fresh-faced and utterly bewildered, was the teenage version of my husband. I yanked my hands back, scanning him from head to toe in utter disbelief. "How old are you?" "Eighteen." Eighteen?! I searched my memories. At eighteen, Julian and I were just high school classmates. He was the star of the school, the guy everyone knew. I was just a nobody in the background. A nobody secretly nursing a massive crush on him. But we were from two completely different worlds, so I kept my crush locked away tight. And now. I stared blankly at teenage Julian, my brain totally short-circuiting. Part of me was shocked that 18-year-old Julian even remembered the name of a wallflower like me. But the more pressing issue was figuring out how the hell I was going to explain this to him. Teenage Julian’s gaze dropped to my neckline, then drifted up to my slightly parted lips. He discreetly averted his eyes and clicked his tongue. "...How did you end up looking like this? What exactly is going on here?" I took a deep breath and laid it all out for him. Ten minutes later. Julian sat in silence, his tone dripping with absolute disbelief. "Me? Married to you? And we're madly in love?" I nodded solemnly, then quickly warned him: "When my actual husband gets home tonight, you need to keep your distance. He gets incredibly jealous." Teenage Julian scoffed. "Relax. I would never be as much of a simp as my future self." Listening to his guarantee did not make me feel better. As Julian had gotten older, his anxiety and jealousy had only leveled up. When he got jealous, it was nearly impossible for me to handle him. I frowned, worried, just about to give teenage Julian a few more ground rules. Right then. The front door clicked open again. My heart stopped. Teenage Julian and I turned our heads in unison. Standing in the doorway was 38-year-old Julian. He calmly took in the scene playing out in the living room. My legs instinctively turned to jelly. I rushed forward, trying to grab his hand. "Honey, let me explain..." Before I could finish. My husband, who usually doted on me relentlessly, cut me off with an icy tone: "Excuse me, are you... my wife?" I thought he was just blindly jealous, so I immediately hugged his waist to coax him. "Why are you saying things like that?" He looked down at me, his eyes full of cold unfamiliarity. With a polite but distant tone, he explained: "I was in a car accident. I've lost my memories." "If you are my wife, I apologize. At this current stage, it will be very difficult for me to reciprocate your feelings." Me: "?" The back-to-back plot twists had my head spinning. I stared at the husband in front of me. Washed over by the years, he was no longer the reckless, playful boy of his youth. All that remained was a steady, imposing, and freezing aura. I asked, stunned, "What do you mean?" His tone was composed, like he was negotiating a standard business deal: "I have no emotional attachment to you. If that bothers you, we can get a divorce." "I'll have my lawyers contact you to discuss the division of assets." We had been married for 15 years. This was the very first time the word "divorce" had ever crossed Julian's lips. To make matters worse, teenage Julian was standing right there, arms crossed, watching the drama unfold with a smirk. "Wow—so this is that 'stable, madly-in-love' marriage you were bragging about?" My vision literally blurred. My temples throbbed violently. I was being infuriated to death by the two of them. First, a time-traveling teenage Julian. Now, an amnesiac husband demanding a divorce. A long moment passed. I took a deep breath. Fine. If this is how we're playing it. I lifted my head. The confusion from earlier vanished, instantly replaced by a tearful, heartbroken expression. I reached out and yanked teenage Julian over. I shoved him right in front of my husband. Through dramatic, sobbing wails, I accused him: "Honey, how could you say something so irresponsible?!" "Look at our son! Look how big he is!" "Are you just going to abandon us?! Boo hoo hoo..." Chapter 2 The moment those words left my mouth. The living room plunged into dead silence. A ripple of shock finally broke through the cold indifference in my husband's eyes. He slowly shifted his gaze to the teenager he had been ignoring. Meanwhile, teenage Julian absolutely exploded: "Harper! Are you out of your fucking mind?!" I wiped my fake tears. "I know, sweetie. Your dad doesn't want us anymore. I'm just so heartbroken I'm losing my mind." Afraid my husband wouldn't buy it, I turned to teenage Julian and urged: "Come on, be a good boy. Call me Mom." Teenage Julian's ears turned beet red from sheer anger. He looked like he'd rather die than submit. My face remained perfectly stoic as I sneakily reached my hand around to the most sensitive spot on his lower back. And pinched him. Hard. I made it very clear that if he didn't say it, I was never letting go. Teenage Julian let out a sharp hiss. Finally, he gritted his teeth and forced out: "...Mom." I smiled sweetly. I might not be able to handle 38-year-old Julian, but 18-year-old Julian? Easy. I patted his head like a good mother. "There we go. Now, say 'Dad'." This time, Julian absolutely refused to speak. I had no choice but to explain to my husband: "I'm sorry, he's just going through a rebellious phase." My husband stared at me for two seconds. Then, his eyes swept over the teenager who looked exactly like him. With his memory wiped, he couldn't quite remember what he looked like as a teenager. But the boy standing in front of him bore an uncanny, undeniable resemblance to him. Compared to the absurd idea that this kid was a time-traveler... It was significantly easier for Julian to believe that this was his son. The age checked out, too. However, there was still one lingering doubt. My husband asked me blankly: "Why does he only look like me? He looks nothing like you." I froze. Then, with utmost sincerity, I said: "Your genes were just too strong. He took after you." My husband was silent for a very long time. Finally, he accepted this reality. When he saw the tears on my face, he instinctively reached out and wiped them away. The moment he did it, he seemed to startle himself. He quickly withdrew his hand and returned to his icy demeanor: "Stop crying. I was being inconsiderate earlier." "Out of responsibility, I will continue to provide for you and the boy financially." That night, my husband worked late in his study. After my shower, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for a long time. It finally dawned on me that because of his amnesia, Julian had no idea how to face me. So he was hiding in his office. Yet just yesterday, he was kissing me passionately while practically carrying me to this very bedroom. I forced a bitter smile. I decided not to wait anymore, turned off the lamp, and got ready to sleep. Right then, there was a knock at the door. I assumed Julian was finally done working, so I hopped out of bed to open it. Instead, standing in the hallway was 18-year-old Julian. His eyes dropped to my neckline again, and he couldn't help but ask: "Do you dress like this in front of him every single day?" I looked down at myself, confused. It was a satin slip dress, and the hem fell modestly to my knees. "Is there a problem?" Teenage Julian scoffed coldly. "You're manipulative as hell." I didn't quite catch that, so I asked: "Why are you here?" He let out an "oh" and pointed toward the window, where a thunderstorm was raging outside. "I'm scared of the thunder." I gave him a skeptical look. "You're eighteen and you're scared of thunder?" Teenage Julian's lips curved into a wicked, drawn-out smirk as he deliberately mocked me: "But Mom... aren't I your son?" "The thunder is so scary. You need to comfort me." While we were locked in a standoff, my husband stepped out of his study. He walked over and said politely: "I'll be sleeping in the study tonight. Don't wait up for me." It was obvious that, although he was reluctant to share a bed with me right now... He was trying to give me as much dignity as possible, for the sake of our marriage and our "child." Before I could say anything. Teenage Julian mercilessly called him out: "If you're that reluctant, you might as well just get a divorce." My husband frowned, slowly raising his eyes to look at the teenager. I quickly interrupted teenage Julian, looking heartbroken: "Sweetie, how could you say that? Mommy just wants to give you a whole, complete family!" Teenage Julian raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe lazily. "Oh. Well, I don't want a family like this." "If you guys want a divorce, get a divorce. Don't stay together for my sake." I was so mad I could have killed him. This little brat. He just couldn't stand seeing his future self with me, could he? I was just about to pinch him again when I heard him say to my husband: "If you really get a divorce, I'm staying with Mom. How about that?" His tone was breezy, deliberately putting heavy emphasis on the word "Mom." Hearing this, my husband’s frown deepened. A flash of irrational, inexplicable agitation crossed his eyes. That night, he still didn't agree to the teenager's proposal. He just said, "I will provide for both of you." After he said that, he looked at the teenager and asked: "Why did you come to her room?" Teenage Julian didn't flinch. "Oh. I was scared of the thunder." My husband replied calmly, "You can come to the study and find me. Don't bother her." Teenage Julian: "..." "You know what, I'm not that scared anymore. I'm going to bed." My husband nodded, then turned to me: "You should get some sleep early, too." With that, he walked away. I closed the door. The sheer absurdity of the day had left me completely drained. I collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost instantly. But my sleep was restless. I don't know how much time passed. In a hazy state between sleep and waking, I thought I heard the door click open. Then, a figure stood by the bed, watching me for a long time. Finally, he climbed into bed, lifted the covers, and lay down next to me. After a moment of hesitation, he awkwardly, clumsily pulled me into his arms. I unconsciously snuggled closer, burying my face in his chest out of pure habit. The person stiffened, then muttered under his breath with a hint of disgust: "What kind of perfume is this? It's so overpowering." Despite his complaint, the arm around my waist pulled me even tighter. The next morning. I woke up and immediately felt someone next to me. Before my brain was even fully online, I kept my eyes closed and pressed a kiss to his lips: "Morning, honey." But the person didn't respond. I opened my eyes, only to see teenage Julian lying next to me, his face looking completely unhinged: "Do you do that to him every single day?" I snapped awake, bolting upright in terror: "Wha- What are you doing here?!" The teenager brushed a finger against his lips, acting like he owned the place: "This is my house. Why wouldn't I be here?" "Didn't you go sleep in the other room?!" "Oh. I went back to my room, thought about it, and realized I was actually still scared of the thunder." Me: "..." I literally shoved him off the bed, panicking: "Get out right now, before he sees you..." Teenage Julian couldn't care less. "He doesn't even like you right now. You think he's going to get jealous?" "But given our current mother-son relationship, him catching us would be infinitely weirder!" As I spoke, I shoved him all the way to the door. I cracked the door open. "Hurry, get out—" Before I could finish the sentence, I saw my husband standing right outside the door. Our eyes locked.