My Amnesiac Husband Raised His Younger Self

After fifteen years of marriage, my husband woke up from a car crash with no memory of me—and asked for a divorce.

That same day, his eighteenyearold self suddenly appeared in our home.

Desperate to save my marriage, I dragged the teenager in front of my thirtyeightyearold husband and burst into tears. "Honey, our son is already eighteen.

You can't just walk away from us." My husband's gaze moved over the boy who looked so much like him. After a long silence, he accepted it.

Later, my amnesiac husband pulled me into his arms, his voice heavy with guilt. "I don't think I love our son. Every time I see him, I get nauseous.

My heart starts racing, and I want to throw up." He had forgotten our marriage. He still knew how to be jealous of himself.

Chapter 1 When eighteenyearold Julian Hayes traveled twenty years into the future, I had just woken from a nap in my satin nightgown.

I heard the front door and walked over, still yawning.

Without looking, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face against his chest. "You're home from work already?" The second I touched him, something felt wrong.

His body went stiff. He didn't hug me back. He even seemed a little smaller. Then he spoke, and his voice was unmistakably young.

He pressed two fingers to my forehead and pushed me away without mercy. "Nora Bennett… are we supposed to know each other?" My pulse kicked. I snapped my head up. There he was.

The teenage version of my husband, freshfaced and very real. I yanked my hands back and looked him over. "How old are you?" "Eighteen." Eighteen?

Twenty years ago, Julian and I had been in the same class. He was the boy everyone at school knew.

I was the quiet girl people barely noticed, secretly in love with him from a safe distance. We had lived in different worlds, so I had hidden my crush well.

Now I could only stare at teenage Julian while my mind stalled. It was strange that he remembered the name of a nobody like me. But I had a bigger problem.

How was I supposed to explain any of this to the Julian who belonged in this time? Teenage Julian let his gaze dip to the neckline of my nightgown, then rise to my parted lips.

He looked away with a quiet click of his tongue. "What happened to you? And what the hell is going on?" I took a deep breath and told him everything.

Ten minutes later, Julian stared at me as if I had lost my mind. "I married you?

And we're in love?" I nodded with complete seriousness. "When my husband gets home tonight, keep your distance from me. He gets jealous." The teenager scoffed. "Relax.

I'm not going to turn into some whipped fool just because twenty years go by." His promise did nothing to reassure me. Julian's anxiety and jealousy had only grown with age.

When that man got possessive, even I had trouble handling him. I frowned, ready to warn the younger version again. The lock turned at the front door.

Teenage Julian and I both looked over. Thirtyeightyearold Julian stood in the doorway, silent and still, taking in the two of us. I had wanted to save our marriage.

Instead, I had put the most dangerous secret in the room right in front of him. My knees weakened as I stepped forward and reached for his hand.

Chapter 2 "Honey, let me explain…" Before I could finish, the husband who had always spoiled me cut me off in a cool voice. "I'm sorry.

You're… my wife?" I assumed jealousy had driven him out of his mind. I hugged him around the waist. "What are you talking about?" He looked down at me like I was a stranger.

His tone was gentle but distant. "I lost my memory in the crash. A lot of my life is gone.

If you are my wife, I'm sorry, but I don't think I can return your feelings right now." I stared at him. The hits kept coming so fast, the room seemed to tilt.

Time had stripped away the reckless arrogance of his youth.

The man in front of me carried himself with a calm, cool restraint that eighteenyearold Julian had never possessed. "What does that mean?" I asked.

He answered as if this were an ordinary business negotiation. "I don't have feelings for you. If that is a problem, we can divorce.

Our attorneys can handle the property settlement." In fifteen years of marriage, Julian had never once said the word divorce to me.

Of course, his younger self chose that moment to fold his arms and smirk. "Oh. So this is the happy, stable marriage you told me about?" Pain throbbed behind my temples.

Both versions of this man were working together to kill me, and they didn't even know it. First the teenager had fallen twenty years through time.

Now my husband had forgotten our entire marriage. Fine. If that was how they wanted to treat me, fine. I lifted my head.

The confusion left my face, replaced by trembling lips and eyes on the edge of tears.

Then I grabbed teenage Julian, shoved him in front of my husband, and let my voice break. "Honey, how can you be so irresponsible? Look at our child. He's already eighteen!

Are you really going to abandon your wife and son?" The room went dead silent. At last, a ripple disturbed my husband's cool expression.

He slowly turned toward the teenager he had ignored until now. Teenage Julian exploded. "Nora! Have you lost your mind?" I wiped at my tears. "Yes.

Your father doesn't want us anymore. Of course your mother is losing her mind." Before my husband could question it, I looked at the boy. "Come on, sweetheart.

Call me Mom." His ears turned red. Every line of his body said he would rather die.

Keeping my expression blank, I slipped a hand behind his back and pinched the sensitive spot at his waist. Hard. I wasn't letting go until he said it.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Then he forced out one word. "…Mom." I smiled and patted his head. I might not know how to handle Julian at thirtyeight, but eighteen?

That version I could manage. "Good boy. Now call him Dad." This time, Julian refused with every ounce of stubbornness he had. I turned to my husband. "Sorry.

Teenage rebellion." My husband studied me for two seconds, then looked at the teenager who bore an unsettling resemblance to him.

His memory was gone, including any clear picture of his own younger face. Chapter 3 But the boy looked far too much like him.

Compared with the insane possibility that his younger self had traveled through time, a teenage son was much easier to believe. The age almost worked, too.

One detail still bothered him. "Why does he only look like me?" my husband asked. "Why doesn't he look like you?" I paused, then gave him my most sincere expression. "Your genes won.

He took after you." My husband considered that for a long time. At last, he accepted his new reality.

When he noticed the tears on my face, his hand rose almost on instinct and wiped them away. The gesture seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised me.

His expression cooled again. "Don't cry. I didn't think this through.

Out of duty, I'll keep working and provide for you and the boy." That night, my husband stayed in his home office until late.

I showered and waited in our bedroom for a long time before the reason finally sank in. With no memory of me, Julian had no idea how to face me. He was hiding at his desk instead.

Only yesterday, he had kissed me while carrying me toward this same bedroom, too impatient to wait. My mouth twisted. I stopped waiting, turned off the light, and got into bed.

A knock sounded at the door. I assumed Julian had finally finished working. Instead, his eighteenyearold self stood outside.

His gaze dropped to my neckline again. "You wear that around him every night?" I looked down at myself.

The fitted satin nightgown reached my knees. "What's wrong with it?" "You know exactly what you're doing," he muttered. "What was that?" "Nothing." He pointed toward the thunderstorm outside. "I'm scared of thunder." I narrowed my eyes. "You're eighteen." His mouth curved. "But Mom, aren't I your child?

Thunder is terrifying. Comfort me." Before I could answer, my husband emerged from his home office. He approached with careful politeness. "I'll sleep in the office tonight.

You don't need to wait for me." He clearly did not want to share a bedroom with me.

Still, for the sake of our marriage and supposed child, he intended to spare me the embarrassment of saying so outright.

Teenage Julian did it for him. "If sleeping beside her is such a burden, you should get divorced." My husband's brows drew together as he looked at the boy.

I cut in. "Your mother is trying to keep this family together." The teenager lifted one brow. "Well, I don't want this version of a family. If you two want a divorce, do it.

Don't stay together for me." I could have strangled the brat. Did he hate the idea of his future self being married to me that much?

I was about to pinch him again when he turned to my husband. "If you do get divorced, I choose Mom. How does that sound?" He drew out the word Mom on purpose.

My husband's frown deepened. Something restless flashed through his eyes before he could hide it. His memory didn't recognize me. His jealousy did.

Chapter 4 My husband did not agree to the teenager's suggestion. "I'll support both of you," he said.

Then he looked at the boy. "Why did you come to her room?" Teenage Julian didn't blink. "Thunder." "You can come to the office if you're afraid.

Don't disturb her." The boy went quiet. "I'm not that scared anymore. I'm going to bed." My husband nodded, then turned to me. "You should get some sleep, too." They both left.

I closed the door, exhausted by everything that had happened that day. Sleep came fast, but it never settled. Sometime later, the door seemed to open.

A shadow stood beside my bed for a long time. Then he lifted the blanket, lay down beside me, and after a moment wrapped one uncertain arm around me.

I moved toward him without waking and tucked myself against his chest as if I had done it a thousand times.

His body locked. "What perfume is that?" he muttered. "It reeks." The arm around my waist tightened anyway. The next morning, I woke to the warmth of someone beside me.

My eyes were still closed when I leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. "Morning, honey." No answer came. I opened my eyes.

Teenage Julian lay beside me, his face dark. "You do that to him every morning?" I shot upright. "Why are you in my bed?" He touched the corner of his mouth. "This is my house, isn't it?

Why can't I be here?" "You said you were sleeping in another room." "I changed my mind. The thunder got scary again." I stared at him.

Then I shoved him off the bed. "Get out before he sees you." "He doesn't even like you now. Why would he care?" "Because we're pretending to be mother and son.

Finding you in my bed would make this even worse." I pushed him to the door and pulled it open. "Go. Now—" My husband stood on the other side. Our eyes met.

I dropped my hand and gave him a dry smile. "The pipes in his bathroom are acting up. I was telling him to shower and get to school." Perfectly reasonable.

A flicker of irritation crossed my husband's face, then disappeared. He gave a calm nod and said nothing. The three of us went downstairs for breakfast. My husband ate quickly.

When he finished, he stood and collected his suit jacket from the entryway. Then he lowered his head and began working on his tie. Maybe it was the memory loss.

Whatever the reason, the knot refused to sit right. I walked over before I could stop myself. Leaning close, I raised my hands and fixed it for him.

His body stayed rigid, but he didn't move away.

Once the tie was straight, he looked down at me. "Thank you." The polite distance in those two words hurt more than it should have. "I'll relearn how to tie it," he added. "I won't trouble you again." My hands fell to my sides. "…All right." Chapter 5 I pulled my hands back, embarrassed.

Teenage Julian gave a sudden, humorless laugh, as if he had just heard the best joke of his life. I ignored him.

After my husband left, I went to the kitchen for the warm honeyoat milk waiting on the counter. A body pressed in behind me.

I started to pull away, but teenage Julian wrapped his arms around me and held on. "He knows how to tie a tie," he said near my ear. "Memory loss wouldn't erase that." I lifted a brow. "And?" "He's manipulating you." I shook my head. "I've tied his ties since we got married.

It makes sense that he forgot how." The teenager's expression darkened. "You tie them for him every day?" "Yes.

He said he never learned." Julian let out a bitter laugh. "I've known how to tie one since I was a kid. Funny how marriage made me forget. Manipulative bastard." That stopped me.

Then why had Julian made such a mess of every tie when we were newlyweds? The boy watched me. "You tie his tie.

You give him a morning kiss." His voice dropped. "Nora, do you really love the thirtyeightyearold version of me that much?" His arms tightened around me.

I tried to pry them loose. "Let go. What is wrong with you?" He lowered his head into the curve of my neck.

His next words came out muffled. "Why can't you love the version of me standing here?" For one beat, my body forgot what to do. The truth was, I had loved him.

Julian had been the first boy I ever fell for. But if I admitted that now, eighteenyearold Julian would probably laugh in my face. My silence only made him more annoyed.

He caught my chin and turned my face toward his. "He and I are the same person. Why does he get everything?" Julian trapped me between his body and the kitchen island.

There was barely any space left between us. To anyone walking in, it would look like we were kissing. I pressed my lips together, searching for an answer.

A low, controlled voice came from behind him. "What are you two doing?" I looked up in alarm. My husband stood motionless in the doorway.

I had no idea how long he had been watching us. I tore myself out of the teenager's arms