Chapter 2The Amnesiac Husband and His 18-Year-Old Self

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.