Chapter 1

I lost five years of my memory.

When I came to, I found out that Ethan Sinclair, my longtime crush, had somehow become my husband.

But he wasn't kind to me.

Every bit of warmth and affection he had was saved for someone else: his childhood sweetheart. Even when I was on the brink of death, she was the only one he cared about.

People said I was hopelessly in love with him. That I would've gladly served his sweetheart hand and foot, just to stay by his side.

Ridiculous.

I didn't even remember him.

And if Ethan Sinclair couldn't be bothered to treat me with basic decency, then divorce was the obvious choice.

But not long after, he started showing up at my door late at night, just standing there in the dark like a shadow that wouldn't leave.

"Aria... can you just look at me? One more time?"

...

"Mrs. Sinclair tried to kill herself!"

I woke up to a blinding white light and a searing pain shooting through my wrist. Disoriented, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. A man was nearby, talking urgently on the phone.

"Mr. Sinclair, your wife's in the hospital. Don't you want to come see her?"

A cold voice crackled from the other end: "Is she dead? If not, don't bother me."

The call cut off.

The man sighed and turned around, only to freeze when he saw my eyes open.

"You're awake?" he said, stepping toward me. "Mrs. Sinclair?"

"...Mrs. Sinclair?" I echoed, blinking. "Are you talking to me?"

"You don't recognize me?" His expression twisted. "I'm Zack. Mr. Sinclair's assistant."

"Who's... Mr. Sinclair?"

Zack frowned, clearly losing patience. "Mrs. Sinclair, let me be blunt, your little stunt won't get his attention. And faking amnesia? That won't work either. Give it a rest. He's not coming."

I just stared at him, totally lost.

Zack took another step forward, voice edged with annoyance. "You've been married to Mr. Sinclair for five years. You've been stirring up drama for just as long. And he still doesn't love you. Maybe it's time to stop embarrassing yourself."

His words stung, even though I didn't fully understand them. There was something about his face I instantly disliked.

Wait...

"Did you say… five years?"

Panic bubbled in my chest. I stumbled into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and stared at the mirror.

It was still me, but older. Sharper. A little thinner. A little sadder.

Could he be telling the truth?

Was it really five years later?

Was I… married?

Turned out, yeah. I was.

No time travel. No coma-dream fantasy.

Just pure, devastating amnesia.

All I could remember was being 18, a freshman in college with a massive crush on the senior heartthrob, Ethan Sinclair.

He was perfect. Gorgeous, brilliant, untouchable. The kind of guy who didn't even have to try to be the center of attention.

And now… apparently, he was my husband.

According to Zack, we got married when I was 20. A whirlwind romance, no wedding, just a quiet registry trip. I was still in school.

And once the ink dried, reality hit.

Ethan's heart wasn't mine. It belonged to Olivia James, his elegant, untouchable first love.

Stuck in a loveless marriage, I'd spiraled. Tried everything to get his attention. Desperate, dramatic, pathetic.

But none of it worked.

His friends laughed behind my back. Olivia never even saw me as competition. To them, I was a joke, a clingy, lovesick girl trying to play house in someone else's fantasy.

In the end, I tried to take my life. Not because I truly wanted to die, but because I wanted him to see me. To choose me.

He didn't.

He told me to go ahead and die.

And that's the last thing I remembered… before waking up in that hospital bed.

Everything felt surreal.

Trying to die for a man's attention? That didn't sound like me.

But the hospital released me, and Zack dumped me at a place that was apparently my home, a massive, cold mansion that looked more like a hotel lobby than a place where love might've lived.

Even the closet was bigger than my old apartment.

I was standing in the middle of the enormous master bedroom, taking it all in, when I heard the door open behind me.

I turned, and there he was.

Ethan Sinclair.

He looked exactly like I remembered. Sharp suit, colder eyes, and a face carved from stone.

Only this time, he wasn't the dream I used to admire from afar.

This time, he was my husband.

And I didn't feel a thing.