The Call That Undid Us

I gritted my teeth and forced myself up.

Poppy ran over. "Mr. Lambert, are you okay? I saw you take that bottle for Sasha..."

She reached out, but the second her hand brushed my back, she froze.

"Oh my god. You're bleeding bad! This is serious. How did Ms. Reid not even notice?"

She ended up driving me to the hospital. They patched me up.

I went home alone.

Just like I figured—Nina and Sasha still weren't back.

I checked the old phone. No clue when the call had dropped.

Not long after, it buzzed again. I picked up.

Nina's voice came through. "You're Liam from the future, aren't you?"

My fingers twitched. I didn't say a word—but she knew.

She kept going. "What you told me earlier—about the awful stuff I said to Liam—that wasn't a guess, was it? You lived through that."

A bitter smile crept in. "Yeah."

"Liam, the way I hurt you in the future... That's why you begged me to stay away, isn't it?"

"Right."

Silence.

Then she asked, "Do you regret marrying me?"

I took a breath. "Yeah. I do."

"...Okay. Got it."

She hung up.

My chest felt like it was caving in. I couldn't even breathe right.

I didn't know what young Nina would choose—but I knew one thing: it was time to think about my own future.

I was done.

Done with Nina.

Done with this so-called family.

I yanked off the bloody shirt, threw on something clean.

Grabbed the suitcase I'd already packed.

Printed a fresh set of divorce papers.

Signed them.

The second I set the pen down, the front door slammed open. Nina walked in with Sasha, both of them looking wiped.

The moment she saw the suitcase, her temper lit up.

"Liam, you're thirty. Stop acting like a teenager."

Then her eyes landed on the papers. Her smile went sharp.

"You printed another one? Really? That desperate to leave me?"

I kept my voice calm. "I'm serious, Nina. I don't love you anymore. I'm done. Let's get divorced."

Her eyes blew wide. She stared me down, furious—then suddenly cracked up.

"Divorce? With me? Not happening. Ever."

She reached for the papers, ready to rip them apart.

I panicked and lunged—but my body slipped right through hers.

I stumbled, catching the table, heart slamming in my chest.

Then a brutal buzz ripped through my head.

New memories crashed in all at once:

Nina—eighteen-year-old Nina—had rejected my confession.