Woke Up to Divorce Papers

I woke up staring at divorce papers—from the guy I'd crushed on all through college. My name. His. Right there on the page.

He said I cheated.

Last thing I remembered? Getting ready to finally tell him how I felt at our graduation party.

Now suddenly, we've got a four-year-old.

And him? He looked at me like I was some rando off the street. No trace of the sweet, soft guy I used to know. Just ice.

What did I miss?

What the hell happened in the last five years?

Never thought one stupid fall would erase five years of my life. I came to with divorce papers in my lap—from Aiden Harrison, the guy I'd been crushing on forever. And yeah, he thought I'd cheated.

Last clear memory? Graduation night. I finally had the guts to tell him. He was by the pool, champagne in hand, moonlight catching that smug grin. My heels clicked on the marble as I headed over—

—and boom. Slip. Skull meets stone steps. Lights out.

When I opened my eyes again, I was on some leather couch, head splitting. Floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan skyline blazing. Whole place screamed rich guy drama.

"You're awake."

That voice. I twisted around. Aiden sat behind some sleek desk, rocking a tailored suit, looking older, sharper—colder. A platinum ring caught the light.

My stomach tanked. Married.

"Aiden?" I rubbed my head. "Where even are we? What happened?"

He tossed a file down, eyes like ice. "Nice try. Getting drunk to stall the papers? Not gonna stop the divorce."

Divorce?

"Wait—" I shot upright, finally noticing the backless gown clinging to me. Totally not my vibe, definitely not my bank account. "What are you talking about? We...?"

The office door swung open and a young woman walked in.

"Mr. Harrison, your wife's lawyer is here. Oh—Sophia's awake?" She glanced at her watch. "Three hours out cold. And seriously? Getting wasted at the firm's Christmas party? Not a cute look."

Christmas party? My blood ran cold. Wasn't it June?

"My lawyer?" I echoed. Then I caught it—the diamond band on my finger, a perfect match to his.

"Aiden," my voice cracked, "we... we're married?"

He scoffed. "Great act. Five years married and now you 'forget'?"

"Five years?" My chest tightened. "No—the last thing I remember is graduation. That was June... this year."

Aiden came around the desk, towering over me. "It's December 2022. If you're making excuses, at least make them believable."

2022? Five years—gone.

"I'm not faking," I whispered, staring up at him. "I... I really don't remember."