WonNovels

In the fifth year of our marriage, I met my husband as he had been at eighteen.

He was sitting on the living room sofa, looking me up and down with a deep frown.

“Why would I marry you ten years from now?”

I asked him what exactly he wanted.

The man who still carried all the sharpness and recklessness of youth answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“A divorce. As soon as possible.”

He paused, then added with a frown,

“I can’t bear the thought of my future self marrying a woman he doesn’t even love.”

I nodded and agreed.

Then I began, quietly and without drawing attention, to distance myself from Julian Hayes.

Until one day, I left the studio early and came home in advance. Just as I reached the door, I heard violent sounds of fighting from inside.

“You’re spreading lies about me? You little bastard—do you really think thirty-three-year-old me can’t see through what eighteen-year-old me is plotting?”

A younger voice roared back in fury:

“You’re already old! What gives you the right to hog such a good life?”

“I hate the ten-years-later version of myself! Go die!!”

Me: “?”

01

The moment I saw Julian, I knew something was wrong.

He was too young.

He didn’t have the effortless composure of the thirty-three-year-old Julian, nor that unreadable depth that came with age.

He lounged on the sofa like some freshly adulted boy who feared nothing and no one.

There was still a trace of youthfulness on his face that hadn’t fully faded yet.

It softened what should have been harsh, sharp features, making him seem less dangerous than he ought to.

The very first thing he said completely stunned me.

“Who are you?”

I answered, “Mia Bennett.”

He was wearing a loose hoodie and a pair of expensive sneakers.

That unruly, defiant air about him didn’t look fake.

Which meant one of two things.

Either my husband of five years had somehow become young again.

Or he had an identical twin brother I had never known about.

After thinking it over, I simply raised a hand and pointed at the giant wedding photo on the wall.

“As you can see, I’m married to you.”

Julian exploded on the spot.

He shot to his feet, and the oppressive force that belonged to the powerful man he would become was already faintly visible.

“Married?”

“To you?”

His tone was disdainful.

His expression was shocked.

And the dislike on his face was painfully obvious.

I quietly withdrew my gaze and said evenly,

“Now it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

Perhaps because I was so calm, Julian visibly froze for a second.

His gaze lingered on my face a little too long.

Then, a bit unnaturally, he touched his nose and looked away.

“Cough… ask.”

Three minutes later, I had figured it out.

The person in front of me really was eighteen-year-old Julian Hayes.

No wonder he was so arrogant.

I couldn’t help staring at this younger version of Julian for quite a while.

To be honest, the whole thing felt bizarrely fascinating.

Julian rarely ever talked to me about his past.

Everything I knew about him came almost entirely from our married life.

Maybe my stare was too direct. Too undisguised.

Because the young Julian sitting on the sofa actually started to look uncomfortable.

He drew back his long legs a little, as if trying to distract himself with the rock music coming from the speakers in the living room.

He tried a few times, then finally snapped.

“I said, can you stop staring at me like that?”

I looked down at him from above.

A flush was slowly creeping across his pale skin. Even the tips of his ears had turned red.

As he wished, I turned away expressionlessly and went to the fridge to get some fruit.

Although I was shocked, I was handling it fairly well.

Still, I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if both Julians ever really stood face-to-face.

I was still lost in that thought when the boy on the sofa suddenly spoke.

“So why would I marry you ten years from now?”

I choked on the question.

His gaze was blunt, openly appraising.

Before I could answer, he continued,

“Knowing myself, future me wouldn’t like your type.”

Instinctively, I shot back, “What’s wrong with my type?”

The speech he had so confidently prepared suddenly died in his throat.

His lips parted, then closed again.

I watched as his whole face slowly reddened and his eyes started darting away.

In the end, unable to squeeze out a complete sentence, he just gave up and blurted out,

“Anyway… you’re too flashy!”

Flashy?

Me?

I’d already braced myself for young Julian to call me old, or to say I wasn’t pretty.

Instead he called me flashy.

Maybe, once upon a time, I really had lived brightly and boldly, relying on my looks.

But ever since I married Julian,

I had become the model wife praised by everyone in upper-class social circles. The word flashy no longer fit me at all.

My expression darkened immediately, and whatever patience I’d had vanished.

“So what exactly do you want?”

This younger Julian apparently had terrible eyesight.

He couldn’t read the room at all.

After hearing my question, he actually slapped the table and stood up, sounding oddly excited and eager.

“A divorce, obviously!”

And then, just to make sure I understood, he added,

“The sooner the better. I can’t bear the idea of my future self marrying a woman he doesn’t love.”

02

I pretended to agree.

Most importantly, I had to stabilize this eighteen-year-old Julian first.

I arranged for him to stay in a small villa with a garden that was under my name.

After stuffing a spare phone into his hand, I gave him a serious warning.

“If anything happens, contact me anytime. But do not appear in front of Julian.”

Young Julian’s face instantly showed blatant disdain.

“You care about him that much?”

Me: “…”

This wasn’t a matter of whether I cared or not.

The point was that if two identical people really appeared in the same reality at the same time, anyone would find it absurd.

Besides, Julian was currently tied up with a very important cross-border merger deal.

I didn’t want to interfere with his work.

And I definitely didn’t want him distracted by a suddenly appearing younger version of himself.

Luckily,

little Julian agreed in the end.

But he had one condition.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You want to hug me??”

Julian sounded perfectly matter-of-fact.

“What’s wrong with hugging you once? You hug him often enough, don’t you?”

For a second, I couldn’t even process that.

I truly could not keep up with the logic of an eighteen-year-old boy.

But little Julian gave me no time to think. He simply reached out and yanked me into his arms.

The hand circling my waist was burning hot.

I squirmed a little, feeling awkward.

He only held me tighter.

Then, as if taking a deep breath, he murmured slowly into my ear,

“He’s already thirty-three. Does he smell old? Don’t I smell better?”

He?

Oh. Big Julian.

I fell silent for a moment.

“…He’s thirty-three, not fifty-three.”

Before I left, Julian frowned and solemnly repeated,

“Remember. Hurry up and divorce him.”

I nodded perfunctorily while thinking to myself:

Aren’t you him?

03

By the time I hurried home, Julian had just finished showering.

Yes.

I should probably call him big Julian from now on.

A towel was wrapped around his waist as he leaned against the bedroom doorframe, tilting his head and smiling at me.

“Busy today?”

I nodded without giving anything away and lied casually,

“The studio landed a big order. It’s been a little hectic.”

That brief exchange ended.

And with perfect unspoken understanding, neither of us said anything further.

Julian lowered his eyes to look at me, and I had no idea what he was thinking.

He didn’t say.

And I didn’t ask.

That had almost become the norm over our five years of marriage.

People always said that after around three years of marriage, couples entered the so-called burnout phase.

Love slowly turned into family affection, and conversation sharply decreased.

But Julian and I had been like this from the very beginning.

Put nicely, we treated each other with courtesy and respect.

Put bluntly, we were high-end roommates.

Our daily interactions were basically limited to exchanging a few token words of concern, then going off to handle our own lives.

When I came out of the bathroom, I found Julian sitting there in a daze.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised.

He had always been the kind of person who managed time to ruthless perfection, the sort who used every minute for maximum value.

I never would have guessed he was capable of zoning out.

I pulled back the covers and got into bed by myself.

Julian turned off the lights naturally.

But my thoughts were a mess.

For a moment I was thinking about eighteen-year-old Julian.

The next moment, I had a headache over the word divorce.

Was I really going to divorce him?

04

I met Julian five years ago.

At the time, I had been out of college for only one year.

With startup money from my family, I founded my own jewelry design studio.

To expand my client base, I began attending every gala, charity banquet, and cocktail event I could.

At one such dinner, Julian approached me first and said the necklace I was wearing was beautiful.

Back then, Julian didn’t exactly have the most respectable reputation in elite circles.

There were endless scandals around him, endless women by his side.

And a man like that would naturally be a prime customer for jewelry and gifts.

So with the mindset of making a huge profit off him, I added him.

But strangely enough—

for an entire six months, Julian never bought a single piece of jewelry from me.

I was so annoyed that I felt every meal I’d had with him had gone to waste.

So I stopped contacting him first, and in my heart, I slapped a label on him.

Cheapskate.

Later, we lost contact for about three months.

And during that period, my studio ran into funding problems.

But my pride wouldn’t allow me to go home and ask my family for money.

So I searched everywhere for investors, capital, partners, channels—anything.

At one business dinner, I ran into Julian again.

I pretended not to know him and dealt with him politely and formally.

Julian played along with my act and never exposed me once.

After the event ended, I squatted by the roadside alone, letting the wind clear the alcohol from my head.

Julian’s car pulled up in front of me.

He got out and crouched down beside me.

His tone was gentle enough to be almost surprising.

“Miss Bennett, I’ve been wanting to ask you—why exactly did you block me?”

I ignored him.

Even after being snubbed like that, Julian didn’t get angry.

“Alright. I’ll just assume it was my fault.”

“So then—may I have the honor of driving you home?”

I agreed.

Once I got in the car, Julian started talking about the operating state of my studio.

Although the man really was cheap,

when it came to identifying problems, he was also frighteningly sharp.

I listened, slightly dazed, and my gaze drifted to the side of his face.

To be honest,

Julian really did deserve to be considered one of the most eligible bachelors in high society.

Back then, I even found myself wondering—

who exactly would ever make a man who looked this flirtatious and untamable stop?

Perhaps my gaze had become too obvious.

Because Julian suddenly laughed softly.

“Mia, pull your eyes back. I’m still driving.”

Only then did I realize my face had grown hot. Flustered, I looked away.

I’d originally planned to close my eyes and nap for a while.

But unexpectedly, Julian asked,

“What were you thinking about just now?”

Maybe I really had drunk too much.

Because I actually blurted out the truth.

“I was thinking about who you’ll marry someday.”

Julian suddenly pulled the car over.

Puzzled, I turned to look at him.

And then I heard him say,

“Mia, if possible, I’d actually like to marry you.”

At the time, I must really have been drunk and not thinking clearly.

I barely thought at all before asking back,

“And what would be the benefits of marrying you?”

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.

They sounded far too calculating.

I was just about to say something to recover the situation, but Julian thought for a moment very seriously before answering,

“Money, resources, identity, status—I can give you all of those.”

“And if that still isn’t enough—”

“I’m willing to lay everything I have at your feet, and let you step on me to reach whatever it is you want.”

05

Maybe it was because, growing up, my father’s harsh and almost oppressive way of raising me had made me desperately want to prove myself.

Maybe it was because Julian himself was simply that compelling.

In any case—

I agreed.

And he was probably afraid I would change my mind.

Because early the next morning, he dragged me straight to City Hall and got the marriage license done.

Lying in bed now, I blankly thought back over everything from five years ago.

I didn’t even notice when Julian moved closer.

Not until his hand suddenly gripped my thigh did I snap back to the present.

His kiss landed against the side of my neck.

His voice was low.

“The deal in my hand is almost wrapped up.”

“It feels like we haven’t done this in a long time.”

A long… time?

Did he mean four days?

Wasn’t that a perfectly normal frequency?

Under ordinary circumstances, I probably would have just let him.

But today was different.

My head was full of that eighteen-year-old Julian.

I was still worried that he might pull some outrageous stunt at any moment.

So I pressed down on the hand of his that was moving lower.

“I’m kind of tired.”

Julian’s movements stopped.

After a few seconds of silence, he pulled my nightdress back into place for me.

“Mm.”

“When this busy stretch is over, I’ll take you on a vacation, alright?”

I neither agreed nor refused.

I just used the safest vague answer in the world:

“We’ll see.”

06

Mia had fallen asleep.

But Julian couldn’t.

His sense of smell had always been extremely sharp.

The moment Mia came home, he had caught the lingering scent of an unfamiliar perfume on her.

If it had been women’s perfume, that would have been one thing.

But it was men’s cologne.

Normally, men’s cologne didn’t linger that heavily.

Yet the smell on Mia had lasted all the way until she got home.

Had she shaken someone’s hand?

Or had she hugged someone?

That old violent restlessness deep inside Julian suddenly began to stir again.

He laughed softly, then carefully lifted the covers and got out of bed.

The moment he stepped into the dressing room,

his eyes landed on a bottle of cologne on the perfume display—one he recognized all too well.

It was the exact scent he had loved most when he was younger.

Julian didn’t hesitate for even a second. He picked it up and threw it straight into the trash.

“Disgusting.”

“Terrible taste.”

After finally getting rid of the offensive thing, he returned to the bedroom.

He pulled Mia gently into his arms.

Wife.

His wife.

Then he drew in a deep breath.

And in his heart, Julian comforted himself:

It’s alright.

Mia loves him.

The first time they met, she had taken the initiative to ask for his contact information.

Later, she had asked him out again and again of her own accord.

Even when misunderstandings came between them, she still appeared at places where he was.

She had even been willing to marry him.

If none of that counted as love,

then his ability to understand human emotion was probably no more developed than that of an adult slipper.

So.

What he needed to do now was endure.

Give Mia enough time to deal with the troublemaker who was trying to destroy their marriage.

That bottle of cologne was the provocation of the person outside.

If Julian confronted Mia over something as trivial as a bottle of cologne,

that would mean he had fallen right into the third party’s trap.

He wasn’t that stupid.

But if his wife truly had her heart thrown into chaos by something outside—

Julian didn’t mind using a few dirty methods to teach that arrogant little brat how the world worked.

07

When I woke up the next morning, Julian had already gone to the office.

I got ready slowly, ate breakfast slowly.

And when I finally picked up my phone, I realized it had practically exploded with notifications.

At first I thought some client must have had an issue.

But when I opened the messages, I couldn’t help rolling my eyes.

From the moment I got home last night

until now,

little Julian had sent me several hundred messages almost without pause.

At the beginning they had been fairly normal, asking random questions one after another.

But the further it went, the more outrageous they became.

To the point that I seriously suspected he was trying to dig through my entire life story from beginning to end.

The messages right before bed had been especially ridiculous.

[Are you asleep yet? Are you sleeping with him? Are you sleeping in the same bed?]

[Why aren’t you replying, Mia? What are you two doing?]

[Remember, you’re planning to get divorced. You need to follow the rules, got it?]

[MIA!!!]

…

There were too many.

So many that my eyes hurt just looking at them.

I skimmed through everything from beginning to end and finally let out a soft scoff.

Then I muttered under my breath,

“Such childishness…”

08

I originally thought little Julian was acting so restless and abnormal only because he had suddenly been thrown ten years into the future.

Facts proved that I was wrong.

That afternoon, I had just finished a meeting.

When I walked into my office, I found Julian sitting grandly in the armchair.

He had changed clothes today.

White shirt. Black slacks. The top two buttons undone, revealing a sharp, attractive line of collarbone.

I froze for a second.

That face, paired with that outfit, made him look almost exactly like big Julian.

Except for his eyes.

Big Julian’s gaze was restrained.

It was the kind of composure and control polished slowly by time and experience.

But little Julian’s gaze was fully unleashed.

Like fire. The kind that burned against your chest and gave you nowhere to hide.

When he noticed me staring, he snapped irritably,

“What are you looking at?”

“Never seen a young man before?”

Right.

Still just as arrogant.

I said helplessly,

“…What are you doing here?”

“You dumped me in that stupid villa for an entire day and night and didn’t even reply to a single message.”

As little Julian spoke, he swaggered toward me.

Then he plopped himself right onto my desk.

With a half-smile that wasn’t really a smile, he looked down at me.

“I’m here to supervise the progress of your divorce.”

My temples started pounding.

“Get down.”

“No.”

“Get down.”

“No.”

I took a deep breath and reached out to pull him off.

Instead, he used the chance to yank me toward him, and I fell straight into his arms.

That familiar cologne flooded my nose in an instant.

The scent of youth.

Scalding body heat.

And a heartbeat loud enough to make my ears ring.

I had no idea whether it was his or mine.

“Mia.”

He spoke above my head, his voice muffled.

“You smell like him.”

I struggled, trying to get up.

“Well, obviously. We live together.”

“No.”

Little Julian’s arms tightened suddenly, trapping me more firmly.

“I won’t let you smell like him.”

I was so angry I almost laughed.

“Julian, is there something wrong with your brain?”

Maybe people really shouldn’t curse behind others’ backs.

Because I had barely finished insulting him when Julian’s call came through.

I shot little Julian a warning glare, then answered.

“Should I come pick you up tonight?”

“I booked a restaurant. I heard the night view is good.”

I was just about to reply.

When the side of my waist suddenly turned cold.

Instinctively, I glanced down.

Little Julian had a wicked, amused smile on his face.

And in his hand,

he was holding my fountain pen.

The cold touch of it made me jerk on reflex.

But the brat didn’t stop.

Against the violent acceleration of my heartbeat,

the pen slid slowly down along the curve of my waist.

My breathing stalled, and I stared at him in disbelief.

He, however, calmly mouthed at me:

Reject. Him.

Then the pen pressed lightly against me in warning.

I said, “…My stomach hasn’t been great lately. You should go eat by yourself.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

Finally, Julian only said one word:

“Alright.”

09

I finally managed to soothe little Julian and send him back to the villa.

All I wanted was to hurry home and lie down for a while.

But the moment I opened the door, I found the whole house pitch-black.

Apparently, Julian really had gone to eat that dinner alone.

An indescribable guilt suddenly rose in my chest.

I let out a long sigh.

I had only taken a couple of steps toward the stairs

when, passing by the sofa, I suddenly heard Julian’s voice.

“Mia.”

“Your assistant said you left the studio at six.”

“It’s nine now.”

A cold sweat instantly broke out across my back.

I hurried to explain,

“I had dinner with a client.”

My tone was steady.

The excuse was natural enough.

He shouldn’t be able to tell… right?

Julian said nothing.

He merely nodded faintly.

With my heart in my throat, I went into the bathroom to shower.

Halfway through, the door suddenly opened.

Me: “?”

Julian walked in directly and stood beside me, staring.

The look in his eyes made my scalp tighten.

I tried to make awkward conversation to ease the atmosphere.

“Cough… did you eat?”

Julian was concise.

“No.”

Me: “…”

I was just about to tell him to eat something casually at least,

when suddenly Julian pulled me into his arms.

He buried his face in my wet neck.

“Didn’t eat.”

“But I want to eat something else.”

…

In the end, I was the one carried out of the bathroom in his arms.

Julian seemed to be in a slightly better mood than before.

But only slightly.

I collapsed onto the bed and watched as he moved back and forth around the room.

Then the phone on the table suddenly began to vibrate.

I hadn’t even had time to reach for it

before a large hand got there first.

Julian’s voice rang out, cool and unreadable.

“Little Julian?”

“A new friend?”

10

My already foggy brain completely shut down on the spot.

Something was wrong.

This was definitely wrong.

Just as Julian was waiting for me to explain,

the call disconnected automatically.

I quietly let out a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately.

I had relaxed too soon.

I had barely opened my mouth to try and explain

when the phone screen lit up again.

A new message popped up.

[Mia, I can’t sleep. Are you asleep yet?]

Julian’s gaze fell on that line of text.

Silence.

The kind of silence that felt like death.

My heart practically stopped.

That strange mixture of guilt and panic surged up all at once.

I was just about to explain.

But Julian cut me off first.

“Do you want to reply to him?”

And before I could answer, he added calmly,

“Your new friend seems like he desperately needs some melatonin. Want me to order some delivery for him?”

Me: “…”

Damn it.

If Julian saw that the delivery address was my villa,

that would be disastrous.

So I said without changing expression,

“It’s fine. Just a not-very-important friend. I’ll reply tomorrow.”

Julian’s face remained bland.

No joy, no anger.

Impossible to read.

But what he did next made the back of my neck go taut.

“Wait!”

“Didn’t you say just once!”

11

When I woke up the next morning, Julian was already dressed in a suit.

I looked at him in confusion.

Julian smiled gently.

“I have to go on a business trip. About a week.”

A business trip?

A week?

Julian did leave on last-minute business trips often enough.

But this one felt too sudden.

Especially since he had just finished that cross-border deal, hadn’t he?

I had a vague feeling that something was wrong.

But looking at his clear, cool profile, I didn’t know what to say.

In the end, I only reminded him softly,

“Remember to rest. Don’t overwork.”

The moment I spoke, I realized my voice was hoarse.

Me: “…”

Julian finished tying his tie and walked toward me.

Then he rubbed my collarbone in a way that felt impossible to interpret.

“Got it.”

“You rest well too.”

After Julian left,

I lay back down in bed and stared at the ceiling.

After a while, I picked up my phone to check messages.

Unexpectedly,

little Julian hadn’t made a sound after sending that message last night.

Even now, there were no new ones.

After thinking for a moment, I replied:

[I fell asleep early last night. I didn’t see your message.]

But the second I sent it,

the doorbell rang.

I opened the door.

Julian stood outside in a suit.

I was surprised.

“Why are you back? Did you forget something?”

The young Julian outside stared at me darkly.

His gaze moved slowly from my face

down to my neck and collarbone.

I looked at him, baffled.

His jaw was clenched tight, his lips pressed into a straight line.

Suddenly, he reached in through the collar of my clothes, touching the hollow of my neck.

Then his fingertips pressed lightly against the bite marks and kiss marks hidden there.

His voice was frighteningly quiet.

“Mia, is this what you call getting a divorce?”

12

The moment those words fell,

I suddenly realized that the person in front of me wasn’t big Julian at all.

But why…

was he wearing a suit?

As if seeing the shock in my eyes, little Julian withdrew his hand leisurely.

“Oh. Bought it casually.”

I couldn’t help marveling inwardly.

As expected of the same person.

Even their taste in suits was exactly the same.

Julian immediately caught the gap in my reaction.

In an apparently casual tone, he asked,

“He left?”

I stepped aside to let him in and murmured a quiet “Mm.”

The moment I shut the door,

Julian suddenly yanked me into his arms.

His palm pressed hard against my lower back, kneading it over and over with an ambiguous force.

His voice sank low.

“Do you really dislike the idea of divorcing him that much?”

“What exactly do you want from him, huh?”

I suddenly felt that kids really were difficult to deal with.

Before I could think of a way to brush him off,

Julian had already brought out the full force of his vicious tongue.

“What, do you like him because he’s old?”

“Because his legs are getting bad with age?”

“Because in a few years, his birthday cake will need peaches on top instead of candles?”

“Or because after talking for a bit too long, his throat dries out and his mouth starts cracking?”

Me: “…”

His mouth really was poisonous.

Who talked about their future self like that?

When I didn’t answer, the little bit of fake calm Julian had been holding onto finally shattered.

“You like him that much?!”

Like?

I couldn’t help freezing for a second.

From the very beginning, my marriage with Julian had never been built on love.

But over these five years,

Julian really had given me every bit of dignity and glamour that came with being Mrs. Hayes.

I had climbed, step by step, using his resources and ability as my footing.

I had gotten the career, the contacts, the social circle, and the status I wanted.

But just as so many people said—

marriage often also meant the death of novelty.

Even though there had never been a fiery kind of love between us to begin with,

I had still gradually grown tired of it.

Tired of that life that was so stable it bordered on dullness, the same thing day after day.

Julian suddenly lowered his head and bit me, snapping me painfully back to the present.

He glared at me bitterly.

“Mia, do you know what the flower language of sweet peas is?”

I rubbed the cheek he’d bitten and instinctively asked,

“What?”

Julian enunciated each word:

“Old. And. Unwanted.”

Only when the heated, reckless kiss of youth came crashing down on me did I finally realize what he was trying to do.

Oh.

He was stealing his own home.

Looking at that young, beautiful face so close to mine, I blanked out for a moment.

So this was the kind of sharpness and aggression Julian had when he was young?

My thoughts were chaotic.

I suddenly remembered all the scandals about him from before we got married.

Flirtatious.

Passionate.

Untamable.

And yet the Julian in front of me now was also so green, so childish, so petty.

That massive contrast seemed to stir up something in me that had been suppressed for a very long time.

Almost unconsciously, I reached up and touched his soft hair.

Then, with something like encouragement, pinched the tip of his ear.

To be honest,

I didn’t have any sort of virgin complex.

But if given the choice—

who wouldn’t prefer a blank, untouched page?

Besides.

This was Julian.

Just Julian from a different point in time.

At the core, it was still the same person.

And I thought—

my excessively flat and boring life probably did need something new added to it.

13

Big Julian was away on his business trip for a week.

And little Julian ended up living with me in the villa for that week.

I had never understood before why some wealthy married women were so fond of getting entangled with younger men.

Now I understood.

Youth really did have its advantages.

During that week,

there was none of the polite distance of mutual respect between us.

Nor that routine, formal sort of concern.

There was only his childish and direct jealousy, his awkward but earnest attempts to please me.

And all those sudden embraces, kisses, closeness, and possessiveness.

It brought back a sense of freshness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

And for the first time, it made me understand what falling in love actually felt like.

Yes.

I had never been in love before.

My whirlwind marriage to Julian had been the most impulsive thing I’d ever done in my life.

Sometimes I thought—

if I hadn’t married Julian back then,

maybe I would have dated a few people, experienced that youthful kind of recklessness.

But there was no if.

And yet heaven didn’t seem to have treated me too badly.

It had actually sent eighteen-year-old Julian to my side.

…

On the day before big Julian’s business trip was supposed to end,

I told little Julian to leave.

Habit was truly a frightening thing.

All the whispering and clingy affection that had pressed itself against my ear countless times over those seven days had left me feeling a little reluctant to part.