Chapter 5: Truths, Lies, and Rachel

Derek stepped inside, and for a second, I barely recognized him. He had a close-cropped beard, sharp glasses, and a suit that screamed Wall Street. Not the lazy friend who used to sneak out with me to play hoops in the gym after dark.

I blurted, “Whoa, Derek?”

He smirked, rolling his eyes. “What, you forget my face already? Man, you really are out of it.”

Finn ran over, arms wide. “Uncle Derek!”

Derek scooped him up, spinning him once before setting him down. He shot me a look—half greeting, half warning—then straightened his tie. “Let’s talk upstairs.”

I led him to the study and spilled everything—about waking up in a stranger’s bed, about Finn, about the lost decade. Derek listened, arms crossed, lawyer face on, eyebrows climbing higher with every word.

He interrupted, skeptical: “How do you know you time traveled and didn’t just lose your memory?”

I fumbled for proof. “I remember last night—Emily saying yes in the cafeteria. Every detail. The last thing I remember was cramming for finals in 2014. Now it’s 2024, and my whole life’s a rerun I never watched.”

Derek snorted, still not convinced. I dug deeper, telling him about the chicken drumsticks at the college cafeteria, the exact exam questions from ten years ago. “If I’d just lost my memory, no way I’d remember all this.”

He tapped his pen against the desk—a habit he’d had since we were kids. Finally, I blurted, “The day before, I’d just confessed to Emily, and she said yes.”

Derek’s expression darkened. “Man, you never learn.”

Then he started filling me in. Turns out, I really was sick—bipolar disorder. The cause? Emily. She’d cheated on me, stringing me along while collecting guys like baseball cards. When Derek tried to warn me, she accused him of harassment. I’d turned on Derek, even swung at him a few times.

It sounded unreal, but the pain in his eyes was real. I’d become Emily’s loyal lapdog, and she dumped me at twenty-seven—for my own roommate.

I slumped on the couch, hands shaking. “Damn, that’s rough.”

Derek just nodded, looking like he’d run out of words years ago.

I forced a bitter laugh. “So who’s my wife now?”

Derek hesitated. “It’s Rachel.”

I nearly jumped out of my seat. Rachel? The girl who dumped a Slurpee on my head in seventh grade for copying her math homework? Rachel, who always smelled like fresh laundry and vanilla lip balm?

My world spun. I pinched my arm. Nothing changed.