Chapter 1: My Husband’s Not Himself

My husband’s been acting really strange lately. Like, seriously strange.

Lately, things just felt... off between us. Like there was something in the air I couldn't quite put my finger on. He stiffens up when we hug, freezes up when we kiss, and even when we're, you know, together... he just keeps messing up. It's like he's forgotten how to be close to me—or worse, like he doesn't even want to try. Every little touch that used to be so easy now feels awkward, like we're two strangers fumbling through lines in a play we've performed a hundred times.

I was starting to wonder if he wanted a divorce. Then, out of nowhere, I stumbled on his post history:

[woke up and found myself ten years in the future—my high school crush is now my wife! what do i do?! someone help!]

Me:

I'm back.

That thought echoed in my mind as I looked up at the man standing by the front door.

He stood there holding his suit jacket in one hand, two buttons undone at the collar, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Even his usually perfect hair was a mess—tousled and wild, like he'd run his hands through it a hundred times.

He honestly looked like he’d just gotten into a bar fight, not like he’d just come home from a business trip. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he lost a wrestling match with the wind.

There was something almost cinematic about the way he stood there, shadow pooling around his feet, the city lights from the hallway catching in his hair. For a second, I wondered if he’d gotten into some trouble—or maybe just had one hell of a commute home.

I jumped to my feet, startled. Seriously, what happened to him? “Rough day at the office? Why do you look like this?” I tried to keep my voice light, but I was honestly worried.

Nathaniel Brooks didn’t answer. He just stared at me. Not a word.

He just stared at me. For a long, long time.

The silence stretched. I started to get self-conscious. It was the kind of look that made me want to check if I’d grown a second head or something. His eyes were searching, almost hungry, but with a hint of fear hiding there.

Unable to resist, I walked over, grabbed his loose tie, and pulled him inside, grumbling, “What? Haven’t seen me for a few days and now you don’t recognize me?” I tried to sound playful, but I was watching him closely.

Nathaniel let me drag him a few steps before finally stammering out, “I—I recognize you.”

His voice cracked a little, and he looked almost... vulnerable. That was new.

He usually strode in like he owned the place, not some nervous kid at his first dance. Not my Nathaniel. Not usually.

I glanced back at him, feeling weirdly off-balance.

He was still staring. Like he was seeing me for the first time.

He almost looked... young. Awkward, even.

For a second, he looked like the boy I’d met years ago, not the polished man I married. It was weirdly cute—and honestly, a little unsettling.

I gave him a playful glare, wrapped my arms around his neck, and leaned in close: “Missed me that much?” I couldn't help teasing him.

I could feel his breath hitch as I pressed closer.

His eyes darted around nervously, lips pressed in a thin line, fists clenched—like he was trying to be on his best behavior.

Honestly, this version of Nathaniel was kind of hilarious.

After all, every time he came home from a business trip, he was the first to pounce like a wolf.

It was practically tradition. He'd sweep me up, toss his suitcase aside—act like he couldn't get enough of me. Tonight, though, he looked like he was auditioning for a role as the world's most bashful prom date.

I kissed his neck and leaned in, breathing into his ear on purpose. “Didn’t you say on the phone you were going to make me pay?”

I hugged him, felt his body tense. I softened my voice.

“Honey, how exactly are you going to make me pay?” There was just... something off about him.

Just as my hand started to slide down, he suddenly pushed me away! Wait—did he just push me away?

I stared at him in shock. Seriously?

His face was bright red. His voice sounded rough, like he'd swallowed sandpaper. He mumbled, head down, “I—I haven’t showered yet...”

Then he darted into the nearest room—my office—like he was running for his life.

The way he bolted, you’d think I’d threatened him with a cattle prod.

It was so out of character. I just stood there, mouth open, trying to process.

Stunned. Seriously, what was going on?

Rejected by Nathaniel, I sulked on the couch.

He's always the one complaining I'm not forward enough, and now, the one time I make a move, he shuts me down?

What is with this guy! I fumed, crossing my arms, still reeling.

Annoyed, I vowed never to bother with him again, when suddenly I heard a noise.

The office door creaked open.

Nathaniel peeked out at me, then sneaked into our bedroom like he was trying not to get caught.

I raised an eyebrow.

I was still annoyed, but I followed him anyway.

And just as I was about to enter the bedroom—Nathaniel slipped into the bathroom.

The sound of running water came from inside—he was showering. Of course. Hiding in the shower.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding from me.

Resigned, I walked over and tried the bathroom door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Locked. Of course.

It was locked!

Now I was sure—Nathaniel was definitely hiding from me. I felt my suspicion spike.

Normally, he never locks the door. Even when soaking in the tub, he always invites me in: “Honey, don’t you want to shower with me?”

Standing outside the bathroom, I wondered: Did I go too far just now?

But come on, compared to the stuff Nathaniel's pulled, was that really too much?

When hasn't he been the one to kiss and hug me all over? When hasn't he worn me out, day and night, until I couldn't get out of bed?

So why is it that the one time I make a move, he acts like I’m poison?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I was going to give him a piece of my mind when he came out.

And so I waited. For a whole hour.

When Nathaniel finally came out, he looked calm. Not nervous at all. He called out, “Honey.”

I just huffed and turned my back on him. No way was I letting him off that easy.

He hurried over, babbling apologies, trying to coax me: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I just froze up for a second—you know, we haven’t seen each other in days, I missed you so much...”

He buried his head in the crook of my neck and nuzzled me gently. The warmth of him made it harder to stay mad.

That old, familiar warmth crept back in. I looked up at him. “Don’t think you can just make me forgive you by acting cute.”

“You can stay mad, that’s fine.”

He gave me those big, puppy-dog eyes.

For a moment, I felt dazed. Was this really my husband?

He'd always looked at me with love, sure, but it was always mixed with desire. Never this pure, open affection.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched his cheek. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I just feel lucky, that's all.”

He sounded both wistful and dreamy. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his head.

“I can’t believe you’re my wife. I’m so happy!” He sounded almost giddy.

I pushed him away. “We’ve been married for almost two years. Isn’t it a little late for this?”

“It’s never too late.”

He pouted at me. “You can say that kind of thing anytime.”

I decided to let it go and kissed him.

I held the kiss for a full ten seconds—he didn’t move at all. Not even a twitch.

I peeked at him through half-closed eyes.

Nathaniel looked totally shocked. Like he couldn't believe this was happening. He looked torn—wanting to kiss me back, but too nervous.

With my lips still on his, I mumbled, “Not going to kiss me?”

“I am, I am.”

His lips pressed to mine, hesitant at first, then growing more confident. It was like something inside him finally clicked, and he started kissing me carefully, savoring every second.

I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in it for a while, but something still felt off. I couldn't shake it.

...Why does it feel like this is his first kiss? He doesn’t even know how to breathe!

I opened my eyes.

He looked so excited, I couldn’t bear to interrupt him.

Oh well, even clumsy kisses have their own charm.

I decided to forgive all of Nathaniel’s weirdness, but he was still acting strange. It just wouldn’t go away.

The strangest part was—he wouldn’t touch me anymore.

It was really weird! I mean, what was going on in his head?

Since we got married, he's never held out on me before, but now he's acting all pure and restrained. I couldn’t get used to it at all.

Lying in the same bed.

I moved closer to him.

He breathed faster, but he wouldn’t touch me. What was his deal?

I hugged him tight.

His body definitely reacted, but he still wouldn’t touch me.

It was like he’d suddenly taken a vow of celibacy.