It took a full day for my brain to process everything.

I really did have amnesia.


I was still me, and he was still Adrian.

The only difference? We were married with a child.

But those divorce papers on my bed told another story—our marriage was falling apart.


Had I cheated on him?

Impossible. Why would I ever cheat on someone like Adrian? The man was gorgeous and brilliant.


Had I completely lost it?

Where had it all gone wrong? And how could I recover my memories?

I tugged at my hair in frustration, my mind a complete blank, anxiety gnawing at me.

"Mommy."

A soft knock. I looked up to see the boy's adorable face peeking through the door crack.

"Daddy says you need to clean your hand. He told me to bring you this."

His little hands clutched a bottle of iodine like a precious treasure.

I beckoned him in with a gentle wave.

"Mommy's hand hurts a bit. Can you bring that over here, sweetie?"

He hesitated, then nodded and shuffled over, carefully placing the bottle on my bedside table.

With my good arm, I lifted him onto my lap. I studied his face—my bright eyes, Adrian's nose, Adrian's perfect jawline. He was breathtaking.

This was our child. Mine and Adrian's.

I couldn't resist—I hugged him tight and kissed his cheek. He smelled of baby powder and innocence. I wanted to hold him forever.

His face flushed bright red.

He froze momentarily before wrapping his tiny arms around my neck in a fierce hug.

He nestled his head against my shoulder and whispered: "Mommy, you smell nice."

My heart turned to mush. This kid was pure sunshine.

As I savored this precious moment, the door swung open.

Adrian stood in the doorway, watching us.

"Daddy!"

The boy scrambled off my lap and ran to Adrian, arms reaching up.

Adrian had clearly just showered—his casual clothes clung to his still-damp body, making him look effortlessly sexy.

Damp hair fell across his forehead, water droplets tracing paths down his neck.

I swallowed hard. Dear God, the man was gorgeous.

My heart hammered against my ribs as he approached.

Then he spoke, his words like ice water on my excitement.

"Ms. Bennett, isn't it a bit late to start playing mommy to Milo now?"

"I wasn't—I just—"

I tried to explain, but his icy stare told me he wouldn't believe a word.

I gave up on explaining.

"Whatever. Do as you please. I'm leaving."

I walked out of the room as Milo peeked back at me over Adrian's shoulder.

Bitterness flooded through me.

What was the point of having a husband and child when one wanted to divorce me and the other barely knew me?

My mind raced with questions. Why had we even gotten married? Why bring a child into this mess?

I stepped onto the balcony. A full moon hung in the sky, and the night breeze stirred my hair and my chaotic emotions.

Nothing had changed.

Except me.