1 I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw glasses or demand an explanation when I found out about Summer. I simply handed Bennett the divorce papers. He sat there, head bowed, the weight of the silence stretching between us until he finally reached out and tore the documents into jagged halves. “Ten days,” he whispered, his voice thick with a struggle I no longer cared to decipher. “Give me ten days. After that, I’ll send Summer away. She’ll be gone, Sienna. Out of our lives for good.” He didn’t wait for my answer. He just stood up and walked out of the house we had built together, leaving the scent of his expensive cologne and a sense of profound rot in the air. And so, the ten days began. Bennett took her everywhere. He took her white-water rafting and hiking up the snow-capped peaks of the Cascades; he took her bungee jumping and skydiving, chasing every adrenaline rush the Pacific Northwest could offer. He also took her to see the sunrise on a secluded beach in the San Juans and to a quiet sanctuary in the Redwoods to make a wish—all the romantic clichés I once thought belonged only to us. Then came the ninth night. I was in our bedroom, zipping up the last of my suitcases, when my phone vibrated. It was a video call from a number I hadn’t seen in a decade. More accurately, it was a call from me—ten years ago. “You really are me from the future!” The girl on the screen was radiant, her face unlined by the bitterness of the years. She looked so damn happy. “So, did Bennett and I get married? Do we have kids yet?” A sharp, jagged pain sliced through my chest. I didn’t answer. Instead, I walked out onto the balcony and turned the camera downward. Below us, in the driveway, Bennett was wrapped around Summer. They were clinging to each other as if the world were ending, a tableau of desperate, agonizing longing. “That,” I said, my voice as cold as the night air, “is the result.” Her eyes widened. The light in them died instantly, replaced by a shock so profound it looked like she’d been struck. “That’s impossible… that can’t be him.” “Sienna,” I said, the exhaustion finally pulling me under, “please. I’m begging you. Don’t marry him.” She started to sob. Great, racking heaves of breath that I could feel through the speaker. “How did it happen? How did we get here?” I didn’t have an answer. I wasn’t sure if I ever would. “You won’t be happy,” I told her, my voice cracking. “Promise me, Sienna. Don’t do it.” She wiped her eyes, her face flushed a deep, bruised red. “But he’s not even here right now. He’s in the Montana wilderness. He went to find that reclusive specialist, the one people say can perform miracles. He went there to save me.” I froze. I had almost forgotten. Ten years ago, a stage accident had crushed my legs. The doctors said I might never walk again. Bennett had been more devastated than I was. He had stayed up every single night, massaging my muscles, changing my dressings, whispering promises into my hair. When we heard about the “Miracle Worker” in the mountains, he didn’t hesitate. He drove through a blizzard and spent three days camped outside the man’s cabin, refusing to eat or leave until the doctor agreed to treat me. I looked down at my legs. They were fine now. But we were broken beyond repair. The irony was a physical weight in my throat. “Do you know who that girl is? The one downstairs?” She shook her head, her eyes wide and wet like a frightened animal’s. “She’s the doctor’s granddaughter,” I said, the words tasting like ash. She stopped breathing for a second, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a wail. “So… Bennett… he fell in love with someone else while he was trying to save me?” “I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe it wasn’t love then. They didn’t reconnect until two years ago—five years from where you are now.” We fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Suddenly, the front door clicked. The electronic lock chirped its greeting. I instinctively hid the phone behind my back. Bennett walked in. He looked at me, his eyes rimmed with red, his entire posture slumped in defeat. He saw my defensive movement but didn’t ask. He just looked hollow. “Are you satisfied now?” he asked, a bitter, jagged smile twisting his lips. “I sent her away. She’s gone.” I stared at him, expressionless. Behind my back, I was digging my nails into my palms so hard I thought I might draw blood. “Satisfied?” I echoed. “Bennett, is this marriage a solo project? Am I the only one who was supposed to be trying?” He didn’t answer. He just yanked off his tie, threw it onto the sofa, and muttered, “Don’t start with the drama again.” He brushed past me, slamming the bathroom door hard enough to rattle the frames on the wall. I stood there, paralyzed. After a long moment, I brought the phone back out. On the screen, my younger self was a mess of tears. “That’s not the Bennett I know. It’s not.” I wanted to cry with her, but I couldn’t. My eyes felt like they were full of sand. “People change, Sienna. That’s the only truth there is.” I reached for my suitcase, ready to leave, when a crack of thunder shook the house. Rain began to lash against the windows in a violent torrent. Simultaneously, a notification popped up on my phone: Flight Canceled. I sighed, the sound catching in my chest. I wasn’t going anywhere tonight. I dragged my luggage into the guest room and shut the door. “You… you sleep in different rooms?” she asked softly from the phone. I hesitated, then nodded. “For almost a year now.” She sobbed again. “But Bennett… right now, he can’t even fall asleep unless he’s holding me.” My heart gave a painful twitch. It had been so long, I’d almost let that memory slip away. Bennett used to have chronic insomnia. I was the only thing that could quiet his mind. We used to be inseparable. “He found someone else to help him sleep,” I said quietly. “Summer has her grandfather’s gift. She knows exactly how to heal him.” A long time passed. Finally, the girl on the screen looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “Three days,” she said firmly. “Bennett comes back in three days. I’ll use that time to let go. To make sure this future never happens.” I nodded. “Good.” 2 The next morning, when I walked into the kitchen, Bennett was already there making breakfast. He acted as if the night before hadn’t happened. “You’re up,” he said, not looking at me. “Eat. I made eggs.” I looked at the plate and felt a wave of profound exhaustion. “I’m allergic to eggs, Bennett.” His hand, currently dolloping hollandaise sauce, froze. He stared at the plate for a beat, then scraped the entire thing into the trash can. “I forgot. Go grab something out, then.” “Okay,” I said, turning to leave. “Don’t you think this is getting a little ridiculous?” he called out behind me. “We’re living like total strangers, Sienna.” I turned back to meet his gaze. There was a faint, lingering confusion in his eyes. I laughed, though there was no humor in it. “No, Bennett. Strangers are at least polite. We’re worse than strangers. But whose fault is that? Mine?” The air in the kitchen turned frigid. We stood there in a deadlock, neither willing to blink, neither willing to lose. His phone rang, shattering the tension. “Fine, Grandpa,” he said into the receiver, his face smoothing into a mask. “Sienna and I will be there on time.” He hung up and rubbed his temples, looking at me with a complicated expression. “Let’s just move past it,” he said. “Tomorrow is Grandpa’s eightieth birthday gala. We’re going together. Don’t let him see the cracks. For one night, just play the part.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Fine.” I walked down to the local diner for breakfast, the video call still active in my pocket. Once I sat down, I broke the silence. “What are you thinking about?” She sounded lost. “I just never imagined we could get to a point where we have nothing to say to each other. No shared jokes, no ‘I love yous.’ Just… blame.” I didn’t answer. Outside, the autumn leaves were being whipped around the pavement by a cold wind. It reminded me of the days he used to carry me on his back when my legs hurt, the sound of his boots crunching on the dry earth. The diner owner walked over. “The usual, Sienna? Smoked salmon bagel, no eggs, right?” I smiled weakly. “Exactly. Thanks, Lou.” Even the guy at the diner remembered my allergy. Bennett had deleted it. The next day, Bennett drove us to the Whitaker estate. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the blurred Seattle skyline. “You know Summer saved Grandpa’s life once, right?” Bennett said suddenly. I turned to him. “Where are you going with this?” He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “She’s at the gala. I didn’t invite her; Grandpa did. He feels he owes her.” I didn’t even flinch. I wasn’t surprised. I forced down the suffocating sensation in my chest and said, “Fine. I don’t care.” It didn’t matter anyway. In three days, the other Sienna would rewrite the script. This “us” wouldn’t exist to suffer through another gala. He seemed stunned by my indifference. He tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Good,” he muttered. “As long as you’re okay with it.” In my earbud, I could hear her crying. I was used to this coldness, but for her, it was like being cast out of paradise and into a frozen hell. “How can he be so cruel to you?” she whispered. I had no words to comfort her. When we arrived at the Whitaker mansion, we barely stepped out of the car before a petite, graceful figure rushed toward us. “Bennett…” Summer stood there, looking like a tragic heroine. “I thought I’d never see you again.” She started to cry, and Bennett was right there to catch her. He didn’t care who was watching. He reached out and gently wiped her tears away. “Don’t cry,” he said softly. “Now that you’re here, I’m not letting anyone send you away again.” I watched them, feeling a strange, detached sense of irony. “Go ahead. I’m not stopping you. Don’t make me out to be the villain in your little star-crossed romance.” Summer’s lip trembled, a flash of something that looked suspiciously like triumph darting through her eyes. Bennett’s brow furrowed. He looked at me as if I were a puzzle he couldn’t solve—he couldn’t understand why I was being so “generous.” I looked away. It wasn’t generosity. I was just done. 3 The guests were watching us, their eyes darting between me and Summer. Some looked sympathetic; others looked like they were enjoying the show. I ignored them all and walked straight into the main hall to find Arthur, Bennett’s grandfather. “Happy Birthday, Arthur,” I said, handing him a gift. “I hope you have a wonderful year.” He smiled at me warmly. “Thank you, dear. I’m glad you’re here.” Bennett followed a few paces behind, with Summer trailing at his side. They looked more like the hosts than we did. Arthur’s smile faltered slightly. He looked at Bennett, then at me, and grabbed both our hands, forcing them together. “So, when am I getting a great-grandchild? That would be the best gift of all.” We both stiffened. I was the first to pull my hand away. Bennett looked startled. “Arthur, about Bennett and me—” I started. “Sienna,” Bennett interrupted, his voice sharp. He turned to his grandfather. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. We’re working on it.” Arthur let out a booming laugh. Bennett immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the rose garden. His expression was dark, simmering with a strange kind of agitation. “What were you going to say?” he hissed. “The truth,” I said. “That we’re getting a divorce. That there won’t be any children.” He gritted his teeth. “Why do you keep bringing up the divorce? I thought we agreed to move past this. Sienna, stop being so difficult.” I looked at him, genuinely confused. “If we hate each other this much, why don’t you just marry Summer and be done with it?” His breath hitched. “Hate? I never said I—” “Bennett!” Summer appeared, breaking the tension. She looked at me, biting her lip, her eyes brimming with faux-innocence. “Sienna, please don’t use Arthur to threaten me.” I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?” “You’re going to tell him I’m the reason you and Bennett are fighting, aren’t you?” Summer sniffled. “You know his heart is weak. You’re trying to force me to leave him by holding his health over our heads. That’s your plan, isn’t it?” I stared at her, stunned by the sheer absurdity of it. I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “You’ve been watching too many soap operas, Summer.” It was a pathetic attempt at manipulation. Surely, no one would fall for it. “Sienna.” Bennett’s voice was low and heavy. “Is that true? Are you threatening me again?” My mouth went dry. He believed her. I started to defend myself, but seeing the accusation in his eyes, the words died in my throat. What was the point? “Think whatever you want, Bennett,” I said. I turned and walked away, not looking back to see the look on his face. In my ear, the younger Sienna was whispering, “Don’t be sad.” My eyes stung. “I’m not. But listen to me—on your end, once the surgery is over and he proposes, say no. Do you hear me?” This time, she didn’t hesitate. “I will. I promise.” I felt a weight lift. Later, at dinner, Arthur went upstairs to rest. With the patriarch gone, the vultures at the table began to circle. “Look at some people,” one of Bennett’s cousins sneered, loud enough for me to hear. “Their husband brings his mistress into the family home and they just sit there like a scared little bird.” “Oh, come on,” another replied. “You know Summer is Bennett’s ‘one who got away.’ She’s the real queen of this house.” I gripped my fork until my knuckles were white, then I let go. I looked up and smiled coldly at the first woman. “Since you’re so brave, tell me—is your husband’s secret son still living in that apartment in the city, or did you finally let him move into the guest house?” Her face went pale, then a blotchy purple. “You! How dare you! That’s family business!” “Then stay out of mine,” I retorted. The table went silent. “Sienna, that’s enough,” Bennett said, his voice stern. I turned to him and realized for the first time that his tie perfectly matched the color of Summer’s dress. It was a subtle, public declaration. The realization hit me like a physical blow. They were mocking me because he allowed them to. I put down my fork. “Bennett,” I whispered, “you are the very last person on this earth who has the right to judge me.” He flinched. I stood up and walked out of the room. The moment I cleared the front doors, the emotions I’d been holding back flooded over. Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn’t stop them. The Whitaker estate was miles from the city. I started walking down the long, winding driveway, the night air chilling me to the bone. Even though the moon was bright, I felt like I was walking into a void. Then, the voice in my earbud spoke, trembling with emotion. “Sienna… Bennett just got back. He brought the doctor.” 4 “Sienna! I’m back. Don’t worry, I’m here now. Everything is going to be okay.” Hearing that voice—the young, tender version of Bennett—felt like a message from a ghost. It had been a lifetime since he had called me “Sienna” with that much love. On the other end, the younger me replied with a cool, detached, “Thank you.” The teenage Bennett sounded hurt. “Thank you? Why so formal, babe?” She didn’t answer. She just told him to get the surgery scheduled. A moment later, she whispered into the phone, “The second the surgery is done, I’m leaving. I won’t be there for the proposal.” I closed my eyes. “Thank you.” When I finally made it back to our house, Bennett arrived shortly after, with a sobbing Summer in tow. He grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising. “Did you tell Grandpa about us?” he demanded. I winced. I had a permanent weakness in that wrist from the accident—the accident I’d had while saving him—but he had clearly forgotten. I shoved him away. “I wouldn’t waste my breath on your sordid little affair,” I said. “You might not have any shame, but I still have my dignity.” He flinched, then narrowed his eyes. “Dignity? You’re so high and mighty, aren’t you? If you tell Grandpa, he’ll send her away. Why play the martyr?” Summer was wailing now. There was a faint red mark on her cheek—likely from a confrontation with one of the other relatives, but she was playing it for all it was worth. “Sienna, please!” she cried, throwing herself onto her knees in front of me. “I just want to be with him. I don’t care about a title! I don’t care about anything else!” Before I could even react, Bennett hauled her up, looking at her with heartbreaking tenderness. Then he turned to me. “Why do you have to be so cruel to her?” he spat. “She’s never asked for anything. She’s content just to be near me. She’s quiet, she’s kind…” He shook his head, looking at me with pure disappointment. “I don’t even recognize you. You’ve become so bitter. You’re nothing like the girl I married.” A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest. I laughed, a jagged, broken sound. “I’ve changed? What about you, Bennett? Who changed first?” In my ear, the young Bennett’s voice was echoing: “The surgery is set, Sienna. You’re going in now. Don’t be scared, I’m right here. When you wake up, we’re getting married. I don’t care if you ever walk again. If you can’t, I’ll be your crutch for the rest of our lives.” His words were so sweet, and they hurt a thousand times more than the modern Bennett’s insults. My eyes blurred with tears. Modern Bennett seemed taken aback for a second. His voice softened, though it was still tinged with arrogance. “Look, just apologize to Summer, and we’ll forget this happened.” I closed my eyes. “Apologize?” I whispered. “To her? Get out, Bennett. Just get out.” “Sienna!” his voice thundered. “If I walk out that door, I’m not coming back!” I didn’t even look at him. “Fine,” he snapped. “Come on, Summer. Let’s go.” The house fell silent. I sat on the floor and began to pack the rest of my things. I headed for the airport. Ten hours later, as I sat in the terminal, the voice in my earbud broke into a sob. “Sienna… it’s over. I sent him away. We’re done.” I felt a sudden, strange lightness. A sense of peace began to wash over me, and curiously, my memories of Bennett began to flicker and fade, like an old film being erased. Meanwhile, back at his office, Bennett was signing papers when a sudden, violent wave of dizziness hit him. He collapsed to the floor. When he woke up, he was in a hospital bed. Arthur and Summer were sitting by his side. “Grandpa? What happened?” He looked around, a frown deepening on his face. “Where’s Sienna? I’m in the hospital and she didn’t even come?” Arthur stared at him, then slapped him hard across the arm. “Your wife Summer is right here! Why on earth are you asking about a girl you haven’t seen in ten years?”
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