I’d convinced myself I’d finally moved on.
Then Michael walked into a family dinner looking unfairly good in a suit, and I realized I’d moved on from absolutely nothing. If anything, the time apart had made it worse. Made me notice things I’d been too young to appreciate before.
But he still treated me the same. Still looked at me like Jack’s sister. Still kept that distance that made it painfully clear where we stood.
Until apparently we didn’t.
Somehow, in the year I couldn’t remember, we’d gotten close enough to get married.
It still felt impossible—like I’d woken up in someone else’s life.
I grabbed my phone and opened social media. I typed in Michael’s name.
His profile was aggressively boring. Photos of his company. Tech conferences. The occasional sunset that probably meant he was traveling for work. Nothing personal. There were no pictures of us. Not even one. No pictures of him with anyone who might be a girlfriend.
I scrolled back six months. Then a year. I found absolutely nothing suggesting he was in a relationship with me.
Google was my last resort. I typed in our names.
The wedding video came up immediately. Thousands of views and climbing. People arguing about whether we were cute or if this was a publicity stunt.
But before that? Nothing.
It was like our relationship had materialized out of thin air the moment we got married.
My door opened without knocking.
Pauline rushed in already talking. “How are you now? Does your head still hurt? What about your medications?—“
“Pauly.” I cut her off. “Breathe.”
She sat on the edge of my bed, looking at me with concern that felt heavy in a way I couldn’t explain. “I’m just worried. This is a lot.”
“You want to tell me how this happened?” I asked.
“How what happened?”
“How I apparently fell in love with Michael Ashford without leaving any evidence.” I gestured at my phone. “Because I’ve been looking, and there’s nothing. There’s no proof we were even dating before we got married.”
Something flickered across her face. Gone too quickly for me to identify. “Michael’s really private about his personal life. He never posts that stuff.”
“That’s… awfully convenient.”
Her expression tightened. “Some things don’t need social media’s confirmation to be real, Claudette.”
“Fine. Then tell me when it started.” I leaned forward. “Where did we go on our first date? What did he say when he told me he loved me? What was the moment you realized we were together?”
Pauline hesitated—just a fraction of a second, but I saw it.
“I don’t know all the details,” she said finally. “You kept some things private too.”
“I kept my entire relationship with Michael Ashford private? The man I’ve been in love with since high school?”
“You wanted to protect it. Keep it just between you two before everyone got involved.”
I sighed exasperated. “Give me something, Pauly. Anything. I’m married to a man I can’t remember dating, and everyone keeps telling me it’s fine without giving me actual information.”
“I saw the way you two looked at each other,” she said. “It was obvious to anyone paying attention. You were happy, Claudette. Really happy.”
