Chapter 1

My boyfriend, Samuel Grant, got into a car accident, and when he woke up, he claimed he'd traveled back from three years in the future. He said our future was a mess, that love wouldn't survive once real life kicked in. So, according to him, the best thing to do was not to get married at all, so everything could stay perfect in memory.

I rushed to his party, desperate to tell him that I'd been found by my biological parents—a wealthy family who wanted me back. Maybe if he knew, things would be different. But before I could step inside, laughter drifted through the doorway, followed by familiar voices.

Someone laughed, "Man, that whole time-travel crap? Only Wendy would be dumb enough to believe that. You really messed her up with that story." Then came Samuel's voice, low and slightly slurred from the alcohol. "Wendy did a lot for me, I know, but when I look at her, all I can see is a dull life ahead—bills, chores, arguments over nothing. It's suffocating."

*****

Samuel's friend, Tom, laughed, "That's right. Wendy's sweet and all—pretty enough too—but she's got that broke-girl vibe, you know? No class. If anyone deserves to be with you, it's someone like Sophia Summers. A real heiress."

He nudged Samuel with his elbow. "I mean, look at you. With that face, even a rich girl would fall head over heels. Just remember to throw us a bone when that happens."

Samuel didn't answer. He just lifted his glass slightly, as if to acknowledge the comment.

Inside, laughter and chatter filled the room. Outside, I felt like I'd just been dropped into an ice bath.

As ridiculous as it sounded, I could accept the idea that Samuel had somehow "time-traveled". But when he was lying in that hospital bed, telling me we should break up because "poor couples never last", I understood what he really meant.

I grew up in an orphanage. Samuel was from a single-parent family. His mom was bedridden for years, and life had never been easy for him. We met in college, handing out flyers for part-time work.

For the past ten years, we'd leaned on each other through everything. It hadn't been easy.

In college, we worked odd jobs to pay tuition. During the summer, when it was nearly forty degrees out, Samuel insisted on doing both our shifts so I wouldn't get heatstroke.

When winter came, he took on endless ghostwriting gigs just to buy me a warm down coat.

After graduation, I gave up the chance to go to grad school so I could start working and support him while he studied.

When his mother passed away and he couldn't afford the funeral, I secretly went to a sketchy clinic to sell my blood and covered the cost myself.

That was how we got through—stitch by stitch, day by day. This year was supposed to be the first time we finally had enough to start a new life together.

For the first time, things were looking up. But then Samuel started pulling away—coming home less, making excuses, and always being distracted.

And a month before our wedding, he got into a car accident. When he woke up, he told me he was from three years in the future.

It was a ridiculous excuse, but I understood what he was really saying. He was scared.

We'd been through too much hardship, and temptation was everywhere.

Life wasn't a fairytale, and love didn't always survive reality. It had taken me years to fully believe in our future.

But today, I came to tell him the truth that I'd found my birth parents. I didn't say anything before because I wanted it to be a surprise.

They were the Yeats family—the real estate tycoons of Stonebridge. I was not after their money or inheritance, but it meant we didn't have to struggle anymore.

We could finally have a future worth looking forward to.

Marriage was supposed to be the start of that new life.

But now, it was all over. He had chosen someone else's version of the future instead.