My Husband Married Me Twice

The woman was crying. Adrian Blackwood could hear her long before he could see her. Her sobs drifted through the darkness, soft at first, then louder, more desperate, as though she had been crying for hours. He tried to move toward her. His feet wouldn't obey. "Wait." The word tore from his throat. The woman stopped crying. For one strange second, everything became silent. Then she turned. Adrian couldn't see her face. Only the outline of her body beneath a white dress. A wedding dress. His heart slammed against his ribs. He took another step. "Who are you?" The woman raised her hand. A ring glittered on her finger. His ring. Adrian stared at it, confused. Then she whispered his name. "Adrian." The sound struck something deep inside him. He knew that voice. He had heard it a thousand times. Loved it. Lost it. Something inside his chest cracked open. He ran toward her. But the distance between them stretched endlessly. "Wait!" She began to disappear. "No!" Adrian reached for her. The woman looked back one last time. Tears streamed down her face. "You promised me." His breathing became ragged. "Promised you what?" Her lips trembled. "That you'd remember me." A deafening crash exploded through the darkness. Adrian woke violently. He sat upright in bed, breathing hard. For several seconds, he had no idea where he was. Then the familiar darkness of his bedroom slowly came into focus. The black curtains. The expensive leather chair beside the window. The city lights beyond the glass. His phone glowing faintly on the bedside table. Adrian dragged a hand down his face. Another nightmare. The same one. For five years. Always the same woman. Always the same white dress. Always the same words. You promised me. That you'd remember me. He looked at his hands. They were trembling. Adrian clenched them into fists. He hated dreams. They were irrational. Unreliable. Meaningless. And yet this one never felt meaningless. It felt like a memory trapped behind a locked door. A memory his mind refused to give him. He reached for the glass of water on his nightstand and took a long drink. The digital clock read 5:17 a.m. He wouldn't sleep again. He rarely did after the dream. Adrian threw the covers aside and walked toward the bathroom. As he passed the mirror, he stopped. His reflection stared back at him. Thirty-two years old. CEO. Blackwood heir. A man who had spent years rebuilding his life after an accident that had nearly killed him. A man who had everything. Except the missing pieces of his past. Adrian touched the faint scar near his temple. The doctors had called it traumatic memory loss. They had told him that some memories might return naturally. Some never did. Five years later, Adrian had stopped waiting. At least, that was what he told everyone. He stepped away from the mirror. His phone began ringing. Adrian glanced at the screen. Marcus Hale. He answered. "What?" "You sound cheerful." Adrian checked the time. "It's five in the morning." "Exactly. Which means you're awake." "I'm always awake." Marcus sighed. "Tonight's Blackwood Foundation gala. Don't forget." "I won't." "And your aunt specifically asked that you arrive before eight." Adrian's expression hardened. "Victoria doesn't get to give me schedules." "Tell her that yourself." "I will." Marcus laughed quietly. "Good. Because if you don't show up, she'll call me seventeen times." "Then turn your phone off." "You're impossible." "So I've been told." Marcus paused. "Another nightmare?" Adrian said nothing. That was answer enough. Marcus's voice softened. "The same one?" "Yes." "Have you ever considered talking to someone about it?" "I've talked to enough doctors." "That's not what I meant." Adrian ended the call. He didn't need therapy. He needed answers. Unfortunately, the only people who might have those answers had spent five years telling him to forget what he couldn't remember. And Adrian was beginning to suspect that forgetting had never been an accident. --- By eight that evening, Blackwood City was glowing. The Blackwood Foundation Gala occupied the top three floors of the city's most prestigious hotel. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Champagne flowed. Cameras flashed. Business executives, politicians, celebrities, and old-money families filled the ballroom. Adrian stood near the entrance in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, looking exactly like the man everyone expected him to be. Cold. Powerful. Untouchable. He hated these events. Too many smiles. Too many people pretending to like one another. Too many conversations where everyone wanted something. "Try not to look like you want to murder everyone." Marcus appeared beside him. Adrian glanced at him. "I don't." Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You look like you do." "Then stop looking at me." Before Marcus could respond, Victoria approached. She wore an elegant black gown and a smile polished enough to fool an entire room. "There you are." Adrian's jaw tightened. "Aunt Victoria." She kissed the air beside his cheek. "You look handsome." "I know." Marcus coughed to hide a laugh. Victoria ignored him. "I need you to meet someone tonight." "No." Her smile remained. "You haven't even heard who." "I don't care." "Adrian." He gave her a warning look. Victoria lowered her voice. "At least pretend to be cooperative for one evening." "That's asking too much." She sighed. "Your father would have—" "Don't." The single word stopped her. For a brief moment, something dark crossed Victoria's expression. Then the smile returned. "Fine." She stepped away. Adrian watched her disappear into the crowd. Marcus leaned closer. "That went well." "She mentioned my father." "Yes." "And she knows I don't like it." Marcus nodded. "Also yes." Adrian picked up a glass of water. "Then she shouldn't do it." His attention drifted across the ballroom. He wasn't sure what made him look. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the faint scent of jasmine that suddenly reached him. Maybe it was the sound of a woman's laughter somewhere behind him. Whatever it was, Adrian turned. And froze. A woman stood near the far end of the ballroom. She wasn't dressed like the other women. No glittering diamonds. No dramatic gown. She wore a simple midnight-blue dress that fell elegantly around her body. Her dark hair was swept loosely over one shoulder. She was speaking to an elderly woman, smiling politely. Adrian stared. His fingers tightened around the glass. Something was wrong. He didn't know her. He had never seen her before. At least, he didn't think he had. Yet his entire body reacted as if she had walked into the room carrying a piece of him. His heartbeat accelerated. His chest tightened. The noise of the ballroom seemed to fade. The woman turned. Their eyes met. Adrian stopped breathing. Her smile disappeared. The color drained from her face. For a second, she simply stared at him. Then her eyes filled with something he couldn't identify. Shock. Pain. Fear. Recognition. Recognition. Adrian's pulse hammered. She knows me. The thought arrived instantly. The woman looked away. She said something hurriedly to the elderly woman beside her, then turned toward the nearest exit. Adrian watched her leave. "Who is that?" Marcus followed his gaze. "Who?" "That woman." Marcus looked toward the exit. His expression changed. Not much. But Adrian noticed. "You know her." Marcus hesitated. "Adrian—" "Who is she?" Marcus didn't answer. Adrian set down his glass. "Marcus." "It's Elena." The name hit him like a physical blow. Elena. He didn't know anyone named Elena. At least, he shouldn't. But somewhere inside his mind, a door slammed open. A flash. White fabric. A woman's hand in his. A ring. Her laughing. His own voice saying— I love you. Adrian staggered slightly. He gripped the edge of the table. "Adrian?" "I'm fine." He wasn't. The woman from his dream was standing somewhere in this building. He didn't know how he knew. But he knew. "Elena what?" Marcus looked uncomfortable. "Elena Marlowe." Adrian repeated the name silently. Elena Marlowe. Something about it felt dangerously familiar. "Why does she know me?" Marcus's face became unreadable. "She used to." Adrian looked at him sharply. "What does that mean?" Marcus didn't answer. "Marcus." "You should talk to your aunt." "Why?" "Because this isn't my story to tell." Adrian's eyes narrowed. Before he could question him further, Victoria appeared. And for the first time that evening, the carefully composed mask slipped from her face. She had seen Elena. She had seen Adrian see Elena. And she looked terrified. Adrian's suspicion hardened. "Why is she here?" Victoria recovered quickly. "Who?" "Elena Marlowe." Silence. It lasted only two seconds. But it was enough. Adrian saw the truth in Victoria's eyes before she could hide it. "You know her." Victoria forced a smile. "She is nobody important." Adrian looked toward the exit. Nobody important. Then why did his heart feel like it had just recognized the woman from his dreams? He turned and walked away. "Adrian," Victoria called. He didn't stop. He pushed through the ballroom doors and entered the corridor. At the far end, Elena was walking quickly toward the elevators. "Elena." She stopped. Her shoulders stiffened. Slowly, she turned around. Adrian approached her. Every step felt strangely familiar. As though he had walked toward her before. As though some forgotten part of him already knew exactly where she would stand. When he stopped in front of her, Elena looked up. Her eyes were glossy. She looked like she was trying not to cry. Adrian studied her face. There was something unbearably familiar about it. "Have we met before?" Elena's lips parted. For one moment, Adrian thought she might tell him the truth. Instead, she swallowed. "No." The answer was barely audible. Adrian stared at her. "You hesitated." "I was surprised by the question." "Why?" "Because you look like someone I've seen before." "Where?" She looked away. "Nowhere." Adrian stepped closer. The scent of jasmine reached him again. His head throbbed. Another flash. A bedroom. Elena sitting on a bed. Her face wet with tears. A wedding photograph between them. Then darkness. Adrian grabbed the elevator railing. Elena immediately reached for his arm. "Adrian!" He froze. Not because of the dizziness. Because of the way she had said his name. Like she had said it a thousand times. Like she had loved saying it. Like she had once had the right to. He looked down at her hand on his arm. She quickly pulled away. "Are you all right?" Adrian stared at her. "You've said my name before." Her face went pale. "I just heard someone call you." "No." He stepped closer. "You said it like you already knew me." Elena's eyes filled with tears. She blinked rapidly. "I should go." She turned. Adrian caught her wrist. The moment his fingers touched her skin, another memory exploded inside his mind. A wedding. A white dress. His hand sliding a ring onto her finger. Her whisper: "I choose you." Adrian released her as though burned. He stared at his own hand. Elena was crying now. Silently. A single tear slipped down her cheek. Adrian looked at her. "Who are you?" She closed her eyes. For several seconds, neither of them moved. Then Elena whispered the words that made his blood run cold. "You really don't remember me." Adrian's heart stopped. He stared at her. "What am I supposed to remember?" Elena opened her eyes. There was five years of pain in them. "You promised you'd never forget me." The elevator doors opened behind her. She stepped inside. Adrian couldn't move. The doors began closing. He finally found his voice. "Elena!" She looked at him one last time. And whispered: "I was your wife." The doors closed. Adrian stood frozen in the corridor. His mind went completely blank. Then his phone rang. He looked at the screen. It was an unknown number. He answered. No one spoke. Then a distorted male voice whispered: "She's back." Adrian's blood ran cold. "Who is this?" The voice continued. "If you want to know why you forgot your wife..." A pause. "...go to the lake house." The call ended. Adrian stared at the phone. Five years ago, he had nearly died at the lake house. Five years ago, he had lost his memories. And tonight, the woman from his nightmares had returned. His wife. A woman he didn't remember marrying. A woman who looked at him as though he had broken her heart. Adrian slowly lifted his eyes toward the closed elevator doors. For the first time in five years, he wanted his memories back. And somewhere in the darkness of Blackwood City, someone was terrified of what he might remember.