My Wife’s 18-Year-Old Self Crossed Time

My wife showed up to finalize our divorce just as Id finally managed to calm down her 18-year-old self.
The moment she heard the word divorce, she exploded all over again.
She started pacing, ready to charge out the door.
How dare she divorce my future husband! Who the hell does she think she is?

1
I had to sneak away from the 18-year-old Celia to meet the 30-year-old Celia at City Hall to sign the papers.
On the way there, the younger version must have woken up, because she called me.
"Where are you?"
I shot a nervous glance at the woman driving beside me and lowered my voice. "Just out buying something."
"Why didn't you wake me? I'll come find you."
"No, no, don't! I'll be back in a minute!"
After a lot of back-and-forth, I finally managed to talk her down.
"Who was that?"
The Celia in the driver's seat was tense, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"No one. Can we speed it up? I'm worried there'll be a line if we're late."
The words had barely left my mouth when she slammed on the brakes.
"Let's just do it another day."
"Huh?"
"I just remembered I have something to do. We can reschedule the divorce."
Are you kidding me?
Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get out of the house?

2
Celia was my first love.
We dated for five years before getting married.
Unfortunately, the marriage didn't last. Last month, we decided to get a divorce.
But then, out of nowhere, the 18-year-old version of Celia "time-traveled" into my life.
She just appeared in my apartment, bold as brass.
And with the supreme confidence of a girlfriend, she moved right in.
At 18, Celia and I had just started dating.
We were in the honeymoon phase, madly in love.
So when she heard I was planning to divorce her future self, she lost it.
"I'm going to find that old woman right now! Who does she think she is, divorcing my man?"
"Don't you worry," she vowed. "I would sooner kill myself than let you suffer like this."
Even though I explained that it was an amicable split, she refused to believe me.
"A day will come when I don't love you? Impossible!"
"You want a divorce? Fine. You'll have to step over my dead body first."
From that day on, she initiated a full-blown surveillance strategy, shadowing my every move.
Forget getting a divorce.
I could barely even get a moment alone with the other Celia.
I thanked my lucky stars that the older Celia and I were already living separately.
If I had to deal with both of them under one roof, I'd have a complete breakdown.

3
The 30-year-old Celia had no idea about any of this.
Frankly, I didn't see the point in telling her.
To me, the 18-year-old girl and the 30-year-old woman were two completely different people.
One had eyes only for her work.
The other had eyes only for me.
When I got home, the young Celia was sitting on the sofa.
The picture of aloof elegance.
The moment she saw me, she pounced, sniffing me all over like a curious puppy.
I dodged away, ticklish. "What are you smelling for?"
"A woman's scent."
Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't go behind my back to divorce that hag, did you?"
My heart skipped a beat. Her instincts were terrifyingly sharp.
"Of course not. Didn't I promise to give her a chance?"
The younger Celia sighed. "You have no idea how hard this is for me, having to play matchmaker for my own husband and another woman every single day."
That night, while she was in the shower, I called Celia.
I wanted to get this divorce over with as soon as possible.
But a man's voice answered the phone.
"Mr. Hayes."
It was Celia's assistant, Simon.
"Where's Celia?"
"The Director is in the shower and can't come to the phone right now. If you have a message, I can relay it for you."
I was about to speak when the bathroom door in my apartment creaked open.
Guilt shot through me, and I instantly hung up.
The young Celia stepped out, her hair still dripping, with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.
Her 18-year-old body was captivating.
Even after twelve years with Celia, I wasn't immune to that kind of visual assault.
My expression must have given me away, because a smug smile played on her lips. She padded over to me, barefoot. "How do I stack up against her?"
She was talking about her 30-year-old self.
The older Celia stayed in shape, of course, but she was nothing like she was a decade ago. Besides, she was so busy I couldn't even remember the last time we'd been intimate.
Seeing the complicated look on my face, her expression soured.
"Is she... in really bad shape?"
Before I could answer, her eyes widened in horror. "Don't tell me... I let myself go? At thirty? I'm... out of shape???"
Me: ?
Her face crumbled. "Don't say anything. I get it now. I finally understand why you want a divorce. I just I need a minute to process this."
She trudged back to her bedroom, looking utterly defeated.
For a moment, I honestly had no idea how to explain.
My phone rang again. The caller ID said Celia.
"Did you just call me?"
"Yeah. I wanted to ask when you're free to go to City Hall."
Before she could answer, my bedroom door cracked open and a small head peeked out. "Honey, where are my pajama pants?"
I frantically covered the mouthpiece. "On the balcony."
"Oh. Okay."
The door closed.
The woman on the other end of the line went completely silent.
"Leo," she finally said, her voice dangerously quiet, "we are not divorced yet."
"I know," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "That's why I'm trying to schedule a time to sign the damn papers."
More silence.
Finally, she spoke again, each word dripping with ice. "I would hope that until our marriage is officially over, you would maintain a basic level of respect for our relationship."
I thought of the male assistant who was at her place so late at night and let out a cold laugh. "Why don't you take a look in the mirror before you lecture me."

4
That call soured my mood completely.
I lay in bed that night, tossing and turning, my mind replaying twelve years of history with Celia. Sleep was impossible.
Finally, I got up.
As I stepped out of my room, I saw the young Celia sitting in the living room.
She looked up, startled. "Can't sleep?"
"No, just thirsty. Getting some water."
"You touch your nose when you lie."
She walked over to me. "You're upset. Is it because of that old woman?"
This time, I didn't answer.
To my surprise, she puffed out her chest. "Go on. Hit me."
"What?"
"Maybe you'll feel better if you let it out on me."
She squeezed her eyes shut, ready for martyrdom. "Don't worry. I'm young. I can take a punch."
I couldn't help but laugh, giving her a light tap on the chest.
Seeing me smile, she finally relaxed, grabbing my hand and pulling me into a hug.
She mumbled into my shoulder, "I'm sorry, okay? I just don't get how a gorgeous woman like me could suddenly, one day, just let it all go"
She really thought that was the reason!
I sighed dramatically. "I know, right? I was shocked too. I'll buy you some workout equipment tomorrow. We'll start you at 18. Maybe there's still hope."
The look of utter devastation on her face was, I have to admit, immensely satisfying.
Her presence had a way of soothing the anxiety of the divorce.
It felt like I had traveled back to a time when Celia's world revolved around me.
She'd drop me off and pick me up from work, we'd go on dates, or we'd just spend the entire day at home, perfectly content in each other's company.
A few days later, a rumor started spreading around my office: a beautiful young woman was pursuing me.
Eventually, the gossip reached the ears of the 30-year-old Celia.
I was out to dinner with the younger one when she called.
"I hear you have a new admirer."
I glanced at the girl across from me and stepped outside.
"I do. So if you could please sign the papers and stop holding up my future, I'd appreciate it."
"You want a divorce because of her?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"Celia, don't you think it's a little late to be asking that question?"
She didn't ask when I first brought it up. But now that someone else is in the picture, she's suddenly curious.
She sighed softly on the other end. "Leo, how did we get here?"
Yeah. How did two people who were once so in love end up like this?
Just as I was about to answer, I heard Simon's voice in the background.
"Director, the meeting starts in five minutes. The team from Apex is already in the conference room."
"I took the liberty of swapping your usual coffee for barley tea, since I was worried about your stomach. I hope you don't mind."
I hung up.
I stood outside for a moment before going back in.
When I did, I saw two young guys standing by our table, trying to get the young Celia's number.
"Sorry, I have a boyfriend."
"We just want your number. No harm in that."
She looked at them deadpan. "Not happening. My husband has a short leash on me. You should probably go."
She understood how to keep her distance from other men at 18. Why was it so hard for her 30-year-old self to do the same?
I walked over. The two guys looked at me, surprised.
One of them chuckled. "Come on, 'boyfriend' is just an excuse, right? This guy's way too old for you."
The young Celia's face darkened instantly. "You might be young, but you look old as hell."
She wasn't done. She pointed to her chest. "You know what this is?"
The guy just stared, shaking his head.
"A heart that beats only for my husband!"
Then she held up her right hand. "And you know what this is?"
They both shook their heads again.
She smirked. "A fist that's about to rearrange your pretty face."
"Let me hear one more word against my husband, and I'll knock you into next week."
The guys:
Me:
Long after they'd scurried away, she was still fuming, muttering under her breath.
I tried to hide my smile. "I am older than you. It's just a fact. No need to get upset."
"So what? I don't care if you're 18 or 80, if your hair is gray or you have no teeth left. You'll always be my baby to spoil."

5
I don't know if her appearance had somehow rattled the older Celia, but she started contacting me a lot more often.
Just trivial things. Asking if I'd eaten, what I was doing.
I couldn't remember the last time Celia had made small talk with me. It had been years.
But now, her messages just felt ironic.
"Since we've already decided on a divorce, let's cut back on the pointless pleasantries. The next time I hear from you, I hope it's to tell me when you're available to go to City Hall."
"So aside from that, there's nothing else for us to talk about?"
"You're just realizing that now? We ran out of things to say to each other a year ago."
After I said it, a heavy silence fell between us.
It wasn't always like this. As her business grew, as she got busier, the space between us widened.
Work during the day, overtime in the evening, client dinners at night the man by her side for all of it was never me.
After a long pause, she finally just said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
I didn't think much of it, but a few days later, Simon showed up at my door.
"The Director is in a meeting. She said she left a file at home and asked me to pick it up."
I wasn't thrilled about him showing up unannounced, but I went to the study, found the folder, and handed it to him.
He took it but didn't leave.
"Perhaps it's not my place to say this, but as her assistant, I'm concerned about the Director's well-being."
He looked me in the eye. "I heard you're the one who initiated the divorce. Since you've made your decision, you should stop dragging it out and wasting everyone's time. You've already found a younger woman, yet you keep stringing your ex-wife along. The Director is too decent to call you out, but you shouldn't take advantage of her kindness."
"Who do you think you are, lecturing him like that?"
I hadn't even had a chance to respond before the young Celia appeared, a surgical mask covering her mouth.
She glared at Simon. "You're the help, not the boss. So mind your own business. Whatever is going on between my husband and his wife is none of your damn business. I've seen guys like you before. You're just waiting for them to split up so you can make your move. Well, let me tell you something: a guy like you? I wouldn't look twice at you in 12 years, or even 120."
The words shot out of her like a machine gun, relentless and brutal.
Simon was stunned. "You two are living together?"
"Yeah, we are! What about it?" she snapped. "You want to go tattle to your boss? Then go! Stop loitering around here like a bad smell."
It was an overwhelming amount of information to process. Before I could react, she had slammed the door in his face.
The next second, the fierce warrior was gone. She turned to me, her expression grim. "So, it's because of him, isn't it?"
I froze.
She pressed her lips together. "You want a divorce because of that man?"
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
My silence was all the confirmation she needed.
Her face clouded over as she turned to go back to her room. I didn't understand why she was suddenly upset.
"Shouldn't you be happy about this?"
She just scoffed. "Happy about what? That when I'm thirty, my eyesight will be so bad I'll fall for a guy like that? I'd rather just be out of shape."

6
The idea that her 30-year-old self had "cheated" seemed to be too much for her to handle. The young Celia was in a foul mood all day.
That evening, her favorite drama came on, but she stayed in her room.
That's when I knew it was serious.
What if she couldn't accept it? What if she was planning on doing something drastic?
I was about to knock on her door when my doorbell rang.
It was Celia.
Her face was flushed, her hair a mess.
When she saw me, she mumbled my name, her voice hoarse. "Leo."
For reasons I couldn't explain, I slammed the door in her face.
The noise must have startled the girl inside, because her door creaked open.
A small gap appeared. "Who is it?"
"The power company!" The lie flew out of my mouth.
"Oh," she said, about to come out.
I rushed to stop her. "No, no, stay in there!"
Young Celia: ?
"But you said my show was starting"
"I'll bring you the tablet! You can watch it in your room!"
My brain was spinning. "I'm still mad at you! Mad that in 12 years you're going to fall for another guy! I don't want to see you right now!"
She bought it.
Her shoulders slumped even further.
"This is so unfair. It feels like my future self chopped down a tree, and now I'm the one getting hit by the splinters."
Just as her door closed, there was another knock on the front door.
Terrified she'd come out again, I flung the door open and hissed, "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"
"I missed you."
Celia's eyes were glassy and wet.
She looked so much like the girl in the other room it was unnerving.
I sniffed the air. "Have you been drinking?"
She didn't answer, just tried to squeeze past me.
I blocked the doorway. "What are you doing?"
"This is my house! Why won't you let me in?" she whined, pouting. "I want to come home! I want to go to sleep!"
My temples throbbed. While I was trying to figure out what to do, she spotted a gap and darted inside like a rabbit, turning back to give me a goofy, triumphant grin.
She was a completely different person from her sober self.
There was no way I could kick her out now.
I had to put her up for the night.
I was never more grateful that when the younger Celia first arrived, I had insistedon the principle of not corrupting a minorthat we sleep in separate rooms.
Otherwise, this would be a whole new level of awkward.
Celia stumbled into my bedroom and immediately sprawled out on my bed in a perfect starfish.
Her eyes were fixed on me.
I ignored her, grabbing a spare blanket, intending to sleep on the couch. But as I turned to leave, she rolled off the bed and wrapped her arms around me from behind.
"I don't want a divorce."
I froze.
She rubbed her fluffy head against my back. "You're living with her, aren't you?"
Ah. Now I understood.
"Simon told you?"
Celia nodded meekly.
I didn't know how to feel.
"Celia, the person who's been trying to have their cake and eat it too, this whole time, is you, not me."

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