My Wife's Boyfriend
【The male lead time-traveled ten years into the past, only to find his wife is still someone else’s girlfriend. His world just ended.】
【All those years of pining, finally winning her over, and now he has to start from scratch.】
【Maeve, his baby, has a boyfriend right now. All he can do is watch. And wait.】
【Somehow, I don’t think this older, world-weary version of him is going to be as patient as his nineteen-year-old self was.】
As if on cue, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
【Hi. Can you break up with him?】
A moment later, another one.
【Or, would you consider having a second boyfriend?】
And then, the final blow.
【I promise I’ll stay hidden until you’re single again.】
1
The bell shrieked, signaling the end of the elective lecture. As I was packing my books, a guy from the back row—one of my classmates—gently tapped my shoulder with the end of his pen.
I turned around. He looked down, a nervous flush creeping up his neck. “Uh, Maeve? Could you… could you help me with this problem?”
I nodded, taking his advanced calculus workbook and sketching out the solution on a blank page.
“Does that make sense?” I asked, looking up at him when I was done.
He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. The tips of his ears were bright red. “Yeah. Wow. You’re incredible, Maeve. Thanks.”
I offered him a polite, practiced smile. “Don’t worry about it. If you have more questions, just ask.”
The words had barely left my mouth when I felt it again. That unnerving, possessive stare.
There it was.
My head turned, my eyes landing on Caleb Chen in the row diagonally in front of me. He was the kind of handsome that was almost severe—a sharp jawline, a straight, noble nose, and pale skin that made his dark eyes look like pools of deep water. Right now, those eyes were fixed on the guy smiling at me, and they were filled with a profound, almost tragic sense of grievance.
When he saw me looking, his expression shifted. The anger melted away, replaced by a flicker of sorrow, of deep, lonely ache. He looked like a loyal dog, abandoned by its owner in the rain.
This was, by my count, the tenth time today.
It had been happening since this morning. Any guy who spoke to me—whether it was a classmate trying to get my number on the quad or an upperclassman I was chatting with at a club fair—Caleb would materialize. He’d find a corner, a shadow, and just… watch. And every time I caught him, his eyelashes would flutter, his face settling into that same look of miserable, beautiful despair.
It was beyond strange.
We’d never even spoken. I knew of him, of course. Everyone at Northwood University did. Caleb Chen. The campus heartthrob, the cold genius who was at the top of the Computer Science department. But our paths had never crossed. I commuted to campus, I didn't live in the dorms, and I kept to myself. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what I could have possibly done to attract the attention of someone like him.
Just as I was about to give up and actually go ask him, the ghost-like text scrolled across my vision again.
【A 29-year-old man would stare daggers at any man near his wife. A 19-year-old Caleb can only stand there, telling himself he has no right to be jealous.】
【LOL. The internal monologue of a desperate husband: Every single man approaching my wife is a goddamn predator!】
【He time-traveled from 29 back to 19. His wife is with someone else. His world already ended, and now these guys keep buzzing around her. He’s losing it.】
【Imagine pining for someone for years, finally having them, and then having to do it all over again. Who wouldn’t go insane?】
…
2
I blinked hard, confirming that I wasn’t, in fact, hallucinating.
Caleb was in love with me?
My future husband?
So this wasn’t the nineteen-year-old Caleb I saw. This was my husband from the future, trapped in his younger body?
My mind reeled, trying to process this impossible information. Another comment popped up.
【Tough luck. His baby Maeve is dating her childhood friend right now. All he can do is suffer.】
【Yeah, but I have a feeling this older version of him isn’t going to suffer in silence for long.】
…
Dating?
Right. I remembered now. Jackson, my childhood best friend, had been dating the most popular girl in his department and she’d dumped him. Then, to twist the knife, she’d invited him to her birthday party.
He had offered me his entire month’s allowance to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, just to save face. I didn’t need the money, but Jackson could be relentlessly annoying. He whined and pleaded for days until I couldn't take it anymore and finally agreed.
Could Caleb have seen us that night?
Just as I was mentally cursing out my ridiculous best friend, a text from him lit up my phone.
【Maeve, CODE RED! I need a favor!!!】
Before I could type a reply, the back door of the lecture hall flew open.
Jackson, his features sharp and frantic, stormed in. He grabbed my backpack with one hand and yanked me out of my seat with the other, pulling me toward the exit.
“Jackson! What the—”
CRASH!
The chair I’d just been sitting in snapped back against the desk, the sound echoing through the emptying room. It cut me off, freezing both me and Jackson in our tracks.
I looked back.
Caleb was standing there, silhouetted against the light from the hallway. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his cheek. His eyes were locked on the spot where Jackson’s hand gripped my arm, and his expression was a raw, unfiltered canvas of devastation, anguish, and a desperate, clawing hunger.
His throat worked. When he spoke, his voice was a rough, strangled whisper. “Sorry. I stood up too fast. Hope I didn’t scare you.”
Jackson, oblivious, just kept pulling me toward the door. “No worries, man,” he called back over his shoulder. “Eager to get out of class, I get it.”
The silent commentary in my head went wild.
【Okay, he can’t take it anymore. Forget being the top student. Forget his moral compass. Forget a slow, patient plan. To hell with all of it. I. Want. My. Wife.】
【Don’t do it! Don’t provoke this desperate husband any further! He’s really going to lose his mind!】
【Maeve, don’t go! Maeve!】
I replayed the scene in my head—the shattered look on Caleb’s face.
I had a sinking feeling I’d just made him feel like a man watching his wife abandon him for good.
3
“Maeve. My beautiful, kind, goddess-like Maeve. You don’t have any more classes today, right?”
Outside, Jackson leaned against his flashy new sports car, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture. “Mandy’s going to be at this party later. And she’s bringing her new boyfriend. Please, just come with me.”
“Jackson, you’re certifiably insane. No. I’m done. This whole fake-girlfriend charade is ruining my actual romantic prospects.” The image of Caleb’s face flashed in my mind. I shot Jackson a cool glare and refused flatly.
He froze, his eyes widening. “Prospects? You’ve never cared about that stuff. What gives? You actually have your eye on someone?”
“What’s it to you? You’re allowed to date, but I’m not?” I shot back, arching an eyebrow.
“Tch. Fine, don’t help. I’ll just find a new girlfriend tomorrow. It’s not like it’s hard for a guy who looks like me,” he scoffed. “But you, you better be careful. Don’t get played. You want me to vet the guy for you? Out of the kindness of my heart?” He paused, his expression turning sly and vaguely threatening. “And hey, when we graduate and move abroad, don’t come crying to me when you need someone to look after you in a foreign country.”
Jackson’s features were sharp, his words laced with a petty, passive-aggressive sting.
I kicked the tire of his precious car. “Maybe you should cure your abysmal sense of direction first,” I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “We’ll see who’s looking after who.”
As we bickered, the comments flickered back to life.
【Wait, so she’s NOT his girlfriend? It’s fake? An act?】
【Hahaha, Caleb’s world is crashing down all over again. In the last timeline, he crushed on her through high school, then through college. He didn’t dare approach her until she came back from overseas and they met at a gala. He used a business partnership as an excuse just to get close.】
【This is what happens when you don’t use your words, kids. If only he’d had the courage to just ask her back then.】
【Well, come on. Nineteen-year-old Caleb had nothing. Maeve and Jackson were childhood friends, from the same world. It was a perfect match on paper.】
【Looks like even after he became a tech mogul, he was still too scared to ask her about it.】
【Of course he was. When she proposed their marriage of convenience, she framed it as a ‘strategic alliance.’ He thought it was purely business the entire time. He quietly transferred most of his assets to her name later, just to be safe.】
…
As I was engrossed in the scrolling text, my phone vibrated. A new message from the anonymous number.
【Hi. Can you break up with him?】
I blinked. Before I could process it, another came through.
【Or, would you consider having a second boyfriend?】
And a third.
【I promise I’ll stay hidden until you’re single again.】
My thumb hovered over the screen. I typed out a single name.
【Caleb?】
I hesitated, debating whether to hit send. Just then, Jackson leaned over my shoulder. “Who’s that? The new romantic prospect?”
My hand flinched. The message sent.
A muscle in my temple twitched. I locked my phone and turned to glare at Jackson.
“What? So secretive now,” he sniffed, his face turning cold as he opened his car door. “Want a ride?”
“No thanks. I’m meeting Sienna for some shopping. You go on ahead.”
At the mention of Sienna’s name, Jackson got in his car without another word, peeling away with a roar of the engine.
4
“Where’s that idiot Jackson? I’ve been back in the country for a week and he hasn’t even come to pay his respects to her majesty?”
Sienna tossed her thick, honey-blonde curls over her shoulder, her stunning face twisted in a look of annoyance.
I lounged on a plush sofa in the designer boutique, half-watching a model strut down an in-store runway. “He said the last time you were back, you forced him to be your practice model for a photoshoot and spent the entire time yelling at him. He claims it left him with emotional scars.” I explained, referring to our other childhood friend.
A cold smirk played on Sienna’s lips. “Don’t worry. I’m over him. I passed by this auto body shop a few days ago and saw an absolute specimen. Grade-A, top-tier material.” Her eyes lit up. “I’m taking you there later. I’m going to get him to be my next model.”
A specimen?
Caleb’s face materialized in my mind.
I pulled out my phone, my thumb tapping the screen.
No new messages.
I arched an eyebrow.
That evening, after Sienna had finally shopped to her heart’s content, she revved the engine of her new motorcycle and drove me to the auto shop she’d mentioned.
The owner’s eyes lit up when he saw us. Before he could speak, Sienna pointed a manicured finger at a man working in the back.
“I want him.”
The man looked up, his expression bored and indifferent. But when his eyes landed on me, he froze for a fraction of a second.
I watched him, a slow smile spreading across my face. It was Caleb, dressed in a black tank top that showcased his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The muscles in his arms were lean and powerful.
“Well? A specimen, right?” Sienna whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “Perfect proportions. The golden ratio. He’d be magic on camera.” Her voice was filled with the feverish passion she reserved only for her art.
“Yeah,” I murmured, my eyes fixed on Caleb as he started walking toward us. “A total specimen.”
5
Caleb’s hands, covered in work gloves, slid methodically over every inch of the motorcycle’s frame. He was meticulous.
“Hey, handsome. What’s your name?” Sienna draped an arm around my shoulders, her approach as subtle as a pyramid scheme recruiter. “You work here? How much do they pay you? Ever thought about a side gig that pays better and is way easier?”
Caleb didn’t even look up, but he answered politely, his words clipped. “Caleb.”
“I help a friend out here sometimes.”
“Not interested.”
Sienna pouted. Her phone buzzed, and with a disinterested glance at the screen, she wandered off to take the call.
My gaze settled on Caleb’s broad back, appraising him freely.
He paused in his work, then straightened up, pulling off his gloves. “Your friend’s bike is fine. Nothing wrong with it.”
I held his gaze. “Is that the only thing you wanted to say to me?”
His eyes flickered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
I waited, patient.
Just as the gloves in his hand looked like they were about to be twisted into shreds, he finally spoke. “Just now…”
He only got out two words before stopping. I followed his gaze and saw Sienna walking back towards us, her face a mask of annoyance.
She tossed a set of keys into my lap. “Maeve, my mom’s doing a surprise inspection at my apartment. You take the bike back for me, I’ll pick it up from your place later.”
Sienna’s mother had expressly forbidden her from riding motorcycles, even cutting off her credit cards once to prove her point.
I saw Caleb’s eyes fix on the keys in my hand, his brow furrowing slightly.
After Sienna left, I dangled the keys. “What’s wrong? Want a ride?”
I was just teasing him, but he placed a long-fingered hand on the bike’s frame, his dark eyes looking down. “Can I drive? I’ll take you home.”
I raised an eyebrow, thinking he was just trying to show off. But then, the ghostly text appeared again.
【The second Maeve is near a motorcycle, Caleb’s hair stands on end.】
【He’ll probably never forget the time she crashed with friends after high school graduation and ended up in the hospital.】
【He went to the hospital every single day back then, just to catch a glimpse of her from down the hall.】
I thought back. He was right. That did happen.
So the comments were telling the truth.
I tossed the other helmet to him. He caught it against his chest. I winked. “Alright.”
As he stood in front of me, adjusting his helmet, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his waist.
His hands froze. His entire body went rigid, every muscle pulled taut. It felt like a war was being waged inside him—a battle between extreme self-control and a secret, thrilling excitement.
6
Caleb drove smoothly, keeping the speed steady and safe.
The ride wasn’t fast, so by the time we reached my apartment building, we were both a little damp from a sudden downpour.
I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for my floor. Caleb stood outside, his silhouette sharp and defined. Rain had plastered his hair to his forehead, giving his usually severe face a roguish, untamed look that didn’t quite belong to him. His damp tank top clung loosely to his torso, offering tantalizing hints of the defined abs beneath.
As the elevator doors began to slide shut, our eyes met.
“Caleb,” I said, my voice deliberately casual. “Want to come up and wait for the rain to stop?”
Silence. No response.
Suddenly—
BANG!
Just as the doors were about to close, a clean, strong hand shot out and stopped them, trembling slightly.
Caleb’s dark eyes were burning with an overwhelming mix of emotions. But the tips of his ears were red.
I smiled and stepped aside, making room for him.
Once inside, I flicked on the lights. “Do you want to take a shower, or just use a towel?” I asked, glancing at the storm raging outside my window. It looked like it was settling in for a while.
“A towel is fine,” he said. He remained in the entryway, refusing to step further into my space, as if he were restraining himself from crossing some invisible line. The perfect, polite gentleman.
I looked at him and laughed. “Did you look this proper when you sent me those texts?” I teased. “Brave enough to come home with me, but too scared to take your clothes off?”
His arm muscles tensed. The overhead light cast a shadow across his brow.
I poured a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter, my eyes slowly trailing over him. “Caleb, you should know something about me. I’ve only ever been interested in the best of the best.”
He looked up slightly, understanding my meaning.
A clap of thunder shook the building.
He walked toward me, each step deliberate. With a single, fluid motion, he pulled the clinging tank top over his head. A thin red cord was tied around his neck, disappearing below his collarbone. As he moved, I saw it held a small, smooth silver medallion. My eyes followed the line of that cord down, past his collarbone, over the hard planes of his abs, to the lean line of his waist.
In a heartbeat, he was in front of me. He leaned in, planting his hands on the counter on either side of me, trapping me in his space. “Does this meet your standards, Miss Maeve?” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, laced with a mix of anxiety and hope.
I tilted my head, my gaze slowly, deliberately, dropping lower.
And lower.
Until—
A hand clamped over my eyes, plunging me into darkness.
I heard Caleb’s voice, rough and strained with effort. “I want to be your boyfriend. Not… not just for this.”
Then, the sound of hurried, almost panicked footsteps retreating toward the bathroom.
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