Two Souls, One Fate

On our third anniversary, my amnesiac husband suddenly looked at me with red eyes, claiming he'd crossed over from age eighteen.

I'm sorry, babe. How could that bastard betray you? I'm eighteen now. I only love you.

He sobbed, repenting as he blocked his mistress on WhatsApp. I stared, stunned by his smooth performance. For the past year, this version of him had trampled my heart for that woman. Now, he spent every day clumsily trying to please me like a boy in first love.

I thought a miracle had come. Until I overheard him on the phone, his tone careless and cruel.

"Aly, don't be mad. Wasn't the bet to see if she could tell I was faking? Once she's moved and forgives me, I'll tell her the truth. I promise I'll shred her heart for you, okay?"

I stopped walking, my heart chilling. There had never been a lover crossing time. He was still twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell.

But he didn't know. I had truly crossed over from eighteen. And the affection that version of me held for him was nowhere near enough to let him humiliate me like this.

I stood frozen, my mind in chaos.

My memories still stopped before I got together with Adrian. At that time, he had already chased me for an entire year.

He delivered breakfast for a hundred days. He stood under my dorm building on countless rainy nights.

Only then had I slowly opened my heart.

The next moment, I woke up seven years in the future.

On the other end of the phone, Aly Shaw was still laughing.

Adrian, youre so bad.

Adrians voice was lazy, full of unconcealed malice.

If I dont crush her pride completely, how will she learn? All right, Ill go coax her some more. Sleep early.

He hung up and turned to open the balcony door.

When he saw me standing outside, the tenderness on his face instantly switched to panic.

With red eyes, he strode over and pulled me hard into his arms.

Babe, I was wrong. I really know I was wrong.

My head is full of memories from when we were eighteen. I only remember how much I loved you. How could I hurt you for another woman?

If this had been twenty minutes ago, twenty-five-year-old Skye Harper might have cried her heart out and forgiven all the awful things he had done over the past year.

But I was eighteen.

Three days ago, I had only barely agreed to Adrians pursuit.

My mind flashed through what he had done this past year.

When Skye was sick, he let Aly pour all her medicine into the toilet, saying Skye was faking illness to compete for attention.

He threw the cheap silver ring I bought him into the trash, then spent millions buying Aly a three-pound set of gold jewelry.

He said, Aly saved my life. Of course I should treat her like a princess.

On Skyes birthday, he brought Aly into our marital bed.

In that daze, I seemed to feel the pain Skye had felt then.

I trembled with anger and shoved him away.

Adrian froze for a second, then immediately came close again, tears falling in large drops.

Babe, hit me, curse me, anything. Just dont ignore me. From now on, Ill only revolve around you, okay?

I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face.

The sound was crisp.

Adrians face turned from the force, and five red marks appeared instantly on his pale skin.

A flash of fury passed through his eyes.

Then he forced it down, turned back, and looked at me with wounded devotion.

Babe, does your hand hurt? If youre not satisfied, hit this side too.

He grabbed my hand and brought it toward his face.

I pulled my hand back and went to the bathroom to wash it.

Adrian Caldwell, stop acting. Its disgusting.

His body stiffened. His eyes flickered.

Babe, what am I acting about? I really only remember being eighteen

Before I could speak, the doorbell suddenly rang.

Adrians expression shifted. He strode over and opened the door.

Aly stood outside holding a thermal container, eyes red, looking fragile and pitiful.

Adrian, I made your favorite fish soup.

Adrian suddenly raised his voice and snapped, What are you doing here? Get out! My wife is home. If you dont care about shame, I do.

He knocked the container over.

Soup splashed onto Alys calf.

Aly screamed, tears falling rapidly.

Its okay if you dont want me anymore. I wont give up on you

She cried and ran into the elevator.

Adrian slammed the door shut, then turned back with a humble expression, waiting for praise.

Babe, see? I didnt care about her at all.

I stared at his right hand.

When he had knocked over the container just now, his index and middle fingers had crossed discreetly.

That was his secret signal with Aly.

When twenty-four-year-old Skye discovered that signal, she had confronted him without hesitation, and in return, he threw her out of the car in pouring rain.

But eighteen-year-old me only found the signal ridiculous.

The moment the door closed, I saw pain flash across Adrians face.

I ignored him, walked into the guest room, and locked the door.

No matter how hard he pounded on it outside.

I lay on the bed as seven years of love and hate forced themselves through my mind like a cruel film reel.

In the beginning, for those first two years, he had treated me so well it was almost reckless. That was how he made me fall completely.

For the first three years after marriage, Adrian still loved me.

Wherever we went, he held my hand, afraid I would suffer even the slightest grievance.

Everyone in our circle knew that Adrian Caldwells bottom line was me.

Until the fourth year of our marriage.

A car accident destroyed everything.

At the edge of life and death, we both tried desperately to protect each other.

Adrian jerked the steering wheel, wanting to leave the chance of survival to me.

I also unbuckled my seat belt without hesitation and threw myself over him, blocking the shattered windshield with my body.

Blood covered my eyes.

Before I fell into total darkness, I saw a woman in a white dress running toward the car through the window.

That was Aly.

Later, I was in the ICU, fighting for my life.

Adrian woke up first.

When he opened his eyes, the first person he saw was Aly, crying beside his bed.

That accident took away his memory.

He remembered everything except that he had a wife named Skye Harper.

Aly selfishly hid my existence and never mentioned the fact that he was married.

With her day-and-night companionship and intimate care, the amnesiac Adrian gradually fell in love with her.

Until the day he was discharged.

He was full of joy, wanting to be with Aly, only to learn from his assistant that he was already married.

Twenty-five-year-old Skye loved Adrian to the bone.

She had even almost lost half her life saving him in that crash.

What she received in return was his coldness after losing his memory, his violence, and his endless favoritism toward another woman.

I slowly fell asleep, my mind going blank.

The next morning, I opened the door.

Adrian was wearing an apron, carrying fried eggs out of the kitchen.

Babe, I made your favorite runny eggs.

Twenty-five-year-old Skye had forced herself to eat half-raw eggs for a year to match his taste.

But eighteen-year-old me was allergic to raw egg.

I pulled out a chair, sat down, and pushed the plate into the trash.

I dont eat undercooked food.

Adrians smile nearly slipped.

Isnt this your favorite?

My taste changed.

I got up, grabbed my coat, and walked out.

He caught my wrist in a hard grip, strong enough to leave a red mark.

Skye, Ive already humbled myself this much. How long are you going to keep making trouble?

The forcefulness of a twenty-five-year-old man in power showed itself instantly.

I looked at him coldly.

Arent you eighteen? The eighteen-year-old Adrian never dared raise his voice at me.

His breath hitched.

He immediately released me and softened his tone.

Im sorry, babe. Im just too scared of losing you. Let me take you out to relax, okay? We can visit our high school.

Without waiting for my answer, he pulled me into the car.

The car stopped at the gates of City First High.

Adrian held my hand and walked inside, talking nonstop about our high school memories.

Do you remember when we secretly flew a kite on the field and got caught by the dean?

I cut him off.

That was you and your first love. I went to Third High.

Adrian froze.

He did not remember the details of being eighteen at all.

He was relying entirely on the fake memories Aly had fed him, acting deeply in love with me.

He awkwardly changed the subject.

Babe, Ill buy you milk tea. You used to love the taro boba across the street.

He ran over and came back with a matcha frapp with double pearls.

That was Alys taste.

He even casually accepted a tissue from a girl nearby and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

That girl was Aly, waiting there on purpose.

The two of them exchanged a knowing look.

I took out my phone and called a lawyer.

Draft me a divorce agreement. As fast as possible.

Adrian returned and handed me the drink.

I smashed it at his feet.

Green liquid splashed over his expensive leather shoes.

Adrian Caldwell, were getting divorced.

He finally tore off his smile and gritted his teeth.

Skye Harper, you were willing to risk your life for me. Who are you trying to scare with divorce now?

I looked at him.

Done pretending?

He froze instantly, just about to explain.

The next second, Alys sweet voice sounded behind him.

Adrian, you lost the bet. She figured out you were faking.

A bet is a bet. Except for that kind of thing, you have to follow all my plans today. Bring her to tonights party.

Alys voice was not loud, but I heard every word.

Adrian glanced at me, the corner of his mouth curving.

Fine. Ill listen to you.

I turned and walked away, refusing without hesitation.

Im not going.

But he dragged me into the car, floored the gas, and brought me straight back to the villa.

He pulled me into the walk-in closet and threw out a pink floral dress.

Put it on. Youre coming with me tonight.

It was Alys favorite style.

It was also what Adrian now liked.

Twenty-five-year-old Skye had bought a closet full of clothes like this to please him.

I picked up the dress and tore it in half in front of him.

Get out.

Adrians eyes turned red.

He pulled off his tie and locked me inside the closet.

Youll wear it whether you want to or not. When you soften up, Ill let you out.

The closed room had no windows.

But the one with claustrophobia was the current Skye, not eighteen-year-old Skye.

I sat on the floor and stared coldly at the sliver of light beneath the door.

At eighteen, what I had most was backbone.

Six hours later, the door opened.

Adrian stood there coldly, holding a couture gown.

He thought I would be like twenty-five-year-old Skye, crying and begging while clinging to his leg.

But I stood, dusted off my pants, and walked past him straight to the bathroom.

His gaze darkened.

He forcibly pulled me back and shoved the gown into my arms.

Change. Ill agree to one request from you.

The banquet hall was full of lights and wine.

Adrian forced me to enter on his arm.

Everyone in the circle knew how he had degraded his wife for Aly. Countless gazes landed on me, waiting to watch a show.

Aly walked over with a wine glass.

Her dress and mine were from the same collection, as if we were twins.

Adrian. Mrs. Caldwell, she called sweetly.

The rich kids around us began teasing.

Mr. Caldwell, even after losing your memory, your taste still leans toward our Aly, huh?

Adrian did not refute them.

A cruel smile curved his lips.

He turned to me.

Babe, everyones playing a game. Shooting. If you lose, youll toast Aly and apologize for making trouble this afternoon.

On the table lay a modified air gun and several apples.

Adrian had deliberately set up this game to humiliate me and force me to lower my head to his mistress in front of everyone.

I stepped forward and picked up the air gun, weighing it in my hand.

What if I win?

Adrian lifted an eyebrow.

Then do whatever you want.

He fired first.

The apple ten meters away was struck at the edge and fell to the ground.

Pleased, he handed the gun to me.

I did not take it.

I picked up the spare gun on the table, loaded it, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

All in one motion.

Bulls-eye.

The apple shattered.

The entire room fell silent.

At eighteen, I had been a professional shooter on the provincial team.

For Adrian, the later me gave up my career and never touched a gun again.

I turned, picked up an entire bottle of high-proof vodka, and walked to Aly.

Drink it.

Alys face went pale as she looked to Adrian for help.

Adrian

Adrians face darkened. He strode over and knocked the bottle from my hand.

Skye Harper, enough!

He shielded Aly behind him.

I looked at him.

A bet is a bet.

She wont drink, right?

I stepped forward and slapped Aly across the face with all my strength.

Aly screamed and fell to the floor, the corner of her mouth swelling instantly.

This slap replaces the drink. Were even.

Adrian shoved me hard.

I crashed into the long table behind me, pain shooting through my waist.

He crouched down and pulled Aly into his arms, then turned and glared at me.

Take her away. Lock her in the basement! he ordered the bodyguards.

Two bodyguards stepped forward and twisted my arms.

You can reflect in there. Without my permission, no one is allowed to give her food or water.

The basement was cold and damp.

Using the weak light from my phone, I found a metal stool in the corner.

I lifted it and smashed it hard against the high ventilation window.

Glass shattered. The wire mesh bent.

My hands were cut by glass, blood flowing freely.

I stepped on a cabinet and climbed out through the vent.

The night wind was freezing.

Without looking back, I walked into the dark.

At dawn, I returned quietly to the villa with bandages wrapped around my hands.

Adrian was not home.

I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed and began packing.

When I finished, I sat on the edge of the bed and took out my phone.

There were hundreds of unread messages, all sent by twenty-five-year-old Skye to Adrian.

Humble, pleading, despairing.

Adrian, can you come home for dinner today? I made your favorite sweet and sour ribs.

Adrian, my stomach hurts. Can you pick me up?

Adrian, Aly posted that you two are in the Maldives. Didnt you say you were on a business trip?

I deleted them one by one.

Piece by piece, I picked up the dignity she had lost.

Passing through the living room, I threw the signed divorce agreement and my wedding ring onto the coffee table.

There was also a thick diary on the table.

It was where twenty-five-year-old Skye had recorded every detail of the past seven years.

I opened to the last page and wrote one line in the wild cursive only eighteen-year-old me would use.

Then I pulled my suitcase out and took a cab straight to the airport.

At eleven that morning, Adrian pushed open the villa door.

In his hand was a box of steamed buns from the south side of the city, something I had once loved.

He had come to bestow his mercy.

Skye Harper, do you know what you did wrong?

Only silence answered him.

He frowned and went to the basement.

The lock was intact.

But no one was inside.

A strange panic rose in his chest. He rushed upstairs to the bedroom.

The room was clean, without the slightest trace of a person living there.

At once, he saw the divorce agreement and wedding ring on the coffee table.

Adrian laughed coldly and took out his phone to call me.

Sorry, the number you dialed has been deactivated.

He froze.

His gaze slowly moved to the diary on the coffee table.

He opened to the last page.

The handwriting was arrogant and bold, nothing like twenty-five-year-old Skyes restrained, delicate writing.

June 2, 2026.

I truly crossed over from eighteen.

Twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell is complete trash.

Thankfully, eighteen-year-old me doesnt love you at all.

Impossible.

This had to be Skyes trick to force him to admit his mistakes.

He flipped through the diary and found entries from when I was eighteen.

The handwriting was exactly the same.

Eighteen.

She really was from eighteen.

The diary dropped heavily to the floor.

Adrians mind seemed to be struck by a hammer.

Everything went blank.

Then the memories he had forgotten suddenly exploded from the depths of his mind.