my husband?

They stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the door handle as it twisted, each turn amplifying the tension that gripped them.

Neither Lynette nor Daniella knew what to do. Their instincts screamed at them to run, yet their legs refused to move.

Then—the door swung open.

They braced themselves for the unknown, but instead of danger, they were met with something entirely unexpected.

A man stood before them. Not just any man—one they recognized.

His transparent glasses sat slightly askew, his short black hair an unkempt mess. On his feet were mismatched flip-flops, and his loose white long-sleeve shirt, wrinkled and untucked, fluttered slightly as he moved. He looked disoriented, as if he had been lost in thought moments before.

Lynette's mind raced, piecing together the familiar details. Then, realization struck.

"Isn't that… Silver....?" Her voice faltered, unable to complete the thought as the man suddenly strode toward her.

Before she could react, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Warmth enveloped her, yet something felt off. The moment carried an unsettling intensity, and then—she felt it. Wet droplets sinking into the fabric of her clothes.

"Lyn…" he whimpered, his voice breaking under the weight of his sobs.

Confusion flickered in her mind as she glanced at Daniella, who looked just as bewildered. This was far from what either of them had anticipated.

Lynette hesitated, staring down at his arms wrapped around her. Should she return the embrace? Should she push him away? Her limbs refused to decide.

Then—a voice, sharp yet affectionate, cut through the thick air. 

"My princess!"

She turned instinctively, and what she saw stole the breath from her lungs.

Her mother stood before her, the very woman she had buried with her own hands.

And beside her—the boy she had seen earlier.

Daniella barely whispered, her voice trembling, "I told you this was the afterlife."

Lynette felt her throat tighten, her chest constricting like a vice. She wanted to speak, wanted to cry, wanted to understand—but no words formed.

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. With what little strength remained, she managed to mutter the word that had been trapped inside her—

"Mum…"

Her mother broke into tears, reaching out for her, but Lynette was still caught in the man's embrace.

"Mother, please wait," the man murmured, tightening his hold just as Lynette struggled to free herself.

After a moment, he finally let go—but they remained just inches apart. His hands lingered on her arms, sorrow etched across his face. Their gazes locked, and though neither spoke, their eyes conveyed different emotions. Hers was filled with confusion, while his carried something deeper—longing.

Then, with deliberate tenderness, he slid one hand from her arm to the back of her head.

"I'm glad you're safe," he whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against her forehead.

His voice was deep and soothing, carrying a familiarity that made her feel strangely comforted.

Before she could process the moment, her mother's impatient voice broke through. "Alright, move! Move!" she huffed, stepping between them and glaring sharply at him.

Then, turning to Lynette, her frustration melted into fresh tears. "My princess," she breathed before pulling her into a tight embrace.

She cupped her daughter's face between her hands, eyes searching hers. "Where have you been? It's been fifteen days." Her voice trembled as she continued, "I thought… I thought something terrible had happened to you."

She turned to Daniella, her expression shifting to one of suspicion. Crossing her arms, she narrowed her eyes. "You… where did you take my daughter?" Her tone sharpened with anger.

"Ever since she met you, I've had a bad feeling. Azaela warned me about you, and she was right. A mother's intuition is never wrong! My daughter has never disappeared like this—never!"

Daniella stiffened, her frustration bubbling over. "I don't know what you're talking about," she shot back, clearly offended by the accusation.

Lynette barely heard them. Her mind raced, desperately trying to piece things together.

She and Daniella shared the same names. These faces—while familiar—weren't exactly the same people she knew. 

Her grandmother once spoke of how people had different lives in the dimension beyond the door.

They couldn't just reveal that they had come from another world. They couldn't explain that they had no way back. 

This man—he must have been Lynette's lover or a close friend. 

And Lynette—the Lynette of this world—was wealthy. 

She and Daniella had been missing for fifteen days. That meant… 

They had no choice.

For now, they would have to become them.

And the only way to do that was—memory loss.

"Mother!" Lynette rushed to her, gripping her arm with urgency.

"She's a good friend," Lynette reassured her.

Her mother's brows furrowed, concern flashing across her features. "My darling, I'm starting to piece things together now, and what she's showing seems like hypocrisy."

"Mother, she's not. Trust me," Lynette pleaded. "We've been through so much since we lost our memories." She glanced at Daniella for reassurance.

But Daniella wasn't looking at her. Instead, her gaze was locked on someone else.

Following her eyes, Lynette realized who it was—the man who had hugged her. She still didn't know his name.

"Memory… loss?" Her mother's voice was uncertain as she turned back to Lynette.

Lynette nodded. "We can't remember anything apart from our names. I'm just relieved I still remember you, Mother." She forced a smile through the tears brimming in her eyes.

The man took a hesitant step forward. "Lyn… does that mean you don't remember me either?" His voice was thick with emotion.

Lynette stared at him, then slowly lowered her gaze. She shook her head.

Her mother let out a sharp cry. "My goodness, my princess has suffered! It's my fault!" She clutched her chest, her voice raw.

"Older sister, you don't remember me either? Dylan?" the young boy beside her asked softly.

Again, Lynette shook her head.

Her mother took a steadying breath, then turned to Dylan. "Have you called the others? I need to prepare. My daughter is back home, and a party must be held."

But before Lynette could react, the man stepped forward, firmly grasping her hand. "Mother, I need to help her regain her memories. We've been together for five years."

Her mother's expression hardened. "Let go of her hand. I need time with my daughter—I haven't seen her for fifteen days! Just look at the state she's in. She's suffered enough."

Lynette hadn't been here long, but she could already tell—her mother and this man were far from being on good terms.

He swallowed, then spoke carefully. "Mother."

She scoffed. "Mother? Mother? I'm not your mother!" she snapped.

But instead of reacting with anger, he remained calm. "I know she is your daughter," he said, "but she is also my wife."

Lynette stiffened.

The words echoed in her mind, loud and impossible to process.

She turned to him, searching his face. "My husband?" she whispered.

Her thoughts raced wildly. How could her father's daughter's fiancé—Silver—be her husband in this world? Was it simply because she admired him the moment she met him?

Or was this dimension rewriting her fate entirely?