Woke Up to Divorce Papers

This was unreal.

I remembered graduating Columbia like it was yesterday. Now suddenly—five years gone, married, and already getting dumped?

If this wasn't some cruel prank, then I was stuck in the worst nightmare ever.

"Wait, Aiden—"

I started to explain, but his phone buzzed. He checked the screen, frown deepening.

"Oliver's nanny," he muttered, then answered. "Martha? What? He's refusing to eat again?...Alright, bring him up."

He hung up, rubbing his temples. "Our son hasn't been eating right since you moved out."

Our son?

Before I could even process, the door opened. A middle-aged woman walked in with a little blond boy, maybe four or five, dressed in a crisp school uniform, eyes down.

"Oliver wouldn't eat downstairs," Martha said. "Insisted on seeing his dad."

The kid's face lit up the second he spotted Aiden. Then he noticed me—instantly ducked behind Martha, hiding.

My chest squeezed. This gorgeous little boy—my son? But the way he looked at me, I was basically a stranger.

"Hey," I tried, voice all shaky. "You hungry? Wanna eat with Mommy?"

Oliver blinked up, blue eyes confused. "Why are you being weird? You never eat with me."

Ouch. That stung.

Aiden scoffed. "Please. Last month you promised you'd hit Oliver's piano recital. Instead? You were posting Hamptons pics with your so-called artist buddy."

Hamptons? Artist? Instagram?

His phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen, jaw tightening.

"Perfect timing," he muttered, hitting speaker. "Go ahead."

"Mr. Harrison, this is the manager at Luminé," a man said. "Your wife's tab from last month is still unpaid. The total's $23,000. Also..."

"Also what?"

"We need to confirm if she wants us to return the coat she left in the VIP lounge."

My face went hot. What coat? VIP lounge?

Aiden ended the call, then shoved his phone in my face, photos pulled up. "Want me to narrate the footage too?

"You passed out in the lobby at 3 a.m., drunk. Staff had to dump you on a couch. Meanwhile, Oliver was at home with a fever, crying for his mom."

"I didn't..." My voice cracked as Oliver's eyes shimmered with hurt. "Sweetheart, I swear, I don't remember..."

"Enough." Aiden yanked an envelope from his drawer and dropped it in front of me. "Divorce agreement. Your lawyer's signed off. I get full custody. You get visitation—like you'll actually bother."

He dropped the envelope on the table and scooped Oliver into his arms.

"Come on, buddy. Burgers."

"Is Mommy coming?" Oliver's voice soft.

"Mommy's busy," Aiden said, not even glancing at me, dripping sarcasm. "Always busy. Entertaining clients. Business dinners."

They headed for the door. I just stood there, frozen, watching the man and kid who were supposed to be mine—realizing I didn't even know their favorite food.

"Wait!" My voice cracked. "I'm not lying. I lost my memory. The last thing I remember is graduation night, 2017. Please... just believe me."

Aiden stopped at the door, eyes flicking back, face unreadable. "You know what's funny, Sophia? If you'd said that five years ago, I would've believed you."

The door shut.

Silence.

The divorce papers stared back at me from the table. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the couch, hands shaking as I picked them up. The words blurred, cutting like knives. I let them slip from my fingers and buried my face in my palms, shoulders trembling.

What the hell had I missed?