Woke Up to Divorce Papers

I spent the whole day trying to stitch my memory back together—like a puzzle missing half the pieces.

One thing was clear: I was still Sophia. Aiden Harrison was still Aiden Harrison. We were married—the photo over the fireplace proved it. We had Oliver.

But the divorce papers on the coffee table screamed otherwise. Something had gone seriously wrong.

The question that wouldn't leave me alone: Did I actually cheat?

No way. Why would I throw away Aiden—still stupidly handsome, killing it at his firm, a dad who clearly adored Oliver—for anyone else?

And who the hell was this so-called artist buddy?

I paced the living room, frustrated at the gaping hole in my memory. This fancy Upper East Side apartment felt more like a museum of someone else's life—familiar, but off.

"Mommy?"

Oliver stood in the doorway, clutching his teddy.

"Daddy said your hand needs disinfecting." He walked in carefully, holding out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. "He told me to bring this to you."

I reached for it. "My hand hurts a little. Can you help me?"

He paused, then nodded, setting the bottle on the coffee table.

I scooped him up with my good hand and pulled him onto my lap. My nose, Aiden's blue eyes, his blond hair—he really was mine.

I kissed his cheek. He smelled like baby shampoo, and my heart just melted.

His face flushed. He stiffened, then suddenly hugged my neck.

"Mommy," he whispered, "you're being really nice today."

The words crushed me. What kind of mom had I been?

I was still holding him when footsteps echoed down the hall.

Aiden showed up in the doorway, fresh from the shower in a charcoal lounge set. Damp hair in his eyes, water sliding down his neck—yeah, I swallowed hard. He looked unfairly good.

Each step he took sent my heart racing, but then his voice iced everything over.

"Sophia, kinda late to start playing mom now, isn't it?"

"Daddy!" Oliver shot off my lap and into his arms.

Aiden scooped him up with ease, but his cold eyes stayed on me.

"I'm not pretending. I just—"

One look from him shut me up. Didn't matter what I said.

"Forget it." I stood. "I'll crash in the guest room."

As I walked away, Oliver peeked back at me from Aiden's shoulder. The way he clung to his dad cut deep.

So what if I had a husband and a kid? My husband wanted out, and my son only wanted him.

I stopped by the window, staring at the Manhattan skyline. The city still glittered like nothing had changed.

Except me.