I Left My Husband To Save My Father

Three months ago, Noah left New York for the final leg of his roadshow before the IPO. That was when the woman first appeared in the mirror in my dressing room. Half her hair was scorched and frizzled, the fingers on her right hand were twisted out of shape, and her skin was covered in horrible burn scars. She told me she was Evelyn Harper from the future, but every time she opened her mouth, all that came out were hoarse, broken sobs.

I tried covering the mirror with a cloth, switching hotels, even hiding at Dad's house overnight. But she followed me like a shadow, and no one else could see her at all.

Tonight, as I stood outside the ballroom holding white roses, she was finally able to get a full sentence out.

"Evelyn, don't take the flowers in. This party was never for you."

"Why?"

She stared hard at the bright light spilling through the gap in the door, her voice rasping as though smoke had scorched it. "I can't remember a lot of the details, but don't go in, please. I won't hurt you. I want you to live. I want you to avoid what happened to me! Your husband doesn't love you the way you think he does. He's not a good man!"

I held the bouquet tighter. One more step and I'd see my husband. I hadn't held him in three months. I couldn't just turn around and leave because of some mysterious phantom.

Besides, nothing Noah had ever said or done had made me doubt that my place tonight was at his side.

Eight years ago, I met him at a diner in Manhattan. He went to class during the day and worked two jobs at night to get by. When he served coffee, his cuffs were always stained with flour. I kept trying to get a date with him until he finally said yes. It was snowing hard that day. He wrapped the only scarf he had around my neck, while the tip of his own nose turned red from the cold.

Later, he kept running into dead ends while raising money and couldn't even pay the office rent. I used the fund my mother left me to support him, and Dad put up his own house as collateral to help him secure a line of credit. Noah always hated when people brought up that he'd gotten his start thanks to the Harper family, but on countless winter nights when he worked late, he'd call and quietly ask if I'd eaten.

During the roadshow, he messaged me every day. Just yesterday, on a video call, he'd told me, "When I get back to New York, the first person I want to hold is you."

The moment I pushed open the ballroom doors, all the lights went dark.

A spotlight fell on the center of the stage. Noah was wearing the charcoal suit I'd picked out for him myself, his arm around the shoulders of a woman in a white dress.

"Without her, I wouldn't be who I am today," he said solemnly to the investors and cameras below. "Claire is the woman I treasure most in my life."

The woman tilted her head up and kissed him softly on the lips.

Her gaze slid past Noah's shoulder and settled on me, and she gave me a faint smile.

I recognized her. Claire Morris, the daughter of Noah's foster family. He'd mentioned her before. She'd had a heart condition since childhood and needed care. I'd even sent her money on his behalf. But I had no idea when Noah had brought her to New York, and I never imagined I'd find her pressed so close to him, in the place that should have been mine.

Applause broke out in the audience.

I handed the bouquet to a server by the door and walked straight toward the stage.

"Claire." I stopped in front of her. "You know Noah is married, right?"

The applause slowly died down.

She pressed close to Noah's arm, her eyes red, her expression pleading. "Evelyn, I just got too emotional. My heart's been bad since I was little. Please don't scare me like this."

"I'm asking about that kiss."

"That's just how we've always been, ever since we were kids—"

"You've been kissing since you were kids?"

Claire's expression changed at once. Then she turned to Noah and quietly tugged at his sleeve, as if she knew he would step in.

My future self rushed between us, waving her translucent hands frantically.

"Don't hit her! Evelyn, don't—"

But my hand had already come down.

The sharp crack of the slap made my ears ring. Claire fell to the floor, clutching her cheek. Several people raised their phones at once. Before I could even lower my hand, Noah was already crouching to help her up.

"Apologize to her," he said in a low voice.

For a second, I thought I was hearing things.

"Noah, I'm your wife."

He looked up at me, and the chill in his eyes was so unfamiliar it made my heart lurch. "You hit her in front of all these people. What did you expect me to say?"

"She kissed you first. You just told everyone she's the most important person to you. Did you ever think about where that leaves me?"

"Her family took me in when I had nowhere else to go." He helped Claire to her feet and held her trembling hand tight. "Don't you ever touch her again."

As I stared at their joined hands, memories came flooding back before I could stop them. Last year, when his stomach problems flared up and he was hospitalized, I stayed by his side all night. I didn't even have time to answer Dad's video calls. When he woke up, the first thing he did was grab my hand, grateful to find me there.

"If you insist I apologize for hitting her, I will." My voice came out calm. "But that kiss just now? You really have nothing to say about it?"

"This is not the night for one of your tantrums."

He called security right away to escort me out, then went with Claire into the lounge. Not once did he look back at me.

As I was led off the stage, people were still filming. In the footage, I was probably just the rich wife throwing a fit at her husband's IPO celebration, while Claire, sheltered under his wing, looked pale, wronged, and pitiful.

At the bottom of the backstage steps, my future self blocked my way.

Her scarred lips trembled.

"This is far from over."

I turned to look at the closed door of the lounge. A sudden chill went through me, and I didn't dare ask what would happen next.