When Selena Sloane takes her assistant, Preston Jones, to the hospital in order to get his lower back checked out, her 18-year-old self is in the middle of making out with me while having me pinned against the wall.

"Darling, how is it that you smell so good and your kisses are still this amazing despite being 30 years old? Oh, I love you so much, darling!

"By the way, where did my 30-year-old self go? Why isn't she here to pick you up after work?"

I push Young Selena off me sadly. That's when I happen to meet the 30-year-old Selena's icy gaze.

"You already have a mistress of your own, and yet you still can't bear to get a divorce from me, hmm? Zack Holt, you really are pathetic."

As I watch the older Selena supporting Preston and walking away, the younger Selena starts kicking up a fuss in my arms once again.

"That idiot! How dare she speak to my darling so arrogantly? Why, I might as well kill myself right now so that she'll disappear from this world as well!"

Zack's POV

18-year-old Selena Sloane was exactly as I remembered her. She was proud, imperious, and nearly impossible to appease once she threw a tantrum.

It wasn't until I pulled out the romance novels I kept stashed in my drawer that she finally settled down. I locked her in the office and headed downstairs to buy some dinner.

The moment I reached the fast food restaurant, a chilling voice sounded behind me.

"28 minutes."

I froze and turned to face the cold expression of 30-year-old Selena.

"Why are you still here? Didn't you leave with Preston?"

Selena ignored my question, staring at me coldly. "Stop playing dumb. You and that little lady stayed alone in the office for a full 28 minutes."

Her last few words came out through gritted teeth.

"What's wrong? Found yourself a younger one, but can't keep up stamina-wise? When you were Preston's age, you could go at least 40 minutes."

God, you'd need a twisted, vicious mind to even understand what she was implying.

I stared at her, speechless, too embarrassed to tell her that girl was actually her 18-year-old self. I simply turned to order food.

"One cajun chicken sandwich, no pickles. Side salad, clam chowder, and the BBQ ribs."

She sneered again from behind. "Everything you ordered is what I like, Zack. Are you not even trying to cater to your little lover's tastes? Or is she just some toy for when you're bored, not the confirmed replacement?"

As I listened to her barbed mockery, irritation surged through me. "Selena, not everyone is like you. Not everyone lines up the next one before the marriage is even over."

She choked abruptly, instinctively opening her mouth. "I already told you I didn't—"

"You brought him to the hospital and made an appointment with me specifically. Don't tell me it wasn't deliberate." I cut her off coldly, grabbing the packed meal boxes.

"Congratulations. You've managed to disgust me again. I agree to the divorce. I'll see you Monday at the courthouse. Don't be late."

Without waiting for her reaction, I walked straight past her and left the restaurant. The moment I pushed through the door, the icy winter evening wind hit my tear-stained face like a knife.

Just as I fumbled awkwardly to find some tissue to wipe my face, a cup of hot chocolate was placed in my hands. It was the kind I loved when I was a teenager.

"You little dummy, still so scatterbrained. Look at you crying from the cold, and you didn't even think to grab a jacket."

18-year-old Selena ruffled my hair and draped a jacket over my shoulders. That familiar scent of pine and the warmth momentarily left me dazed.

…

"So what you're saying is, the 30-year-old me got her wish and married you but didn't cherish it. And not only did I get involved with some male secretary who supposedly saved me, but I kept pushing you for a divorce?"

At home, the younger Selena still had barbecue sauce at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes were filled with horror.

"Why would I do something so stupid? Did I have a complete personality change or something?"

"Or maybe I got hit by a car and lost my memory? Maybe my whole brain got damaged?" 18-year-old Selena pressed on.

I kept my head down, stirring the coffee in front of me absently. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

"No. Nothing like that happened. You're perfectly healthy. We got married right after graduation. At first, things were wonderful. We were inseparable, madly in love just like we'd been for years. But everything changed completely after Preston showed up."

Preston Jones joined Selena's company in its fifth year. That same year, our marriage hit the seven-year itch.

I was busy becoming the youngest attending physician at the hospital, and Selena's business was experiencing explosive growth. Her social obligations multiplied. There were endless meetings and dinner parties.

After I turned down several invitations to accompany her to those events, Selena lost her temper with me for the first time.

"Everyone else has their partner with them, but I'm married and still going everywhere alone! My business partners mock me. They want to know if it's because I'm too much of a career woman to be likable or if I'm just not making enough money to keep my husband interested in supporting my work!"

Her accusation blindsided me. I felt hurt and confused.

After all, I had always treated her like she was precious. She had never raised her voice at me before, let alone accused me so directly.

But no matter how much I loved her, I couldn't abandon medicine after studying for over a decade or throw away everything I had worked so hard to build.

Neither of us was willing to apologize first, so things turned icy between us. She moved out of our home and into a luxury riverside penthouse closer to her office. She came home maybe four or five times that entire year.

Once, I missed her so desperately that I showed up at her place on her birthday without calling ahead. But when I knocked on the door, Preston was the one who answered.

"Ms. Sloane had too much to drink tonight. She's not really in a condition to see visitors."

He didn't seem to recognize me. He just tugged at his tie, revealing faint red marks on his neck.

"Would you like to leave a message? I can pass it along when she wakes up."

I blinked back the tears threatening to fall and handed him the gift bag I was holding. I spoke slowly, enunciating each word.

"I'm Zack Holt. Tell her to call me the moment she wakes up. I need to talk to her."

Preston made a casual sound of acknowledgment, said a polite goodbye, and closed the door. But for the next two weeks, I never heard a word from Selena.

Hearing this, 18-year-old Selena couldn't hold back anymore. She hurled a glass tumbler across the room, shattering it.

"That's impossible! I would never mess around with another man! This can't be real! There has to be some kind of misunderstanding!"

I wiped the tears from my face and shook my head silently. No one wanted this to be a misunderstanding more than I did.

But not long after that incident, Preston got injured. It was some unexplained lower back injury.

Selena fussed over him constantly, both in public and in private. She even brought him to the hospital and made an appointment specifically with me for treatment.

No matter how much I tried to lie to myself, I couldn't keep denying it.

If I was struggling to accept this, the younger Selena was taking it even harder. She gulped down drink after drink, then curled up on the couch like a wounded kitten, crying softly with tears streaming down her face.

"How could I, Zacky? How could I ever hurt you like that?"

I sighed and leaned down to drape a blanket over her. Before I could straighten up, the front door opened behind me.

I turned around and locked eyes with 30-year-old Selena.

"Zack, you really know how to surprise me."

Seeing me in such an intimate position with 18-year-old Selena, her face twisted with rage.

"Fooling around in the office wasn't enough for you. You had to bring her home too. Now you're so inseparable that you can't wait to finalize the divorce."

As her voice started to rise, I frowned. "Keep it down. Don't wake her."

Given how easily the younger Selena lost her temper, I couldn't imagine what kind of scene she'd cause if she woke up and found her 30-year-old self standing right there. I was just trying to avoid more trouble, but my words clearly meant something entirely different to Selena.

She let out a hollow laugh, tears glistening in her eyes. "Zack, do I need to remind you that this is our home? You're actually asking me to keep quiet in my own house for some shameless homewrecker? What am I to you?"

The younger Selena was starting to stir on the couch. Without thinking, I rushed forward and grabbed the older Selena's hand.

"Not here. Come on, I'll take you to the coffee shop downstairs."

Worried she'd pull away, I deliberately held her hand tightly. But to my surprise, she didn't resist. Instead, her fingers curled around mine instinctively.

Even after we got out of the elevator, Selena still hadn't let go. I felt awkward and tried tentatively to pull my hand back, but she only gripped tighter.

"What? You'll let some tramp touch you, but not me? Zack, you can cheat on me without a second thought, but suddenly you're staying faithful for her?"

I couldn't stand the mockery in her voice. I yanked my hand free with force. "Don't project your filth onto me, especially when you're the one who isn't clean!"

The force of it made Selena stumble back a step. She stared at me with wounded eyes. Before she could say anything else, her phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID, her expression shifted slightly. She turned and walked away to answer it. I knew it was Preston.

I hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but the apartment complex entrance was so quiet late at night that even from a distance, I could hear her clearly.

"What's wrong? Another fracture? Don't move. Stay on the couch. I'm coming to get you right now!"

Selena hung up and started to leave. She'd already walked about 15 feet away when she suddenly spun around and grabbed me forcefully.

"You're coming with me!"

Caught off guard, I was dragged along for several steps. I tried to break free but couldn't.

"Selena, have you lost your mind? Why should I go?"

"Because you're the best surgeon at St. Catherine's Hospital and the youngest attending ever at a major teaching hospital!"

Without waiting for an answer, Selena pulled me into her Maybach and fastened my seatbelt herself. "After all, it's a matter of life and death. You can't go against the Hippocratic Oath, can you?"

The moment the car started moving, I wanted to die. I'd rather get into an accident on the way than perform surgery on my wife's lover with my own hands.

The Maybach didn't head toward Selena's riverside penthouse. Instead, we drove to a luxury apartment building in the neighboring complex. After a brief moment of surprise, I understood.

Selena's company was in the final stages of going public. At such a critical juncture, she obviously couldn't let her personal life become leverage against her, so her boy toy had to live separately for now.

Sure enough, from the moment we arrived and parked to the moment we took the elevator to the exact unit number, Selena moved with practiced ease. It was as if she'd been here countless times before.

At the door, she pulled out a key, unlocked it, and rushed inside.

A moment later, a somewhat aggrieved voice drifted out. "Lena, you're finally here. I was scared to death just now…"

Lena?

I used to think that intimate nickname belonged only to me.