Nine Men Played My Husband, I Chose the Tenth

Chapter 1

4,079 words

After three years of my intermittent amnesia, I happened to overhear my husband, Liam Stone, chatting with his friends.

"Liam, Elara blanks out every few months. You make us take shifts pretending to be you. What if one of us catches real feelings?"

"Why would I worry?" Liam laughed, a wild, unbridled sound. "Elara 's libido is practically nonexistent. As long as you keep your hands to yourself, she won't be starting anything."

"But don't get any ideas about making out with her. When I'm finished having my fun, I'm returning to my marriage."

For three years, every time I lost my memory, the men who held my hand, hugged me, and even shared a bed with me, were never the real Liam.

Three years. Nine blackouts. Nine stand-ins.

But what they didn't know was my memory had returned two years ago.

My ninth "husband" arrived home to find me staring blankly at the sofa.

A smooth voice cut through my thoughts. "Elara, I'm home."

I turned my head to look at the man at the door.

"Who are you?" I frowned, feigning confusion. "Are you my husband? I thought my husband's name was Liam Stone."

The man froze for a second, then quickly retorted. "No! Uh... I'm a friend of your husband's! Don't worry, I'll call him right now and tell him to get over here."

With that, he pulled out his phone and hurried to the balcony.

"Liam, Elara's lost her memory again! Whose turn is it this time? Get over here and relieve me!"

I stayed by the window, listening as Liam's friend made excuses into the phone.

"Liam, Elara is too clingy, we have to watch her 24/7, we can't handle it!"

"Yeah, Elara's great and all, but she's way too controlling. What guy doesn't like to stray once in a while?"

"How about you just go back yourself, Liam?"

"No way." Liam's lazy voice came through the speaker. "I'm still having fun. Who's gonna cover for me back home? Come on, we're brothers. You can't just leave me hanging like this?"

Amidst their excuses, a cool, clear voice spoke up. "I'll do it."

I recognized it instantly. It was Aidan Walker, Liam's best friend.

Aidan was known as the notoriously unapproachable heartthrob in our circle. Rumor had it, he'd been single for all thirty years of his life.

When Liam first suggested finding someone to impersonate my husband, Aidan was the first to object.

But now, he was interested in playing this game, too?

Half an hour later, the front door clicked open.

Aidan walked in, backlit by the evening sun.

"Elara, I'm home." His cool voice had a hint of magnetism.

I stood up, watching the tall, handsome man before me.

"Are you my husband, Liam Stone?"

Aidan cleared his throat into his fist. "Sorry. Work ran late. I should have called."

Just as he finished speaking, his phone rang.

Aidan made an apologetic gesture, then took the call on the balcony.

Through the earpiece, I heard Liam's nonchalant voice. "Oh, right. Aidan. Forgot to mention. You can hold her hand or hug her. But don't sleep with her. No matter what, she's still my wife."

"Got it," Aidan's voice was low.

For three years, no matter how those men pretended to be Liam, they only ever held my hand or hugged me. They never crossed the line.

For three years, there were no photos of us in the house, no identification documents of any man.

They naturally assumed I wouldn't find out.

And I played dumb, pretending to know nothing.

But this time, I wanted to play a different game.

I walked over and actively wrapped my arms around Aidan's waist.

"Even with no memory, something about you feels...familiar. You must be my husband."

I squeezed Aidan's waist tightly, and didn't forget to run my hand over his firm abs.

Aidan's body stiffened for a second. He quickly pushed me away.

"What's wrong?" I asked innocently. "I lost my memory. Don't you want me anymore?"

"...I do." Aidan's eyes flickered away slightly, his voice hoarse.

My fingers went to the buttons of his shirt.

"It's so cold today. We'd be warmer in bed?"

His throat worked. "Okay."

That night, we shared the bed.

An unspoken agreement to lie there, perfectly still.