Chapter 1

The first thing I noticed was the scent of coffee.

It was different.

Liam always made coffee that smelled rich and dark, almost like burnt chocolate. This smelled lighter, cleaner.

I opened my eyes, letting the morning light filter in. The bedroom was the same, our cream-colored walls, the heavy oak dresser, the pile of books on my nightstand.

But the man standing by the window, holding a coffee mug, was not my husband.

He was a stranger.

He had the same dark hair as Liam, the same tall frame, but his face was wrong. The lines around his eyes were softer, his chin less defined.

He turned and smiled at me. It was a kind smile, but it wasn't Liam's.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he said. His voice was smooth, a little deeper than Liam's.

I sat up straight, pulling the covers up to my chin. My heart started to beat fast, a frantic drum against my ribs.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Where's Liam?"

The man' s smile faded, replaced by a look of gentle concern. He set his mug down and walked toward the bed.

"Ava, honey, what are you talking about? It's me."

He reached a hand out to touch my face, and I flinched away.

"Don't touch me. I'm serious, where is my husband? Where is Liam?"

Panic was rising in my throat, hot and sharp. This had to be a dream, a horrible, vivid nightmare.

"Honey, I'm Liam," he said, his voice soft, trying to soothe me. "You must have had a bad dream."

"You are not Liam," I said, my voice shaking.

I scrambled out of bed, keeping my distance from him. I needed to call someone. I needed to call my parents. They would know what was going on.

I found my phone on the dresser and quickly dialed my mom's number. The stranger just watched me, a sad, patient look on his face.

"Mom?" I said, the moment she picked up. "Mom, something's wrong. There's a man in my house. He says he's Liam, but he's not."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Ava? Honey, what's going on? Is Liam with you?" my mother's voice was filled with worry.

"Yes, but it's not him! It's some stranger."

"Let me talk to him," she said, her tone suddenly firm.

I held the phone out to the man, my hand trembling. He took it from me gently.

"Hi, Mary," he said into the phone. "Yeah, she's… she's having another one of her episodes. A little confused this morning."

He listened for a moment, nodding. "Yeah, I know. I'll be patient. Okay. Love you too. Bye."

He handed the phone back to me.

"Your mom says to tell you she loves you, and for you to try and relax."

"An episode?" I whispered. "What is she talking about?"

My whole world felt like it was tilting on its side. My own mother was in on this. She was taking his side.

"You need to get out of my house," I said, trying to make my voice strong.

"This is my house too, Ava," he said calmly. "We've lived here for five years."

"No," I shook my head, backing away toward the closet. "No, we haven't."

I needed proof. Something to show him he was wrong, that I wasn't crazy. I pulled open the top drawer of our dresser, where we kept all our important papers. I rummaged through them, my hands shaking so badly I could barely read the documents.

I found it. Our marriage certificate.

I pulled it out, a wave of relief washing over me. This would prove it.

But when I looked at the paper, the name printed next to mine wasn't Liam.

It was Ethan. Ethan Miller.

And the photograph clipped to the document was of the man standing in my bedroom.

My breath hitched. My legs felt weak. I leaned against the dresser for support, the certificate slipping from my fingers and fluttering to the floor.

This couldn't be real. It was impossible. Every memory I had, every feeling in my heart, screamed that my husband was Liam. A different man. The love of my life.

I loved him. I knew him. I would know him anywhere.

The man-Ethan-bent down and picked up the paper. He didn't say anything, just held it out for me to take.

I refused to look at it again.

"That's a fake," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"It's not," he said softly.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block everything out. The wrong coffee scent, the wrong face, the wrong name on a piece of paper. I focused on one single, undeniable truth.

My husband is Liam.

I will find him.

I didn't know then that this moment was just the beginning. I didn't know I would spend the next ten years of my life trapped in this lie, fighting a battle for a memory that everyone else told me was a ghost. I just knew that I had to hold on, because if I let go of Liam, I would lose myself completely.