On the night my boyfriend Griffin and I were celebrating our one-year anniversary, we got into a car accident on a mountain road in Austin.

I was suddenly thrown ten years into the future.

There, I saw myself married to Griffin with a child—the future I had once dreamed of.

But my future self had given up her music, ground down by a cold marriage and drowning in postpartum depression.

In the end, I watched as she perched on the edge of a penthouse balcony.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Griffin's panicked face…

————————

1

Everyone said Griffin Prescott and I were the perfect couple.

He loved me fiercely, unapologetically.

In my chaotic life, meeting Griffin was the last thing I ever expected.

That day, I’d just finished a gig on Sixth Street. With my guitar slung over my back, I was heading to my apartment when a group of thugs cornered me in an alley.

Just as I was about to let my fists do the talking, Griffin showed up.

He was wearing a neatly pressed Polo shirt and clutching his phone. His face was flushed as he appeared at the mouth of the alley.

Even now, I can still picture the slight tremor in the hand he braced against the wall. I could even see the beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

He shouted, "I've already called the cops! You'd better scram!"

A rich kid's solution is his phone.

Mine is my fists.

That’s what my drunk of a father taught me.

Honestly, if Griffin hadn't grabbed my sleeve that night to ask for my name, our paths might never have crossed again.

"Wren Hayes," I told him.

His life was a world away from mine.

After that, I started running into Griffin everywhere.

He’d appear at the bar where I performed, the food truck downstairs, and the cheap diner I frequented.

Griffin used the clumsiest tactics to get my attention. He couldn't even work up the courage to ask for my number.

This went on for four months. Then, one stormy night, my gig was canceled because of the weather.

As I smoked by the window, I happened to spot a guy downstairs, drenched to the skin.

It looked like Griffin.

I don't know what came over me, but I went downstairs.

Sure enough, it was him.

He stood in the downpour, his hair and clothes plastered to his skin, looking utterly pathetic.

But when he saw me, his puppy-dog eyes lit up.

And just like that, I started dating Griffin.

He was an honor student at UT Austin's business school; I was a high school dropout, a singer-songwriter playing in a bar.

No one thought we’d last.

But time and again, Griffin stood firmly by my side.

He once told me he would do anything I asked, even watch the sunrise with me from a mountaintop if I wanted.

When he said that, we were standing on a mountain. He gazed at me, his eyes brighter than all the stars in the sky.

I truly believed Griffin and I would take on this god-awful world, hand in hand, forever.

On our one-year anniversary, we planned to watch the sunrise from that same mountain.

When the truck came hurtling toward us, Griffin didn't hesitate to throw his body over mine.

In an instant, my world flipped.

The crunch of metal and the shatter of glass blended into a single, deafening sound.

A crushing weight settled over me, and Griffin’s blood dripped into my eyes.

"Thank God you're okay, Wren…"

That was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

I don't know how many people in this world would sacrifice their life for love.

But Griffin did.

When I opened my eyes again, I knew instantly something was wrong with my body.

I was floating in mid-air, like a ghost.

I found myself in a minimalist penthouse apartment I didn’t recognize.

Was I… dead?

Where was Griffin? If I was dead, then he…

"That's wonderful, honey! We're really pregnant!" A vaguely familiar male voice cut through my thoughts.

The front door opened. A man carried a woman into the apartment, cradling her.

This man must be the owner of the place.

And his voice… it sounded a lot like Griffin's.

"Oh, you're being silly," the woman teased. "Anyone would think you're not ready for this."

The man looked up. As it turned out, he didn't just resemble Griffin. He was Griffin.

But not quite.

He looked far more mature, calmer, and more composed.

He said, "I'm just so happy. Here, honey, sit down. I'll get you a glass of water."

I drifted down and hovered in front of the woman. When I saw her face, I froze.

This woman was me.

But not quite…

What the hell was going on?

As I listened, it finally dawned on me: this couple was Griffin and me.

But it was us from the future. Ten years from now, to be exact.

Judging by their wedding rings, we did get married.

"Honey, you're pregnant now. Why don't you just stay home and rest? Your music doesn't make much money anyway," Griffin’s voice broke through my reverie.

I looked at the blissful expression on the future Wren's face. It was an expression I'd never worn.

She nodded.

But I was screaming, No!

I'd always been dead set against marriage, but for Griffin, I could make an exception.

But giving up my music to have a baby? No way in hell.

"Wait, why did you just agree? For a kid? You're really giving up the stage for a kid?" I screamed at my future self, but no one could hear me.

I could only watch as they cozied up on the couch.

Griffin said, "Don't worry, honey. I promise to give you the best life imaginable. After all, you're the most precious gift in my life."

This future Griffin felt like a stranger.

The Griffin I knew would blush just saying the word "love." There was no way he could say something like this so smoothly.

Can a person really change this much in ten years?

My mind was reeling with questions, but I was powerless to stop what was happening.

Wren stayed home. Her days consisted of making a healthy breakfast for Griffin, cleaning the apartment, and watching TV.

It was a dull, suffocating life I would have despised.

But she seemed to enjoy it.

Her favorite thing to do was sit on the sofa, stroking the swell of her belly.

I kept screaming at her, asking about my band, demanding to know if my dreams had come true.

But Wren couldn't give me an answer.

I couldn't leave the apartment, so I was forced to stay with her, trapped in this cage called home.

One day, Griffin brought his mother, Eleanor Prescott, over.

In the year I'd been with Griffin, I'd only met Eleanor once.

That one meeting was all it took to solidify my hatred for the arrogant, bossy woman.

The first time we met, Eleanor and I got into a massive fight.

Because of that, Griffin never brought up me meeting her again.

The moment Eleanor stepped inside, she started criticizing the decor. It seemed that aside from her graying hair, she hadn't changed a bit in ten years.

"I heard you're pregnant. Griffin asked me to move in starting today to look after you and make sure everything is done right," Eleanor announced, crossing her arms with a high-and-mighty look.

I hated her insufferable, holier-than-thou attitude. I knew she couldn't feel it, but I still swung at her face twice.

What a joke! Did she think I'd agree to that?

"Thank you so much, Eleanor."

I whipped my head around to see future Wren offering a meek smile.

A smile like that? On my face?

Impossible. My smile was supposed to be wild and free, not... this.

"Well, since you're pregnant, I have nothing more to say about you marrying Griffin. After you have the baby and get your figure back, you two can pick a date for the wedding," Eleanor said, plopping down on the sofa.

Griffin said nothing. He just held Wren's hand with a grateful expression. "That's what Wren and I were thinking, too!"

They looked so happy. The three of them sat there, speculating whether the baby would be a boy or a girl.

A perfect little family.

But this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Griffin would never act like this.

This was Griffin, for crying out loud.

Back when Eleanor had tried to force him to break up with me, he had held my hand and declared, "I will never let Wren down."

If anyone even glanced at me with disdain, Griffin, who never threw a punch, wouldn't hesitate to deck the guy. Then, he'd tell me with red-rimmed eyes that I was the best person in the world.

That was the Griffin I knew. The future Griffin could definitely sense his mother's contempt for me.

So how could he just sit there while his mother disrespected me?

"By the way, I've been here for a while and haven't had a bite to eat. Wren, why don't you go make dinner?" Eleanor piped up.

Dinner?

I couldn't cook.

When I first started dating Griffin, my stomach was a mess.

Years of irregular meals and heavy drinking had made it as fragile as glass.

Back then, Griffin would come to my rental after class and make me soup, nagging me to take care of myself.

I'd lean against the window, watching the sunlight on his handsome face.

"Griffin, I can't cook. I don't know the first thing about taking care of people. Do you mind being with someone like me?" I had asked.

Griffin had replied, "Not at all. You just have to be yourself, Wren. As dazzling and wild as the morning sun."

As he spoke, he turned to me, his smile as gentle as a spring breeze.

There was no way he could have turned into this man who, during dinner, complained that the food she made had gluten in it.

"Mom is very particular about ingredients, Wren. Next time, follow the nutritionist's recipes," he said.

"Okay, got it," Wren replied.

What on earth had happened? Why had everything I knew become so unrecognizable in ten years?

We had both changed so much.

Why?