I woke up to find that I'd somehow arrived ten years in the future. Not only did I have a husband, but he was trying to divorce me. I gazed at the man before me. Ten years had etched maturity into his face. He was no longer the naive, callow boy I remembered. Sure, he looked rich and charming. But none of that had anything to do with me. “I'm fine with getting divorced,” I said, “but we'll have to wait three months.”
