The Legal Mistress

I slowly opened my eyes to the sound of a machine beeping beside me.

For a few moments, I simply stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above me, trying to understand where I was. My head throbbed painfully, and my entire body felt heavy. Even breathing seemed to require more effort than usual.

The air smelled strongly of antiseptic.

I turned my head slightly and found myself surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

An older woman was sitting beside my bed. The moment she noticed that I was awake, she immediately stood and reached for my hand.

“Oh, thank God. You’re awake.”

I stared at her hand before looking at her face.

I didn’t know her.

She smiled through her tears and squeezed my fingers.

“Kristine?”

My brows knitted together.

“Who are you?”

Her smile disappeared.

“What?”

“I asked who you are.”

The woman looked at the older man standing a few feet away. He had been watching me with the same worried expression.

“Kristine, sweetheart,” he said gently, approaching the bed. “It’s us.”

I looked between them.

“Who?”

The man’s face fell.

“Your father and mother.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“My parents?”

The woman nodded quickly, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

“Yes, honey. It’s Mama.”

Something inside me tightened.

There was something terribly wrong.

I knew my parents. I knew their faces, their voices, the sound of my mother’s laughter, and the way my father would lecture me whenever he was worried. I knew my childhood home and the memories I had shared with them.

These people weren’t my parents.

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” I said.

The woman shook her head.

“No, honey. It’s us.”

“My name isn’t Kristine.”

Silence filled the room.

The older man glanced toward the door.

“Maybe we should call the doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor.” I tried to sit up, but the room suddenly spun. I grabbed the edge of the mattress until the dizziness passed. “I need my phone.”

“You should rest first,” the woman said.

“My phone.”

“Why?”

“I need to call my husband.”

Both of them froze.

“My husband,” I repeated. “I need to call Adrian.”

The older man’s expression changed.

“Adrian?”

“Yes. Adrian Kyle C. Lopez.”

I couldn’t understand why they were looking at me like that.

Who else would I call?

Adrian was my husband.

He was the person I needed most.

The man exchanged another worried glance with the woman before stepping toward the door.

“Let’s call the doctor.”

“No!” I protested. “I don’t need another doctor. I need my husband.”

But they were already leaving.

I sank back against the pillow, frustrated and frightened.

Something wasn’t right.

I didn’t remember the accident that brought me here, but I knew who I was. I knew my life. I knew the people who mattered to me.

At least, I thought I did.

The doctor came in a few minutes later and examined me carefully. He asked me several questions, and I answered them as best I could.

My name.

Where I lived.

Who my parents were.

What I remembered.

When I told him that I was Maicah, he looked at me with concern.

“My name is Maicah,” I insisted. “Not Kristine.”

He glanced at the people who claimed to be my parents.

“Do you remember the accident?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what happened before it?”

I shook my head.

“But I remember my husband.”

The doctor studied me.

“Who is your husband?”

“Adrian.”

I told him Adrian’s full name and explained that we’d been married for five years.

“We don’t have a child yet, but we’re happy,” I said. “He owns a company. We live together. I know where our house is. I know our life.”

The doctor listened quietly.

“It’s possible that the trauma affected your memory,” he said.

“But I remember my life.”

“Some memories may remain intact while others are affected.”

“I’m not confused.”

He gave me a sympathetic look.

“I understand that you believe that.”

I clenched my jaw.

He didn’t believe me.

Nobody did.

For the next several days, the same thing happened.

Everyone called me Kristine.

Whenever I insisted that I wasn’t Kristine, they treated me as though I were confused because of the accident. They told me that I needed time to recover and that everything would eventually make sense.

But it didn’t.

I remembered being Maicah.

I remembered Adrian.

I remembered our wedding day.

I remembered five years of marriage.

Five beautiful years in which I had everything I could have asked for. Adrian loved me, our home was beautiful, and his company continued to thrive. We had wealth, stability, and a life that many people could only dream about.

We didn’t have children yet, but that had never become a reason for our happiness to falter.

I had everything.

Until the accident.

Then one morning, everything became even more confusing.

I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.

I froze.

The woman staring back at me was beautiful.

But she wasn’t me.

I slowly raised a trembling hand and touched my cheek.

The reflection did the same.

I moved closer.

My eyes were different.

My nose was different.

My lips were different.

The shape of my face was completely unfamiliar.

I stepped backward.

“No...”

My breathing became faster.

I touched my cheek again.

“This isn’t my face.”

I stared at the reflection, desperately searching for something familiar.

There was nothing.

“This isn’t my face!”

The bathroom door opened.

“Honey? What’s wrong?”

The woman who claimed to be my mother hurried inside.

I turned toward her.

“This face isn’t mine!”

She looked at me in confusion.

“What?”

“This isn’t my face!”

She approached and gently held my chin, examining me.

“What? Is something wrong with it? Is it ugly?”

“What?”

I stared at her.

“Are you saying... I had plastic surgery?”

“Yes, of course, honey.”

The casualness of her answer made my stomach twist.

“Why?”

She hesitated.

“Because of the accident.”

I looked at myself again.

“The accident?”

“You were badly injured.”

My fingers trembled.

“What happened to my face?”

“You suffered injuries, honey. The doctors had to perform surgery.”

I stared at the woman in the mirror.

“So this isn’t how I looked before?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

A sob escaped my throat.

I pressed both hands against my face.

I didn’t recognize myself.

I didn’t recognize the people who surrounded me.

I didn’t recognize the life everyone insisted was mine.

But I recognized one person.

Adrian.

And I wanted to go home.

I wanted my real face.

I wanted my real life.

Most of all, I wanted my husband.

A month later, they finally allowed me to leave.

I didn’t waste any time.

The moment I was discharged, I went straight to Adrian.

I convinced myself that everything would make sense once I saw him. He would look at me and recognize me. He would know that I was the woman he had married.

He had to.

The Lopez residence looked exactly as I remembered it.

The massive gates stood in front of the sprawling property. The lawn was perfectly maintained, and the house beyond it looked just as beautiful as it had in my memories.

My heart pounded as I approached the gate.

This was our home.

I pressed the intercom.

A few moments later, Manong Mel appeared.

The moment he saw me, his expression changed.

“Ma’am?”

I felt a sudden rush of relief.

“Manong Mel.”

He stared at me.

“You remember me, right?”

He didn’t answer.

“It’s me.”

He looked nervous.

“Ma’am, please leave.”

My heart sank.

“Why?”

“Sir Adrian will get mad at us.”

“Manong Mel, please.” I stepped closer to the gate. “I just need to talk to Adrian.”

“You can’t come inside.”

“Please.”

“Ma’am...”

I could see the hesitation in his eyes.

He knew something.

I just needed to get to Adrian.

I took advantage of the moment and ran past him.

“Ma’am!”

I ignored him.

“Adrian!”

I ran toward the house.

“Adrian! Adrian! Come out here!”

My voice echoed through the property.

The front door opened.

I stopped.

Adrian stood at the staircase.

My heart nearly stopped.

There he was.

My husband.

The man I had been waiting to see for an entire month.

“Adrian...”

He stared at me.

Shock crossed his face.

Then confusion.

“Kristine?”

My heart dropped.

“Adrian, listen to me. I’m your-”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m your wife.”

His eyebrows pulled together.

“What?”

“I’m your wife.”

He stared at me as though he couldn’t understand what I was saying.

Before I could explain, another voice came from behind him.

“Hon, who are you talking to?”

I turned.

A woman appeared beside Adrian.

She looked completely at ease in the house.

She belonged there.

She looked at Adrian with familiarity, and the way he looked at her made my stomach twist.

He turned toward her.

“Oh, nothing.”

Then he looked at me.

“This is Kristine, a childhood friend of mine.”

I stared at him.

A childhood friend?

He couldn’t be serious.

Then he turned toward the woman beside him.

“Kristine, meet my wife, Maicah-the love of my life.”

Everything inside me stopped.

His wife.

Maicah.

My name.

I stared at the woman.

She smiled politely and extended her hand.

“Nice to mee-”

“NO!”

My scream echoed through the house.

“She isn’t your wife!”

The woman’s hand slowly dropped.

Adrian’s expression hardened.

“Kristine.”

“I am your wife!”

I rushed toward him and cupped his face with both hands.

“Adrian, look at me! It’s me!”

He immediately pulled away.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“This woman isn’t your wife!”

“Stop.”

“I don’t know who the hell she is, but she’s lying!”

“KRISTINE!”

“I am your wife!”

Adrian grabbed my shoulders.

“What is wrong with you? What are you saying?”

“We’ve been married for five years!”

His expression changed.

For one brief moment, I thought he finally remembered.

Then he spoke.

“She is my wife.”

“No.”

“Maicah is my wife.”

“No! No! No!”

I could barely breathe.

How?

Why?

How could he look at me and not know me?

How could five years of marriage disappear as though they had never happened?

I pointed at the woman behind him.

“She’s a liar! A fraud! Who are you?”

The woman stepped backward.

I could feel my anger rising.

She had my husband.

She was standing in my house.

She was wearing my name.

I broke free from Adrian’s grasp and lunged toward her.

She screamed as I grabbed her hair.

“Get away from my husband!”

“KRISTINE!”

I slapped her across the face.

Adrian immediately grabbed me and pulled me away.

“GODDAMN IT, KRISTINE! STOP IT!”

I struggled against him.

“Let me go!”

“What is wrong with you?”

“She stole my life!”

“Stop!”

“She isn’t your wife!”

“Enough!”

He pulled me away from her and shoved me toward the floor.

I stumbled and fell.

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

I waited for him to come to me.

He didn’t.

Instead, he looked at me with coldness in his eyes.

“Leave, Kristine, before I call the police.”

My lips trembled.

“Adrian...”

He said nothing.

A hand reached toward me.

It was Manong Mel.

“Ma’am...”

I took his hand.

He helped me to my feet and quietly guided me toward the gate.

I looked back at the house as I walked away.

Our house.

The place where Adrian and I had spent five years of our lives together.

Except now, someone else was standing inside it.

Someone else was beside my husband.

Someone else was living the life that belonged to me.

The gate closed behind me.

I stood there for several seconds, staring at it through tear-filled eyes.

Then I turned around and walked away.

When I returned to my condo, I barely made it through the door before everything inside me finally exploded.

The place was supposed to be mine.

According to the documents, it belonged to Kristine Angela A. Roxas.

My name.

Except it wasn’t my name.

I stared at the documents scattered across the table. Identification cards, papers, records-everything carried the same identity.

Kristine Angela A. Roxas.

I picked up one of the documents and stared at it.

How could an entire life exist under a name that wasn’t mine?

I threw it aside.

Then I opened the closet.

Clothes.

Shoes.

Accessories.

Everything belonged to Kristine.

I pulled one piece of clothing from the rack and threw it onto the floor.

Then another.

And another.

I opened drawers and started throwing things around.

My frustration grew until I could no longer contain it.

I grabbed a glass and threw it against the wall.

It shattered.

I grabbed another object and threw that too.

Soon, the condo looked like it had been hit by a storm.

Clothes were scattered across the floor. Objects had been knocked over. Broken pieces of glass glittered beneath the furniture.

I screamed until my throat hurt.

I cried until my chest ached.

Why?

Why had everything vanished in the blink of an eye?

My husband.

My happiness.

My wealth.

My family.

My name.

My identity.

Even my own face.

I sank beside my bed, wrapping my arms around myself as sobs shook my body.

I wanted my life back.

I wanted Adrian back.

I wanted to wake up from this nightmare and discover that none of it had happened.

But the room remained silent.

There was no Adrian.

No familiar home.

No familiar face waiting for me in the mirror.

Only the life of a woman named Kristine.

Eventually, exhaustion took over.

I collapsed beside my bed and cried until sleep finally pulled me under.