“I can’t do this anymore.”
The words slipped from Ava’s lips before she could stop them, raw and desperate. She felt it—the weight of everything she hadn’t said, everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel. And then, just as she was about to break, the glow came.
It wasn’t gradual. It was sudden, fierce—alive.
Ava’s eyes snapped to her wrist as the watch flared, its gold light bursting through the darkness of her apartment like a warning. The room flickered, the soft hum of the city outside fading into nothing as the watch pulsed with an intensity she couldn’t ignore.
It wasn’t a flicker. Not a pulse. This was different. This was alive.
Her breath caught in her throat, a shiver running down her spine as the light washed over her. She didn’t question it. She didn’t have time to. She just knew.
With a sudden jerk, she grabbed her coat off the chair, her keys forgotten on the table. She didn’t even look back as she ran toward the door.
The elevator was waiting. The lobby was silent, empty. Every step she took felt like it was pushing her toward something she couldn’t understand, but couldn’t deny.
She wasn’t stopping this time. Not for anyone.
The air outside was cold, but the urgency burning inside her kept her warm. Ava’s feet hit the pavement hard as she hailed a cab, her voice breaking as she shouted the address.
“Hawthorn and 6th. Darla’s Watch Repair.”
The driver didn’t ask questions. He didn’t blink. The city lights blurred past her, a streak of colors and sounds too fast to process, until the cab finally slowed in front of the small, weathered shop.
Ava’s heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling as she stepped out of the cab. The cold air wrapped around her like a blanket, but she couldn’t feel it.
All she could feel was the pull. The urgency. The feeling that something inside her was about to break wide open, and there was no way to stop it.
The street was eerily quiet. It was as though the world had paused—waiting for her.
Ava’s breath fogged in the air as she approached the shop. The faint golden glow from inside flickered through the window like a heartbeat, steady and constant. Her pulse quickened as she reached for the door.
But before she could even touch it, it creaked open by itself, as though the shop was expecting her.
The bell overhead chimed softly, like it remembered her. The air inside hadn’t changed—still smelled like dust and time and something older than both.
Ava stepped forward, slow, reverent, the watch’s glow painting her steps gold. Behind the counter stood Darla. No surprise in her eyes. No shock. Just a soft, knowing smile.
“He never forgot you,” she said, voice gentle. Ava’s knees nearly gave out. “Not even across time,” Darla continued. “He found his way. Just like you did.”
Ava clutched the edge of the counter. “Where is he?” Her voice trembled. “Please—where?”
Darla nodded toward the back. “He’s waiting.”
Ava’s heart twisted. Her feet moved on their own. Past the counter. Through the worn velvet curtain. Into the back room she’d only glimpsed once before. But this time, it was brighter.
Warmer. Alive. And there—standing in the center—was Jace.
He turned as if he’d known she was coming. His eyes found hers, and they didn’t blink. Didn’t doubt.
It was him. Not seventeen. Not cruel or broken or haunted by who he used to be. But grown. Beautiful. Real. His hair was a little longer. His jaw is more defined.
But his eyes—God, his eyes—still held the ache of remembering everything.
“You came,” he said, voice cracking.
Ava stepped forward, unable to breathe. “How—?”
“I don’t know. I just…” He shook his head, eyes glassy. “Followed the ache. I followed you.”
Her hand flew to her chest. “I thought I lost you.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “Even when time pulled us apart.”
“You found a way back,” she whispered.
“I had to,” he said, stepping closer. “If time was the cost—I’d pay it again. A thousand times.”
“You never had to,” she said, voice breaking. “Not alone.”
Jace reached out. His hand found hers like no years had passed. No versions had shattered. He pulled her into his arms, the warmth of him grounding her, healing her.
She clutched his back, her tears soaking into his shirt.
“I thought I imagined you,” she said into his chest.
“You didn’t,” he whispered. “You remembered me. And I remembered what it felt like to be seen.”
They stood there for a long time, saying nothing. Letting everything settle between them—grief, time, hope.
“The shop wasn’t here before,” she said, pulling back slightly. “I checked.”
“It found you when it needed to,” he replied. “Or maybe when you needed it.”
“So what now?” she asked. “Do we go back? Forward? Stay?”
He smiled—soft, weary, certain. “We don’t have to chase time anymore. We just hold it. Here. Together.”
Her chest ached with the weight of believing it was possible.
They sat on the worn sofa tucked into the far corner of the room, their fingers still intertwined. Jace looked at the watch on her wrist.
“That thing never gave up,” he murmured. Ava nodded. “It knew. Even when I didn’t.”
“I used to be afraid of remembering,” he said. “Now I’m afraid of forgetting again.”
“We won’t,” she promised. “Even if the world tries to erase us.”
“You think it’ll try?” he asked. “Time doesn’t like loose ends.”
“Then we make a knot,” she said. “Tie ourselves to ‘now’.”
“To each other,” he added. She leaned her head on his shoulder. The ticking grew louder. Not menacing—just full. Like the sound of something beginning.
“This isn’t the end,” he said quietly.
“No,” she replied. “This is the part they never tell you about. The chapter after the goodbye.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “The part where love survives time.”
They stayed like that for what felt like hours. No clocks. No fear. Just the sound of the shop breathing around them. Ava closed her eyes and let her body memorize the moment. Every beat. Every second.
“You know what’s strange?” she said finally. “What?”
“Even when I hated you, some part of me never stopped hoping.” He exhaled, his voice rough. “Even when I hated myself, some part of me still loved you.”
She turned to him. Their faces close. Eyes locked.
“You broke me once,” she whispered. “But you didn’t leave me shattered.”
“You pieced me back together,” he said. “From a different timeline.”
“We don’t belong to time,” she said. “Time belongs to us.”
His hand cradled her jaw. “Then let’s make it wait.”
She nodded, tears falling freely now. “Let’s make it ours.”
Their foreheads touched, breath shared. And then they kissed—slow, aching, infinite. But just before the light fades, a shadow watches from the hallway.
Because time? Time isn’t done with them yet.
[The End]