The town hadn't changed.
As Aveline stepped outside the quiet boarding house—the same one she had lived in while freelancing after college—she was struck by how still everything felt. Morning sunlight warmed the sidewalk, the scent of fresh bread drifted from the nearby bakery, and the rusted wind chimes on Mrs. Ellery's porch sang the same off-key melody they always had.
It was all the same.
Except her.
She felt like a ghost haunting her own life.
She checked her phone again—10:43 AM. The café Lucien suggested was only a few blocks away. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. It still didn't feel real. Could she really change what was coming? Was she strong enough?
A bus passed, and a sudden flash of memory hit her: Lucien waiting at the same corner, tapping his fingers on a takeaway cup, his dark hair wind-tousled, that crooked smile playing on his lips like he knew the secrets of the world.
She remembered how her heart had skipped that day. The day she first realized she wanted more than friendship.
And now, she was walking into that memory—with all the weight of knowing how it would end.
Aveline entered the café.
It was exactly as she remembered: pale wood floors, the scent of espresso and cinnamon, the little bookshelf near the entrance with abandoned paperbacks. She spotted him immediately.
Lucien.
He hadn't seen her yet. He was seated near the window, fingers curled around his mug, scribbling something in a little leather notebook. His black button-up shirt was slightly wrinkled, and a pair of sunglasses rested on the table beside him.
He looked alive.
So alive it hurt.
Her feet felt frozen. All she could do was stare. His lips were slightly parted as he mouthed the words he was writing—just like always. She remembered how much she loved watching him create, how words seemed to pour from his soul without resistance.
A barista passed behind her, brushing her shoulder, snapping her out of the daze.
Lucien looked up.
And their eyes met.
She forgot how to breathe.
"Aves?" His smile broke across his face like morning light. "You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."
Aveline forced herself forward, one step at a time, like she was walking through water. She sat across from him, her hands trembling beneath the table.
"Sorry," she said, managing a small laugh. "Weird morning."
"Dream hangover?" he teased.
If only he knew.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing in concern. "You sure you're okay?"
She couldn't lie to those eyes—not the ones she'd seen close for the last time.
"I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm just… really glad to see you."
Lucien tilted his head, a soft crease forming between his brows. "You're acting strange. Did I miss your birthday or something?"
She smiled, tears welling behind her lashes. "No. I think today's going to be perfect."
He chuckled and leaned back. "Well, I brought my best sarcasm and halfway-decent poetry, so we're off to a good start."
The barista brought her coffee. She took a sip, grateful for the distraction. But her heart wouldn't stop aching.
She was looking into the eyes of a man who didn't know he would die in five years.
Who didn't know what he meant to her yet.
Who didn't know she had already watched him slip away once—and had begged time to bring him back.
"You're staring," Lucien said, amused. "Do I have something on my face?"
"No," she said softly. "I just missed you."
He blinked. "Missed me? We had dinner three nights ago."
Aveline smiled, sadness and joy tangling together in her chest. "Right. I guess I missed this version of you."
Lucien raised a curious brow but didn't press further. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee and studied her in return.
"You're… different today. Like something changed overnight."
She looked at him, knowing how much would change if she succeeded. Or failed.
"It did," she said. "Everything did."
And somewhere in her coat pocket, the silver pocket watch warmed gently against her side—its glow faint but steady.
A sign.
A beginning.