The night air wrapped around Aarav and Riya as they sat on the old wooden bench at River Bridge. The river below mirrored the stars, flickering like tiny candles. Aarav couldn't stop staring at her, his mind struggling to reconcile reality with the impossible.
"You're from ten years ago," he whispered finally. "How… how is this possible?"
Riya looked away, her gaze settling on the water. "I don't fully understand it myself. But some things—some connections—exist beyond time. That's why I wrote to you, Aarav. To find you."
He swallowed. "And the letters? The notebook? You knew so many things about me…"
She smiled faintly. "Not just things. Feelings. Moments you didn't realize mattered. I wanted to understand you before I could truly meet you."
Aarav felt a warmth in his chest. "I've never felt… this before."
"I know," she said softly. "It's because we weren't supposed to. Not yet."
The wind rustled around them, carrying with it the scent of cherry blossoms from upstream. Aarav wanted to reach out, to hold her hand, but something restrained him—a delicate fear, like touching her too soon might shatter the fragile fabric of their connection.
They spent hours talking, slowly bridging ten years of separate lives, sharing dreams, fears, and the faintest glimmers of hope. And yet, beneath the warmth of their laughter, there lingered a tension neither dared name.
Because time had rules, and rules were meant to be broken only with consequences.