The bridge was silent now, but Aryan couldn't move. His hand still tingled from the spark when it brushed Meera's. She had vanished into the fog almost as suddenly as she appeared, leaving only the faint glow of the diary floating mid-air.
He reached for it, and the moment his fingers touched the cover, the world shifted. The air thickened, carrying whispers he couldn't understand.
"You're late… time waits for no one… save me…"
Aryan's heart hammered. "Who's there?" he whispered into the cold night. The fog didn't answer. Only the river's slow, rhythmic flow responded, like a distant heartbeat.
The diary quivered in his hand, opening by itself. Each page glowed brighter, words reshaping themselves before his eyes:
"The town remembers, but forgets. The clock ticks backward and forward. If you fail… I disappear forever."
Aryan swallowed hard. He had to understand this. He had to see Meera again. But how?
A Glimpse into the Past
The diary pulsed, and suddenly he was no longer on the bridge. Instead, he found himself in a shadowy version of the town, as if time itself had twisted. Fog curled between the lampposts, and the streets were empty. Every house seemed frozen mid-moment, windows flickering like forgotten memories.
Then he saw her.
Meera.
She walked through the streets as though searching for something, her eyes haunted. When she passed, the air shimmered and whispered again:
"Do not let them forget… do not let them erase me…"
Aryan ran after her, but the streets stretched endlessly. Every turn he took seemed to bring him back to the bridge. Time itself was broken, folding in on him, teasing him.
He yelled, "Meera! Wait!"
She stopped and turned, eyes wide, and for a fleeting moment, recognition sparked.
"You found me… but the clock is running out…"
The First Trial
Before he could respond, shadows slithered from the fog—dark, flickering forms, twisting into humanoid shapes. They whispered his name, mocking, taunting:
"You cannot save her… you do not belong here…"
Aryan gritted his teeth and held the diary before him. A golden glow burst out, illuminating the shadows. They hissed, recoiling, then vanished into the mist.
He collapsed, chest heaving. "This… this isn't just about her being trapped. This is… something bigger."
The Town's Secret
Back in the real world, Aryan spent the next day trying to research the town's history. He scoured old newspapers, digital archives, and town records.
Every record of Meera vanished after ten years. It was as if she had never existed—except for the diary.
He found rumors of a girl who appeared in the town, vanished mysteriously, and was rumored to walk between days. No official record. No photograph. Only whispered stories from old residents.
Aryan realized: the diary was a bridge between realities, and he was the only one who could see it.
The Growing Bond
That night, Aryan returned to the bridge, diary in hand. The mist swirled around him, curling like fingers.
Then he heard her voice, faint but real:
"Aryan… you came back."
He turned and saw her, stepping out from the fog, fragile yet radiant. Her eyes met his, and he felt that unexplainable pull again.
"I will save you," he whispered, taking her hand. "No matter what."
She smiled faintly. "But it's dangerous. Time doesn't forgive mistakes."
"I don't care," Aryan said firmly. "I'll risk everything. Even reality itself."
The diary floated between them, pulsing with golden light, as if affirming their bond.
The Warning of Tomorrow
Suddenly, a chilling wind blew across the bridge. The diary quivered violently, pages flipping rapidly. Words appeared:
"Tomorrow, you will face the first test. Only courage and trust can save her. Fail, and she will vanish… forever."
Aryan's heart clenched. He had no idea what the test would be—but he knew he couldn't fail. Not now. Not ever.
As the fog thickened, Meera held his hand tighter. "We'll face it together," she whispered.
And for the first time, Aryan felt the true weight of their impossible love—a love that could bend time itself, but demanded courage beyond fear.