Ellie never stayed long in one timeline.
As a time traveler, her life was a mosaic of stolen years and borrowed moments—always moving, never belonging.
She told herself it was freedom.
But freedom felt a lot like loneliness.
Until she met him.
Liam.
The man who bled starlight and smiled like he knew every version of her.
The first time was in 18th-century Paris, under a flickering lamplight as snow dusted the cobblestone streets.
“You’re late,” he said, sipping wine like he’d been waiting centuries.
She fled that night—spooked.
Curious.
Drawn.
But he always found her.
1912.
A rainy London alley.
“Miss me?”
1930s Shanghai.
A speakeasy lit by cigarette smoke and jazz.
“Can’t run forever, Ellie.”
2046. A floating city in the sky.
“I like your new haircut.”
Every time she jumped, she tried to shake him off. Every time, he appeared—unchanged, unaging, a constant in her ever-spinning world.
“I’m cursed,” he once told her.
“Immortal. I watched the stars die. But I only started living when I met you.”
She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t.
Because love meant roots, and roots didn’t grow in moving timelines.
But one day, something changed.
She landed in a war-torn future.
Ash in the sky.
Silence in the air.
A broken world.
No Liam.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
She waited.
And for the first time, he didn’t come.
That’s when she realized—she missed him.
No, not missed.
Needed him.
His calm.
His knowing gaze.
The way he always looked at her like she was home.
So she jumped—again and again—searching him.
And finally, she found him.
Sitting by a river in the far future, gazing at a dying sun.
“You came back,” he whispered.
“mmmm...” she said, stepping into his arms.
They stayed like that for hours—centuries passing in silence.
And when she asked, “What now?”
He smiled. “Now… you stop running.”
So she did.
For the first time, Ellie chose a moment not to escape—but to stay.
Because loving Liam wasn’t about holding time still.
It was about choosing him, again and again, no matter when.
