The rain had stopped just moments ago, leaving the cobblestone streets of the old city slick and shimmering beneath the amber glow of the lanterns. Clara pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, the scent of petrichor clinging to the night air. She wasn’t sure why she took the long way home — something pulled her, inexplicably, toward Lantern Bridge.
The bridge was old, arched elegantly over the river that divided the town. They said it was haunted by memories — lovers long gone, promises broken, moments suspended in time. Clara had never believed in any of it. But tonight felt... different.
As she reached the bridge’s peak, she paused, staring out over the water. The moon peeked through clouds, casting silver ripples. And that’s when she saw him.
A man, leaning on the railing at the far end. He was still, as if listening to something only he could hear. Dark coat, soaked cuffs, hair tousled like he’d run through a storm. Clara’s heart gave a single, confused beat.
She hesitated, then walked toward him, boots clicking softly on wet stone.
He didn’t move until she was nearly beside him. When he turned, his eyes were the first thing she noticed — deep, tired, but kind. He looked at her as if he knew her.
“I thought I was alone,” she said, softly.
“Maybe we’re both meant to be,” he replied, voice low but warm.
Clara laughed quietly. “That’s a sad thing to say to someone on a bridge.”
He smiled at that, and it transformed him — suddenly he was younger, more alive.
“What brings you here at this hour?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Couldn’t sleep. Something told me to walk.”
He nodded. “Same.”
They stood in silence for a while, the only sound the trickling of water and the distant hoot of an owl. Then he said, “Funny, isn’t it? You pass thousands of people in your life. And sometimes… one moment changes everything.”
Clara turned to him, searching his face. “Do you believe in fate?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. Until tonight.”
A wind passed between them, lifting her scarf, brushing their hands together just barely. The contact was electric. Clara inhaled sharply.
“I feel like I’ve met you before,” she whispered.
“You haven’t,” he said gently, “but I’ve been waiting to.”
A sudden light flared above them — a lantern, swinging in the breeze. For a heartbeat, everything glowed golden. And Clara saw something strange in his eyes: a glimmer, like stars reflected in deep water.
“Who are you?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
He stepped closer, his fingers brushing hers.
“Someone who only exists once every hundred years,” he said softly. “Only on the night when the bridge remembers.”
Clara blinked. “What?”
He took her hand fully now. Warm. Solid. Real. “I’m not a ghost,” he said. “But I’m not... entirely alive either. I was cursed, long ago. To wait. Until someone who truly sees me finds me again. Someone brave enough to stop. To ask. To stay.”
Clara stared, heart pounding. “Why me?”
“Because you weren’t looking for anything... but you still came. That’s the kind of love that breaks spells.”
The lantern above them flared again — then dimmed. The night was shifting.
“If you walk away,” he said, “I’ll forget. And I’ll wait another century. But if you stay, really stay... everything changes.”
Clara didn’t answer immediately. Her brain screamed nonsense. Her heart whispered truth.
“I don’t even know your name,” she said.
He smiled, stepping closer. “It’s Elias.”
“Clara,” she said, quietly. “I’m Clara.”
Elias held out his hand. Not just a gesture. An invitation.
And Clara, without knowing why, took it.
The lanterns all along the bridge burst into light.
The river swelled with shimmer.
And for the first time in a hundred years, the bridge stopped waiting.
