WE MET WHERE TIME ENDS

The first time Elara heard the song, she was seven years old. She had been sitting alone beneath the old neem tree outside her grandmother's house, humming to herself while the evening wind carried the smell of rain through the garden. She didn't know where the melody came from. She only knew that it made her chest ache. At seven, Elara didn't understand why a song could make someone feel like they had lost something. She only knew that whenever she sang it, she wanted to cry. Years later, she would realize something terrifying. She had never learned that song. 2026 — Beijing The applause came before the final note had completely faded. Elara lowered the microphone slowly. For a few seconds, she simply stood beneath the warm stage lights, breathing heavily while the small crowd in the café clapped around her. Then she smiled. "Thank you." Someone near the front shouted, "One more!" Elara laughed. "Absolutely not." The crowd laughed with her. She handed the microphone back to the sound technician and stepped away from the tiny stage. This was not the kind of place she'd imagined performing in when she was younger. No huge concert. No flashing cameras. No thousands of people screaming her name. Just a small café, a secondhand microphone, and a handful of strangers who had stayed long enough to listen. But Elara didn't mind. She loved singing. Even if, sometimes, she wasn't sure whether the songs belonged to her. She picked up her phone from the table backstage. 11:47 PM. Her eyes widened. "Great." She quickly grabbed her jacket. She had promised herself she would sleep early tonight. Instead, she had spent three hours rehearsing. Again. And again. And again. Until she had finally sung the same strange song that had followed her since childhood. The song she couldn't remember learning. The song she had never written down. The song she could somehow sing perfectly every time. As she walked out of the café, she began humming it unconsciously. One step. Two. Three. Then she stopped. Her smile disappeared. Someone was humming the same melody. Behind her. Elara slowly turned around. The café was almost empty. A waiter was wiping a table. An elderly couple was talking quietly near the window. Nobody was singing. She frowned. "Okay..." She rubbed her arms. "That's creepy." She turned back toward the street. And then she noticed the shop across the road. An antique store. She had passed it dozens of times. She had never noticed it before. Tonight, however, something in the window caught her attention. A pocket watch. Old. Blackened with age. Its silver surface was covered with strange scratches, almost like someone had carved words into it. Elara stepped closer to the glass. Her heart suddenly began beating faster. She didn't know why. She simply stared. 11:59. The watch had stopped at exactly 11:59. A strange feeling crawled up her spine. I've seen this before. The thought came so suddenly that she almost laughed. "No, you haven't." She whispered to herself. Yet she couldn't move. The shop door opened. An old man stood inside. He looked directly at her. "You finally came." Elara froze. "...Excuse me?" The old man smiled. Not warmly. Almost sadly. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't." Elara took one step backward. "Do I know you?" "No." His eyes moved toward the pocket watch. "But you know that." He pointed at it. Elara stared at the watch. "How much?" The old man didn't answer. Instead, he said quietly, "Take it." She laughed nervously. "Absolutely not." "You'll need it." "For what?" The old man's expression changed. For the first time, Elara noticed something strange in his eyes. Fear. "To find the man who's been waiting for you." The world seemed to go silent. Elara stared at him. "What man?" But the old man had already turned away. "Go home, Miss Elara." Her blood ran cold. She had never told him her name. She should have walked away. She knew that. Instead, five minutes later, she was standing in her apartment, staring at the antique pocket watch sitting on her desk. She hadn't paid for it. The old man hadn't asked for money. He had simply disappeared into the back of the shop. And somehow... Elara had taken the watch. She picked it up. Cold. Far too cold. Her fingers brushed over the engraved back. There was a sentence written there. The letters were old-fashioned and slightly faded. She couldn't understand why, but she could read them perfectly. “When time ends, find me.” Her breathing stopped. A sudden pain shot through her head. Images flashed before her eyes. A garden. A stone pathway. A man standing beneath a huge clock tower. Blood on his white sleeve. His face hidden by rain. And a voice. A man's voice. Soft. Broken. Calling her name. “Elara...” She dropped the watch. It hit the floor. Tick. She stared at it. The second hand moved. Tick. Her heart hammered. Tick. 11:59. Tick. The lights in her apartment flickered. Then went out. Elara stood completely still in the darkness. The watch continued ticking. Once. Twice. Three times. Then— 12:00. A violent gust of wind exploded through the room. The curtains flew open even though the windows were closed. The watch began glowing faintly. Elara reached for it. And the moment her fingers touched the metal— she heard the same man's voice again. Much closer this time. Almost directly beside her ear. "You came back." Elara screamed. The room disappeared. And somewhere, more than a hundred years away— a young man suddenly opened his eyes. He looked toward the ancient clock hanging above his bed. Its hands had stopped. 11:59. For the first time in his life, Adrian whispered a name he had been forbidden to remember. "Elara." And the clock struck midnight.