Through Time, For You.

Episode Three

I've always believed that if you wanted something badly enough, the universe would bend – even if it's just a little – to make it happen. I've never experienced it personally, but then again, I don't think I've ever wished for anything that badly.

At least not consciously.

The elevator thrums quietly as I rest my head on the wall, grateful for the silence – my usual coffee missing.

Dead men don't text.

My eyes drift to the polished metal surface opposite me, and I catch my reflection: Black curls tied into a knot, crisp blue shirt tucked neatly into black slacks and my ever-reliable black flats – a little old, but it did the job. My gray eyes look almost blue under the lights, with dark circles curling beneath them. The elevator dings to a stop and Nate from IT walks in, his signature headphones resting comfortably around his neck.

“Hey Nate” I greet, standing upright.

“Hi,” he says. His eyes, as usual, flick at me before settling somewhere on the floor. There are coffee stains on his gray hoodie and his sandy hair is in its usual mess.

“Rough night?” I ask.

“Yeah. Those damn bugs kept me awake all night and I spilled coffee on myself – twice.”

I pause.

“I thought you fixed that?”

“I wish,” he sighs audibly, “it would've saved me the stress.”

Huh?

Just then, the elevator dings to a stop and we both step out. But my mind is running a marathon. A faint memory of Nate complaining about bugs tugs at my brain. We even had a small celebratory cookie with Troy, Gina and Mira. Because he fixed it…

At the front desk, Tammy is chatting with Nate animatedly. Her smile is wide, showing straight white, even teeth. Whereas Nate barely responds – hands nervously going through his hair.

“Hey June,” Tammy asks, “You look tired.”

“Hi Tammy”. I look over at Nate, but his eyes are fixed on his screen.

Right. Tammy was there for the celebratory cookie. She had handed everyone homemade muffins. They were really nice, so much so that I asked her for the recipe, and she willingly gave it to me.

“Tammy” My palms are sweaty as I tug at my tote.

“Mm?” She glances at me briefly.

“I really loved your muffin recipe. I've used it for every muffin I've made. My heart is beating erratically and a quick glance at Nate tells me I've got his attention again.

Her eyebrows pull together slightly and her smile falters before it falls back into place again.

“I do have a chocolate muffin recipe that is absolutely to die for… but, I'm yet to perfect it”, she scratches the back of her hair. “I'm not sure if I've shared it with anyone yet though.”

My chest tightens. Nate gives me a look before murmuring something about a meeting he has, then leaves.

What just happened?

“Right, it must've been Gina's,” I say, smiling as I walk away. The office hums with the early morning rush – not the stillness that seemed to settle over everyone after Mr. Harrington's passing.

My flats are muted as I walk towards my office – my chest squeezing with every step.

“Ayo June!” Troy calls as he makes his way towards me. His tie is loose as always, but there's a lightness in his step that was missing yesterday.

“Morning, Troy,” I say, my voice coming out hoarse.

“I sent the emails you requested yesterday.” He gives me a once over before his smile disappears, “What happened to your bangs?”

“My bangs?” I ask, hand flying to my hair.

“Have you gotten rid of them already?”

“I…” , I swallowed, “I don't know,”

His lips thin, but he remains quiet, eyes roaming over my face.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Was I?

“Today has been… weird,” my voice drops in a whisper.

“How?” His brows furrowed.

“I don't know where to place it, but Nate –”

“June?”

It isn't Troy's voice.

It's deeper, curt and just a little foreign. Achingly familiar in a way that makes my stomach dip.

I freeze. Something close to dread climbing up my spine.

Troy is still in front of me, worry etched across his face, but I turn – slow, tentative – like I already know what I'm going to see but still can't believe it.

Miles Harrington.

Breathing. Standing just a few steps away from me. Coffee in hand. Perfectly alive. My heart drops so hard I feel dizzy. My fingers tremble, and my bag suddenly feels too heavy to carry.

He looks… normal. My eyes trace his features – pressed white shirt, dark slacks. That same sharp jawline and unreadable expression. And then, worse than anything, he nods – a ghost of a smile tugging his lips, like this was just a regular Tuesday morning. No, no, no… he's not supposed to smile. And neither was he supposed to be alive, my subconscious adds.

“You look pale,” he says, frowning slightly.

“Are you okay?”

And just like that, I'm falling – the darkness pulling me in.