The Eve Before

Chapter 6

The bathroom was small but clean, tucked at the far end of the narrow hallway. The walls were made of rough stone, softened only by an old lace curtain over the tiny window. A porcelain basin rested on a wooden stand beside a deep copper tub, steam curling from its surface. Clara had even left a small bar of soap—scented faintly of lavender—and a folded towel on a stool nearby.

Evelyn sank into the warm water with a soft sigh. It was the first time since arriving that she felt even remotely human. She let the heat seep into her bones, scrubbing away the chill and exhaustion of the past day.

Afterward, she dried off and gathered her crumpled clothes, wrapping the thick blanket back around her as she padded back toward the sitting room where the folded clothes Clara had set out waited. She held the bundle close, warm and grateful.

Just as she stepped into the room, the door creaked open.

Jacob walked in, mid-sentence—then froze.

Evelyn gasped softly, gripping the blanket tighter around herself. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and her cheeks flushed deep red.

Jacob blinked and immediately turned around, facing the wall. “I—sorry! I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly, voice a little too high. “You can go now.”

Still facing away, he gave a short, awkward nod and stepped back out, gently shutting the door behind him.

Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Her heart was racing for no reason at all.

She stood still for a moment, listening to the quiet click of the door. The silence settled around her like a second blanket—warm, awkward, and oddly comforting.

She let the blanket slip a little and reached for the clothes Clara had left: a soft cotton dress in a pale beige, with buttons down the front and a faded blue ribbon at the waist. It looked simple, almost too simple for someone who had just stepped out of the 21st century, but Evelyn slipped into it easily. The fabric was warm, the fit surprisingly perfect.

There were woolen stockings and a thick knitted cardigan too. She dressed quickly, running her fingers through her damp hair and pushing it back from her face.

She glanced at herself in the small oval mirror hanging above the hearth.

Different. But not bad.

Her sharp black dress and heels were folded neatly on the couch now—completely out of place in this world of wooden floors and crackling fires. She stepped away from them, from that version of herself, and toward something... quieter.

When she opened the door to the hallway, Jacob was waiting—this time sitting on a bench with a mug in hand, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

He looked up as she stepped out. For a second, neither of them spoke.

“You look…” he started, then stopped himself. “Warmer.”

She gave a small smile. “Thanks. And sorry for earlier.”

He shrugged. “My fault. I should’ve knocked.”

Another pause.

“You hungry?” he asked.

She nodded. “Starving.”

“Come on then,” he said, standing and gesturing toward the kitchen. “Clara’s probably baked half the town by now.”

Evelyn followed him, her stomach already rumbling at the scent of cinnamon and warm bread drifting through the air. It was strange—still strange—but not unwelcome.

And for the first time since landing in this impossible place, she didn’t feel entirely out of place.