When time forgets us

--- Chapter One: The Stranger in the Rain The storm hit just as Elara stepped off the late-night tram. Thunder cracked above the cobblestone streets of Andellia City, and rain came down like sheets of glass. Her umbrella flipped inside out. Classic. She groaned, wrapping her coat tighter, heels splashing through puddles as she rushed toward the quiet park shortcut home. That’s when she saw him—standing soaked to the bone beneath the glow of the ancient clock tower. Tall, broad-shouldered, with unruly black hair clinging to his face. He looked out of place, like a shadow torn from another time. Their eyes locked. “Elara,” he said—her name, as if he had whispered it a thousand times in a thousand dreams. Her breath caught. “Do I know you?” He stepped closer. “Not yet. But you will. And when you do... you’ll wish time never found us again.” *Her heart skipped.* There was something haunting in his voice. Familiar. Intimate. And yet impossible. She should’ve run. She should’ve asked questions. Instead, she let him follow her. Back at her apartment, the lights flickered, and reality blurred. He looked around as if searching for something... or remembering it. “You lived here before?” she asked. “In a way,” he murmured. “In a time before this one.” *She laughed nervously.* “You’re insane.” He didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and touched her cheek. Warmth spread across her skin like fire. Every part of her trembled under his gaze. She should’ve stopped him. But instead— He kissed her. And it wasn’t just a kiss. It was like falling through lifetimes. Her knees buckled, and he caught her, lifting her gently as he pressed her against the wall. Clothes fell away like memories. Fingers explored like they'd been there before. Their bodies danced like echoes, and *when he whispered her name again*, it sounded like the only truth in the world. Afterward, wrapped in the silence, she asked, “Who are you?” His answer chilled her spine. “I’m the man you loved in another life... and I’ve only got seven days before time rips us apart again.” --- Elara lay tangled in the sheets, her breath still uneven. The air smelled of rain and something else—something ancient and strange. The man stood by the window now, shirtless, staring out into the storm as lightning lit his silhouette. “What do you mean... seven days?” she finally asked, pulling the blanket closer to her bare skin. He turned slowly, his eyes—grey with a glint of gold—held sadness. “Time doesn’t move the same for me. I don’t belong here. Every few decades, I’m pulled into a moment, one where we always meet... and lose each other.” Elara blinked, unsure whether to laugh or be afraid. “So what are you saying? We’re... soulmates across time?” “I’m saying,” he walked back to her, kneeling by the bed, “you’ve always been the reason I return.” Her pulse quickened again. She could still taste him on her lips. Everything about him was overwhelming—his scent, the heat in his touch, the way his voice seemed to settle deep inside her. “But I don’t remember any past lives,” she whispered. “You will,” he said, placing his hand over her heart. “Here.” She closed her eyes and felt something—flashes of unfamiliar memories. A garden with red moons. A battlefield. A wedding under starlight. The same man. His voice. His hands. His body. She gasped, eyes flying open. “What the hell are you?” His lips touched her ear. “I’m yours. And you’re mine. Even if time keeps forgetting us.” A deep ache bloomed in her chest. She reached for him, needing his kiss again. Their mouths collided—hungry, desperate. Her body answered his like it always had, a rhythm carved into her bones. This time, when he entered her, it wasn’t just s*x—it was like something sacred was breaking open inside her. *She moaned his name—not because he told her—but because she remembered.* “David...” He stilled. His eyes widened. “You remember?” She nodded slowly, tears blurring her vision. “Pieces... of us.” His forehead pressed to hers. “Then we don’t have much time.” The clock struck midnight. The countdown had begun. --- Elara’s breath trembled against his skin as he held her close, their bodies wrapped together in the aftermath of passion, memory, and something neither of them could yet name. “I remember fire,” she whispered. “And a crown... I wore a crown of vines.” David nodded, brushing his fingers through her hair. “You were the Guardian of the Vale. And I was... the one forbidden to love you.” A cold shiver ran down her spine. “Why?” “Because I was death. A reaper cursed to fall in love with the same soul every time she was reborn. You were always light—always chosen by the stars.” “And yet here we are again,” she said with a small, broken laugh. He cupped her face gently. “Seven days, Elara. That’s all we have before time takes me back.” “Then we make them count,” she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss. Their mouths met—slow, burning, endless. Her body moved under his, welcoming him again. His hands traced every curve, learning her all over like it was the first and last time. This wasn’t just lust. It was centuries of craving wrapped into each thrust, every moan, every shudder. He kissed her collarbone, her ribs, her stomach—whispering her name like a prayer. Her nails scraped down his back as she arched into him, gasping his name. “David—don’t stop—please...” “I won’t,” he growled, voice thick with need. “Not until you forget where time ends and we begin.” And as their bodies collided again, thunder rolled outside, and somewhere in the dark sky, the stars shifted. Because they remembered, too. --- The room grew warmer with every breath, their bodies slick with desire and longing—an ache that had spanned lifetimes. Elara’s back arched as David’s mouth traced a path down her neck, his lips reverent, his hands firm yet trembling with restraint. He looked up at her, voice hoarse. “Tell me you feel it too—that this isn’t just flesh.” “I feel it,” she breathed. “It’s like... like I’ve been waiting lifetimes for this.” David kissed her again—deeper, slower. Their lips danced with urgency, and his hand slid down her waist, gripping her hip as her legs wrapped around him with trust and fire. He entered her again, slowly, like a vow, and her gasp echoed through the silence. Each movement was a rhythm older than time—measured not by seconds, but by memories reawakening. He held her close, his mouth at her ear. “You used to whisper to me under the moon,” he murmured between kisses, “that we’d always find each other.” She whimpered softly as his pace deepened, their bodies moving in perfect unison. “Then don’t stop,” she whispered. “Remind me with every touch.” Their souls collided just as hard as their bodies. Fingers tangled, hearts raced, moans muffled against skin. They weren’t just making love—they were remembering it. And when she shattered beneath him—crying out his name with tears spilling from her eyes—it wasn’t just pleasure. It was release. From the curse. From the forgetting. From the years fate had kept them apart. David kissed her eyelids as she came down from the high. “This time,” he vowed, “I won’t let the stars steal you again.” She curled into his chest, breathless. “Then make me remember again. And again.” --- Hours had passed—or maybe just minutes. Time, for once, felt mercifully slow. The city buzzed beyond the window, unaware that inside that apartment, two souls had rediscovered each other through fire and whispers. Elara lay tangled in the sheets, David tracing slow, feather-light circles along her bare shoulder. It was the most peaceful she had felt in years… yet beneath the calm, her mind swirled with questions. “David,” she asked softly, her voice fragile, “why does it feel like you know me better than I know myself?” He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Because I do.” She shifted, resting her chin on his chest, her eyes searching his. “Then tell me. Tell me what you remember.” He hesitated. “It’ll sound insane.” “I just made love to a man who speaks in riddles and looks at me like he’s seen my soul a thousand times. Try me.” David exhaled slowly. “You once danced under cherry blossoms in Kyoto. You wore a white silk scarf and told me I had eyes like the sky after a storm. That was… 1874.” She froze. “And before that,” he continued, “we were painters in Florence. Lovers. Starving, but happy. You died in a fire. I never left that city again.” Elara sat up, a tremble in her fingers. “You’re serious.” “I wish I wasn’t. Every lifetime, I remember. You never do. Until now…” Her heart thundered. “Then why now? Why me again?” He sat up too, cupping her face. “Because something’s different this time. You’re waking up, Elara. Piece by piece.” Suddenly, her head throbbed. A flash. Rain. A broken violin. A kiss in the ruins of a library. She gasped. “I… I saw something.” David leaned in, breath shaky. “That’s how it starts.” Just then, her phone buzzed, breaking the spell. Unknown number. She ignored it. But deep down, something told her this wasn’t just passion or fantasy. This was fate resuming its course. And fate? Never played fair. __ Elara stood by the window now, wrapped in David’s shirt. The city lights flickered below, casting gold across her skin. Behind her, David sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with an intensity that held both reverence and fear. “You keep saying we’ve lived before,” she whispered. “But if that’s true, why can’t I remember everything?” David rose, walking over to her slowly. “Because remembering isn’t easy. It comes in fragments. In dreams, touches, déjà vu. Sometimes pain unlocks it. Sometimes… love does.” She turned to face him. “And this? Tonight? That was supposed to help me remember?” He didn’t smile. “No. That was because I’ve waited lifetimes to touch you again. And I couldn’t wait another second.” Elara’s heart clenched at the honesty in his voice. Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door startled them both. David stiffened. “Stay here.” He grabbed his pants and crossed the room cautiously. When he opened the door, a man stood there—tall, with sharp features and cold eyes. He wore a black coat and carried something that looked very out of place: a silver coin etched with strange symbols. “Timekeeper,” David muttered, barely audible. The man’s eyes flicked to Elara behind him. “She’s beginning to remember.” David blocked the doorway. “She’s not ready.” “She has to be. Or the timelines fracture. Again.” “What do you want me to do? Force it?” The Timekeeper’s gaze hardened. “If she doesn’t remember who she is before the eclipse, everything resets. Including you. You’ll lose her. Again.” David’s jaw clenched. Then the man was gone—just like that. As if he never existed. Elara’s breath shook. “Who was that?” He turned to her, dread settling deep in his eyes. “Someone who decides what lives and what fades.” A chill ran through her. The temperature dropped, though the windows were shut. “Elara,” David whispered, stepping toward her, “you’re more than just my past. You’re a key to something bigger.” Her voice trembled. “Bigger than us?” He touched her cheek. “Bigger than time itself.” As the clock struck midnight, thunder rumbled in the distance. And somewhere, across dimensions unseen, something stirred—watching, waiting. Because when time forgets you, destiny remembers.