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Fragments of Time (Chapter 2.3)
Scene 3 - Reality Slipping
“Yenson,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she reached out to touch the glass.
The name hung in the air, both familiar and foreign to Melody’s lips. Her fingertips barely grazed the cold surface of the mirror, and suddenly, the world around her dissolved. The basement’s dim light flickered out, replaced by the warm glow of a sunset reflecting off the surface of a quiet lake. A breeze carried the scent of lavender and grass, the soft rustling of leaves filling the silence.
Melody blinked. She was no longer herself—no longer in her own time.
Madeleine.
The name surfaced in her mind like an echo, and as she glanced down, she saw the intricate lace of the wedding gown brushing the ground beneath her. Ivory and detailed with delicate embroidery, it felt heavy and tight against her chest, a symbol of status and expectation. The lake stretched out in front of her, serene and timeless, but there was tension in the air, a sense of something unresolved.
Madeleine’s breath hitched as she turned toward the gathering near the white tent where guests were mingling. Laughter and clinking glasses floated through the warm evening air, but her heart was elsewhere. Her husband, Cole Verlaine, stood tall among the crowd, his sharp blue eyes scanning the party, a glass in hand. His dark, wavy hair was kept short, and his striking features gave him an...
“Yenson,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she reached out to touch the glass.
The name hung in the air, both familiar and foreign to Melody’s lips. Her fingertips barely grazed the cold surface of the mirror, and suddenly, the world around her dissolved. The basement’s dim light flickered out, replaced by the warm glow of a sunset reflecting off the surface of a quiet lake. A breeze carried the scent of lavender and grass, the soft rustling of leaves filling the silence.
Melody blinked. She was no longer herself—no longer in her own time.
Madeleine.
The name surfaced in her mind like an echo, and as she glanced down, she saw the intricate lace of the wedding gown brushing the ground beneath her. Ivory and detailed with delicate embroidery, it felt heavy and tight against her chest, a symbol of status and expectation. The lake stretched out in front of her, serene and timeless, but there was tension in the air, a sense of something unresolved.
Madeleine’s breath hitched as she turned toward the gathering near the white tent where guests were mingling. Laughter and clinking glasses floated through the warm evening air, but her heart was elsewhere. Her husband, Cole Verlaine, stood tall among the crowd, his sharp blue eyes scanning the party, a glass in hand. His dark, wavy hair was kept short, and his striking features gave him an...
