Chapter 6 The trick

Eloise sat frozen, heart aching, eyes brimming with tears. Frantically, she searched her phone for answers, most of them confusing—until one article stood out.

She tapped it. A bold heading appeared:

“Understanding the Effects of Time Travel.”

“This is it,” she whispered, reading on.

Time travelers often feel fear and confusion, as if trapped in a vivid dream. That sounded familiar. But the next lines chilled her:

“Time travel can offer second chances, but sometimes it becomes a cruel loop—forcing people to relive trauma and loss.”

Her breath quickened. Hands trembling, she continued.

“Many cases begin with an unjust death—something deeply personal tied to the moment of loss.”

Eloise buried her face in her hands. It was unbelievable—but it explained everything.

“Some mistake dreams for time travel. True travelers relive moments—a chance to change fate.”

‘I'm not crazy, all that truly happened,’ she whimpered and covered her mouth with her palm, realizing, ‘ I'm back in time!’

A remembrance of the reminder alarm ringing after the call from Mason, and it happening again a few minutes ago, hit her.

She stopped sobbing when another realization hit her, and her eyes widened. She jumped to her feet immediately and grabbed her coat and phone before running out of the room.

*******

Mason whistled as he flipped the pancake, the white apron around his neck was stained with flour and some yellowish spots. His heart leaped with joy as he looked across the table, loving the meal he was preparing for Eloise.

‘There's no way she'd eat my food and not lighten up, she had better be happy to be lucky to have me as her husband,’ he giggled as he said in his mind and made to grab the whisk when he heard the loud thuds.

He turned around to see her running outside.

“What happened?” he panicked, but she spared him no glance and just ran out of the house.

“Babe? Eloise!” he shouted and almost went after her in worry and fear, surprised to see her run off like that, but the smoke from the burnt pancake caused him to rush back inside to carry the hot frying pan off the fire with his bare hand.

“Ouch!,” he winced as he was carried away with panick, “ fuck,” he cursed between his teeth.

*****

At Bastion Hospital’s VIP ward, a tall, sharply dressed man stood facing a doctor. The doctor avoided his gaze, clearly nervous.

The man was magnetic—his presence quieted any room. Immaculate suit, straight posture, piercing grey eyes. His face was carved like stone: sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, lashes too long to belong to any man, and lips that were both severe and striking.

“She has about four months left,” the doctor said gently.

The man didn’t flinch.

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t speak.

“Right now she’s stable,” the doctor added. “As long as she sticks to the diet and takes her medication on time.”

The doctor turned to the patient, a grey-haired woman lying weakly in bed.

“Are you in any pain?” he asked her kindly.

“No,” she replied with a tired smile. “I feel okay.”

“That’s great,” he smiled back. But as he turned again to the man, his smile faded. His palms grew sweaty.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said quickly before hurrying out of the room.

The nurses nearby blushed and looked away when the tall man turned. But he didn’t acknowledge them. He only looked back at the woman in bed—his grandmother.

She had been diagnosed with blood cancer six months ago. It was aggressive and eating away at her faster every day.

“Are you really okay, old lady?” he asked, as her personal maid tucked the blanket around her.

“No,” she pouted. “No, I’m not.”

“But the doctor just said—”

“I’m dying, Antonio,” she cut him off. “What part of that sounds okay to you?”

Antonio clenched his jaw. Normally, he didn’t tolerate being interrupted—but not by her. Not by his grandmother.

“The doctor said you’ll be fine—if you keep up with your treatment.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll live. He said four months. Four.” She sighed, then leaned back with a look he recognized all too well.

Here it comes, he thought.

“I’m going to die soon,” she began dramatically, “and you kids are making it impossible for me to go in peace. How can I rest without seeing my grandchild?”

He groaned inwardly.

“We’re your grandchildren,” he muttered.

She glared at him, hard.

“Why not ask Zade?” Antonio added quickly. “He’s surrounded by women. I’m sure he can give you one.”

“Your brother?” she scoffed. “If Zade brings me a baby tomorrow, I’ll assume it’s rented. He’s a woman-chasing fool.”

Then her eyes narrowed.

“And you? You’re the opposite. You avoid women like the plague.”

“I do not,” Antonio said, half-offended. “I like women.”

“Then why have I never seen you with one?”

He shrugged. “I guess not enough to keep them around.”

She began to sob loudly. Antonio rolled his eyes. He knew her theatrics too well.

“All I ever wanted,” she cried, “was to see you happy, with a woman by your side. A daughter-in-law. A grandchild. How am I supposed to die with my heart this worried?”

He was about to roll his eyes again—until something stopped him.

Real tears.

Not the fake ones. Not the wails for show.

Real ones.

His chest tightened. His throat dried up. His fists clenched at his sides. He looked down at his shoes.

Then he said it.

“I’ll get a wife.”

The room went still.

His grandmother and her maid gasped.

“What?” she asked, barely believing him.

“You want a wife,” he said, staring at her. “I’ll get you one.”

She wiped her eyes. “You mean it?”

He nodded, his voice cold and final. “So dry your tears.”

With that, Antonio turned and walked out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, his grandmother and the maid clasped hands and squealed with joy.

“It worked! It actually worked!”