The transition from the warm, dimly lit streets of 1965 back to the cold, sterile light of her attic was jarring. Ella blinked, momentarily disoriented as the familiar clutter of her present-day life came into focus. The diary lay open in her lap, the brass key still clutched tightly in her hand. She was home—or at least, in the time she was supposed to belong to.
But everything felt wrong.
The buzzing of her phone broke the silence, a stark reminder of the reality she had momentarily escaped. Ella picked it up, her eyes scanning the screen without really seeing it. It was a message from Maya: *"Let's do a video call tonight? I'm dying of boredom!"*
Ella hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. A part of her wanted to connect with her friend, to lose herself in the easy, familiar banter that had been a lifeline during the endless days of lockdown. But another part—a larger, louder part—felt utterly disconnected from the present. Her mind was still back in that park, the warmth of William's hand on hers, the sound of his voice filling her with a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in years.
*"Maybe later,"* she typed back mechanically, pressing send before she could change her mind.
Ella's room felt suffocating now, the walls pressing in on her with every passing minute. She walked over to the window, pulling back the curtain to stare out at the empty streets below. The world outside was silent, a ghost town in the grip of a pandemic. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant life she had seen just hours—or was it decades?—ago. The sights, the sounds, the energy of 1965 still lingered in her mind, as vivid as if she were still there.
And then there was William.
She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool glass as memories of their time together flooded her senses. The way he had looked at her, his gaze filled with warmth and something deeper that she dared not name. The way he had spoken to her, as if every word mattered, as if she mattered. And the way his touch had sent sparks of electricity through her, making her feel alive in a way she hadn't in so long.
Ella's hand drifted to her cheek, where she could still feel the ghost of his kiss, a fleeting brush of lips that had left her breathless. She had tried to tell herself it was nothing—a simple gesture of affection, common in his time—but deep down, she knew it was more. The connection she had felt with William was real, tangible, and it scared her.
How could she have developed such strong feelings for someone in so little time? And how could she possibly reconcile those feelings with the life she had here, in the present?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the floorboards outside her room. Ella quickly wiped her eyes and turned to see Ryan peeking through the doorway, his expression curious.
"What's up, Ella?" he asked, stepping into the room. "You've been up here for a while."
Ella forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice the turmoil in her eyes. "Just… thinking," she said, her voice softer than she intended.
Ryan frowned, clearly not satisfied with her answer. "Are you okay? You seem… different."
Different. The word struck a chord within her. Of course she was different. How could she not be, after what she had just experienced? But how could she explain that to Ryan? How could she explain it to anyone?
"I'm fine," she said, a little too quickly. "Just tired from all the online classes. You know how it is."
Ryan didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah, I get it. This lockdown sucks." He glanced at the diary on her bed. "What's that?"
Ella's heart skipped a beat. She had forgotten she left the diary out in the open. Quickly, she moved to pick it up, clutching it to her chest as if it were a lifeline. "Just an old book I found in the attic. Nothing special."
Ryan eyed the diary suspiciously, but didn't press the issue. "Well, if you need anything, I'm downstairs. Mom's making dinner soon."
"Thanks, Ryan," Ella said, relief flooding her as he turned to leave. "I'll be down in a bit."
As soon as he was gone, Ella let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She looked down at the diary in her hands, its cover worn and weathered, yet somehow full of promise. How had this simple, unassuming book managed to change everything?
She opened it again, her eyes skimming over the familiar handwriting, the strange symbols that had initially intrigued her. Now, those symbols felt like a secret code, one that held the key to everything she was feeling. She traced the words with her fingertips, as if by doing so, she could summon the world she had left behind—the world where William existed.
But she was here, in the present. And William… William was in the past. A past she wasn't sure she could return to without losing herself completely.
Ella closed the diary and set it aside, but the ache in her chest remained. She knew she should be focusing on her life here, her responsibilities, her family. But every thought, every moment was consumed by William. His face, his voice, his touch—all of it haunted her, pulling her back to a time she wasn't supposed to belong to.
*Was this love?* she wondered. Or was it simply an escape, a way to fill the void the lockdown had created in her heart?
The days passed in a blur, each one blending into the next. Ella went through the motions—attending her virtual classes, helping her mother with household chores, trying to stay connected with her friends—but her mind was always elsewhere. Every night, she found herself drawn back to the attic, the diary calling to her like a siren's song. She would open it, read the entries, and imagine herself back in 1965, in that park with William, the rest of the world fading away.
But no matter how much she longed to return, something held her back. A fear, a doubt—she wasn't sure what it was, but it kept her grounded in the present, even as her heart yearned for the past.
Then, one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned a dusky purple, Ella made a decision. She couldn't continue living like this, torn between two worlds, unable to fully commit to either. She needed to find a way to move forward—whether that meant leaving the past behind, or embracing it fully.
She climbed the stairs to the attic, the diary in her hand, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear. She didn't know what she would find, what she would feel, but she knew she had to try.
As she reached the top of the stairs, the attic door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit space that had become her sanctuary. She stepped inside, the air cool and musty, the shadows long and deep. Ella made her way to the small, makeshift seat where she had first discovered the diary, her fingers trembling as she opened it to the page that had started it all.
*"March 15, 1965: Today I discovered something extraordinary…"*
The words blurred before her eyes as she fought back tears. She couldn't stay like this, caught between two times, two lives. She needed to make a choice—a choice that would define not just her present, but her future.
With a deep breath, Ella placed the brass key into the slot on the diary's cover, just as she had done before. The familiar click resonated through the attic, and once again, the air around her began to shimmer.
But this time, as the light enveloped her, Ella's mind was made up. She was going back—to William, to the past. She would find him, she would tell him everything, and together, they would figure out what to do.
The light grew brighter, the sensation of weightlessness returning. Ella's heart raced, not just with fear, but with anticipation. This time, she wasn't just visiting. This time, she was coming back for something more—for love, for a life that had somehow become more real than anything she had known before.
And as the attic faded away, replaced by the sights and sounds of 1965, Ella knew there was no turning back.