1. A Mind of Logic, A Night of Whimsy
Anaya Sharma lived in a world of code and logic, where emotions were just variables in an equation and life was meant to be calculated, not felt. She built systems, not dreams. She solved problems, not mysteries.
Love? Love was a distraction.
She had no space in her carefully designed life for romance—let alone something as impossible as time travel.
But that night, the night of the lunar eclipse, everything she knew about reality shattered.
It started with an impulse.
It was already past ten when she left her office, stepping onto the streets of Bengaluru's air carries a crisp, fleeting chill at night, laced with the scent of brewing filter coffee, sizzling street food, and a whisper of rain, always familiar, always restless. The city pulsed with life—, cars honking in frustration, and the ever-present hum of conversation.
Anaya barely noticed.
Her mind was still tangled in lines of code from the AI project she was leading an optimized, high-speed automation tool designed to assign, track, and execute tasks with cold precision. It was just another project, a machine dictating deadlines, streamlining efficiency, and ensuring nothing fell out of place. No emotion, no connection—just logic, execution, and endless lines of code .
It was a project close to her heart, though she rarely admitted why.
She was halfway to her apartment when she felt it.
A strange pull.
Like an invisible thread tugging at her wrist, guiding her to a dimly lit bookstore tucked between two larger buildings.
It had no grand signage, no flashy advertisements—just an old wooden door and a golden plaque above it that read:
"Moonlit Pages—Where Stories Choose Their Readers."
She should have ignored it.
She never went inside places like this—there was no logic in indulging curiosity.
And yet, before she realized what she was doing, she pushed open the door.
2. The Bracelet and the Old Man
The air inside was thick with the scent of aged paper and ink, the kind of fragrance that belonged to stories long forgotten. Dim lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting golden shadows against the bookshelves that stretched endlessly into the darkness.
There was no one inside.
Just silence.
Anaya was about to turn around when something caught her eye.
A bracelet.
It sat inside a glass case, silver gleaming under the soft light. The intricate patterns carved into its surface looked almost celestial—interwoven lines forming a crescent moon motif.
It felt… otherworldly.
"That bracelet is special," a voice cut through the quiet.
Anaya turned sharply.
An elderly man stood behind the counter. His eyes—dark and knowing—twinkled with something she couldn't name. His presence was oddly calming, yet unsettling.
"It connects souls across time," he continued. "Only under the Moon's shadow does its magic awaken."
Anaya raised an eyebrow. Magic? Time travel?
She didn't believe in fairy tales.
"Do people actually fall for that sales pitch?" she asked, crossing her arms.
The old man merely smiled, as if he knew something she didn't. As if he was waiting for her to understand.
She should have left.
But instead, she asked, "How much?"
The price was absurdly low—almost as if the man wanted her to take it.
Curiosity won.
She bought it.
3. A City of Lights and an Omen in the Sky
As she walked back toward her apartment, the streets of Mumbai stretched around her, alive and breathing.
She passed by a row of television shops, where dozens of screens flickered against the night. Bright headlines scrolled across the news channels, catching her attention.
"Tonight marks a rare celestial event—a lunar eclipse that occurs once every ten years."
She paused.
The anchor continued, voice filled with practiced intrigue.
"Many cultures believe that during a blood moon, the fabric of time thins. It is said that those who wear celestial charms on such nights may find themselves touched by fate."
Anaya almost laughed.
Superstition. Myths. Stories passed down through generations, meant to entertain, not to be taken seriously.
And yet…
Her fingers brushed against the bracelet on her wrist.
It felt warm.
As if the metal itself was breathing.
Shaking off the unease creeping into her thoughts, she picked up her pace.
By the time she reached home, exhaustion settled deep into her bones, but her mind refused to rest.
She needed a break.
Something to clear her head before diving back into work.
Instead of heading to her desk, she climbed the narrow staircase leading to the rooftop of her apartment.
The city stretched below her in a sea of shimmering lights, a stark contrast to the sky above—where the moon hung low, bathed in an ominous red hue.
The eclipse had begun.
She exhaled slowly, letting the night air cool her skin.
Then—her bracelet pulsed.
A gentle hum vibrated against her wrist.
She frowned, lifting her arm to inspect the metal under the moonlight.
It was glowing.
A soft, silvery light radiated from the patterns, weaving through the crescent moon engraving as if it were alive.
Anaya's heart stumbled.
This isn't possible.
She took a step back, suddenly unsteady.
And then—a gust of wind roared through the rooftop.
The city below seemed to fade for a moment, the honking cars, the distant voices, the hum of life—all drowned by a strange, deafening silence.
A force pulled at her chest, invisible yet undeniable.
The bracelet burned against her skin.
Panic flared in her chest. She turned to run—
But the moment her foot touched the stairway—
Everything shifted.
4. A Stranger in Her Living Room
The air felt heavier when she stepped back inside her apartment.
Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs as she locked the door behind her, half-expecting something—someone—to be standing in the shadows.
She shook her head.
She was being ridiculous.
This was just a trick of the mind. Too much work, too much stress.
She turned toward her desk, ready to drown herself in something logical, something tangible.
But then—she saw him.
A man stood in her living room.
Tall, barefoot, disoriented. His dark eyes darted around, taking in the modern surroundings with an expression of utter confusion.
His clothes were strange. A slightly worn-out T-shirt, a jacket too outdated for this year's trends, jeans that looked at least a decade old.
He looked like he had stepped out of another world.
Or another time.
Her breath hitched.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, gripping a PHONE CHARGER as a weapon. heart racing.
The man turned his gaze to her. His eyes—deep, dark, and unreadable—locked onto hers.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Anaya's fingers tightened around the charger she was holding .
"You're in my apartment, and you're trespassing."
He looked at her, bewildered. Then—his gaze fell on her wrist.
"The bracelet," he whispered.
Something flickered in his expression—recognition.
He took a slow step forward.
Anaya grabbed the nearest object—a book—and hurled it at him.
"Hey—!"
"Don't come any closer!" she snapped.
The man raised his hands in surrender, his expression raw with disbelief.
"I swear, I'm just as confused as you are."
Then, after a long pause, he finally said—
"My name is Arjun Mehta."
A name from the past.
A name that shouldn't exist here.
And yet, as the lunar eclipse continued to cast its shadow over the city, Anaya knew—
Nothing would ever be the same again.