Between Now and Never

For the past two years, I've had a time-traveling love story swirling in my mind, its complexities and emotional depth refusing to leave me. Now, as I set Max from No Rest for the Wicked aside for the next couple of weeks, I see this as the perfect opportunity to explore some of my half-baked ideas and share them on my website. Perhaps by putting these scattered thoughts into words, I can uncover the essence of what makes this story resonate with me and determine if it's worth pursuing further in the future.

She woke to the scent of jasmine and the distant murmur of a river.

For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, her mind sluggish, clinging to the edges of a dream she couldn’t quite recall. The bed beneath her was softer than she expected, the sheets smooth but slightly coarse - linen, not the crisp synthetic fabrics she was used to. Somewhere nearby, the breeze carried the faint sound of birdsong, mingling with the rustling of leaves.

And then, a second sound.

A voice.

A man’s voice, deep and steady, speaking in low, measured tones just beyond the open window.

Her breath hitched, and her eyes flew open.

The ceiling above her was dark wood, crisscrossed with ancient beams. Sunlight streamed in through the tall, arched windows, their glass uneven, warped by time. The walls were thick stone, whitewashed but cracked with age, and the air was warm, carrying the faintest scent of sun-baked earth and something sweet—grapes, perhaps, or citrus.

This wasn’t her bedroom.

A slow ripple of unease crept over her as she sat up, the heavy blankets pooling around her waist. The room was modest but elegant, furnished with a carved wooden wardrobe and a small writing desk tucked beside the window. A terra cotta pitcher of water rested on the nightstand, next to a basin. And across the room, draped over the back of a delicate, embroidered chair…

Clothing.

Her stomach twisted.

A cream-colored gown, long and flowing, made from a fine muslin fabric. Stockings, a corset, delicate leather slippers.

Not hers.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching cool stone. Everything about this place felt both familiar and impossibly foreign. The warm air. The scent of citrus blossoms drifting through the open window. The distant, rhythmic sound of horse hooves on packed dirt.

She turned slowly, taking in every detail, her pulse quickening.

The last thing she remembered…

She frowned.

What was the last thing she remembered?

A city, maybe? But not like this. Something more modern, full of steel and glass. A mission. An investigation. A chase.

And then…

A sharp pain behind her eyes made her gasp, and for a split second, a fragmented memory surfaced.

Wires. Machines. A voice crackling through a communicator.

Something’s wrong.

The dizziness passed, but the uneasy feeling remained.

From outside, the man’s voice came again, a little closer this time.

She moved carefully toward the window, pressing her palm against the sun-warmed frame as she peered outside.

Rolling hills stretched beyond the villa, golden fields fading into deep green vineyards. A small stone courtyard lay just below, framed by ivy-covered walls, and near the gate stood two men. One was older, his posture stiff, his hands folded behind his back as he listened. But it was the other man who made her breath catch.

He was tall, dark-haired, his features sharp and striking beneath the morning sun.

And she knew him.

A flicker of recognition stirred deep in her chest, something instinctive, something beyond logic.

She didn’t know how. She didn’t know why.

But she knew him.

And yet…

He was not her husband. At least, not the husband she remembered.

A rush of panic clawed at her throat.

This wasn’t right.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

She was from somewhere else - somewhen else.

Her hands curled into fists against the windowsill as flashes of memory tried to surface, slipping away before she could fully grasp them. Her name. Her real life. The reason she had been sent here.

The mission.

There had been a mission. A man she had been chasing. A stolen artifact.

And then…

Then what?

A chill ran down her spine.

Something had gone wrong.

Because what she didn’t know - what she couldn’t yet remember - was that somewhere, far away in a future she no longer recalled, her body lay unmoving, trapped in a limbo between life and death.

The machine had failed. The mission had failed.

And now, she was slipping through time like a ghost, each jump unraveling her memories, her identity.

And the only person who might be able to bring her back…

Was standing outside.

But in this time, in this life, did he even know her?

Or was he the very reason she had been sent here in the first place?