Claire sat on the edge of their bed, her fingers massaging her temples. The headache had crept up on her, a relentless throb that pulsed in sync with her heartbeat. She glanced at the clock—past midnight. Henry was out there somewhere, slipping through time, and she couldn't shake the worry that clung to her like a shadow.
Henry, her enigmatic husband, was a time traveler. His disorder, known as Chrono Displacement Disorder, had woven their lives into a tapestry of unpredictable moments. When he vanished, he left behind empty spaces—empty rooms, empty conversations, and an empty bed.
She remembered the first time she witnessed his time-traveling episode. They were in their tiny apartment, Henry laughing as he recounted a story from his childhood. And then, without warning, he vanished. His clothes remained, neatly folded on the couch, but Henry was gone. Claire had panicked, her heart racing, until he reappeared minutes later, disoriented and pale.
"Are you okay?" she'd asked, brushing her fingers against his cheek.
He'd smiled, that crooked grin she loved. "Just a little dizzy. Time travel does that."
Claire had learned to live with it—the sudden disappearances, the unexplained absences. But tonight, the headache gnawed at her patience. She wondered if it was a side effect of loving a man who danced through time like a ghost.
The bedroom door creaked open, and there he was—Henry, disheveled and weary. His eyes met hers, and she saw the guilt etched there. He'd been gone for days this time, lost in some distant era. She wanted to scold him, to demand answers, but the pain in her head silenced her.
"Hey," he whispered, crossing the room to sit beside her. "How are you feeling?"
Claire leaned into his warmth. "Headache. It's like my brain is unraveling."
He traced circles on her back. "I'm sorry, Claire. I wish I could control it better."
She sighed. "Why do you do it, Henry? Why risk everything just to jump through time?"
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Because I want to be with you. In every moment, across every era. Our love defies time itself."
Claire rested her head on his shoulder. "But it's hard, Henry. The waiting, the uncertainty."
He kissed her forehead. "I know. But when I'm out there, I see our future. Our daughter, Alba, growing up. Our laughter echoing through centuries."
"And what about now?" Claire asked. "What about this moment?"
Henry cupped her face, wiping away a tear. "This moment is everything. I ache for you when I'm away, Claire. But when I return, it's like coming home."
She closed her eyes, feeling the ebb and flow of time around them. "Promise me, Henry. Promise that you'll always find your way back."
His lips brushed against hers. "Always."
And in that fragile space between past and present, they held each other—their love transcending the boundaries of time. Claire's headache faded, replaced by the warmth of Henry's touch. For now, they were together, and that was enough.
