─═✧✧═─ 𝔽𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝟙𝟡𝟙𝟚 ─═✧✧═─

The Fragile Bridge

For a long moment, neither Mia nor Henry spoke, both absorbing the impossible reality before them. Mia's mind swirled with awe and disbelief—she was standing in a world over a hundred years before her own. The warm air of 1912 surrounded her, rich with the smell of ink and the soft sounds of life outside the window.

"I can't believe this," Henry finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're actually here... from the future."

Mia's heart raced. "I am. But... we don't know how long this will last. We've crossed the threshold, but Jonathan's notes never said if it was permanent."

Henry frowned slightly, nodding as he looked around his study. "You're right. This connection—it feels delicate. Like it could fade any moment."

Mia's pulse quickened as she looked around the room, trying to take it all in while she could. "There's so much I want to ask. So much I want to know about your world, your life."

Henry smiled faintly, watching her with a soft curiosity. "And I am about yours. But if we only have a little time, we need to make it count."

She nodded. "We need to understand how this works and why it's happening. Jonathan's machine, the Resonator—it's connecting our times, but we need to find out how to control it."

Henry moved to his desk, pulling out Jonathan's letters and journals, now familiar to Mia after all her research. He spread them across the desk, glancing at her. "Let's start with Jonathan's final entries. He must have come close to making this breakthrough himself."

Together, they poured over Jonathan's notes, searching for any clue to stabilise the connection or extend it. Henry read aloud as Mia compared it to the notes she had studied back in her time.

"'The Resonator,'" Henry read from one entry, "'is capable of crossing the boundaries of time, but requires not just a synchronous frequency, but also an emotional link between the two individuals connected by the device. The stronger the bond, the more stable the connection.'"

Mia looked up, her eyes meeting Henry's. "An emotional link? Like a personal connection between us?"

Henry's brow furrowed. "It seems so. Jonathan believed that time itself was more flexible when the individuals involved had a strong emotional tie. That connection might be why we've been able to speak and see each other. But physical contact... maybe it requires something more."

Mia felt her heart race again, realising that their ability to bridge time went beyond the technical—there was something about *them*, specifically, that made it work. "Do you think that's why you called me instead of your friend? Because we... felt this connection?"

Henry nodded slowly. "I think so. There's something between us—something that drew our worlds together."

A blush crept up Mia's cheeks, and she quickly changed the subject. "So if that's true, then the stronger the connection, the longer we could stay in each other's time. But how do we make sure it lasts?"

Before Henry could answer, a faint, pulsing hum filled the room. Mia and Henry exchanged a worried glance, and Mia turned toward the source of the sound. The watch—the one that had bridged their worlds—was glowing softly, pulsing in time with the Resonator's energy.

Henry's face paled slightly. "I think the connection is weakening."

Mia's breath caught in her throat. "Already?"

They watched as the watch's glow flickered, dimming with each pulse. The hum of the Resonator began to grow softer, like a heartbeat slowing down. Mia felt a sense of urgency building in her chest—she didn't want this to end yet.

"We need to reinforce the connection," Mia said, her voice tinged with panic. "There has to be a way."

Henry grabbed her hand without thinking, his touch warm and solid. "There must be something in the notes—something we've missed."

Mia scanned the page again, desperate for an answer. Then, at the bottom of the final entry, she saw it: *"The key to stability lies in mutual intent. A shared desire to remain connected across time strengthens the link. Without it, the bond will inevitably weaken and collapse."*

"Mutual intent," she whispered, her eyes wide. "We both need to want this—to stay connected, to stay together."

Henry's grip tightened on her hand. "I want this, Mia. I want to keep this connection alive."

Mia's heart pounded in her chest as she met his gaze. She realised, in that moment, that she wanted the same thing—more than anything, she didn't want this fragile bridge between them to fade.

"I want this too," she said softly. "I want to stay connected with you, Henry."

The air between them seemed to hum with energy, and the watch, which had been flickering, suddenly steadied. The pulsing light grew stronger, the Resonator's hum rising again. Mia felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was quickly tempered by the realisation that this was only temporary.

The connection was holding for now, but it was still fragile.

"Mia," Henry said, his voice low and serious, "I don't know how long we can keep this up. The connection might be stronger for now, but the machine can't sustain it forever."

"I know," Mia replied, her voice trembling slightly. "We need to find a way to make it permanent."

Henry looked down at the notes, shaking his head slightly. "Jonathan never got that far. He believed that the emotional connection was crucial, but he never found a way to stabilise it indefinitely."

Mia's heart sank, but she refused to give up. "We're missing something—there's got to be another way."

Henry looked at her, his expression softening. "Even if we can't make this permanent, even if this is temporary... I'm glad we had this moment. That we met."

Mia's throat tightened, emotions swirling inside her. "Me too."

The room grew quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the Resonator and the faint ticking of the watch. They stood there for a long moment, hand in hand, both knowing that time was slipping away from them.

Finally, Henry spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "Mia, if this is the only time we have... I want you to know that I've never felt a connection like this before. Across time or otherwise."

Mia's heart ached with the weight of his words. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, the room seemed to shift again. The light began to dim, and the air grew colder. The watch pulsed once more, flickered, and then went dark.

"No!" Mia cried, gripping Henry's hand tighter.

But it was too late. The Resonator's hum died, and the shimmering air that had connected their worlds began to fade. Henry's image grew fainter, his hand slipping from hers as if he were being pulled away.

"Mia!" Henry called, his voice distant.

"Henry!" she cried, her heart pounding as she reached for him.

But the room was dissolving around her, and before she knew it, the world of 1912 vanished completely.

Mia found herself standing alone in the attic, her hand outstretched, the silence deafening. The watch lay still on the Resonator, its glow completely gone. The machine was silent. The connection was broken.

Tears welled in her eyes as she sank to her knees, her heart aching with the sudden emptiness. Henry was gone, and she was back in her own time.

But as she sat there, staring at the stillness of the Resonator, one thought echoed in her mind: This isn't the end.

There had to be a way to reconnect. And she would find it.