A Promise Across Time [Completed]

The Cousin From London

November 1964
Sweden

***RAVEN

Frida's birthday was approaching fast, and I once again found myself enlisting Grandma Arntine's help to pull off another surprise celebration. The last one had been a success, and I was determined to outdo myself this time. Frida, of course, had no clue. As usual, she was completely absorbed in preparing for the upcoming music contest. It had been almost two months since I sang her an ABBA song from the 21st century, and ever since, she'd been captivated by it—trying to recreate or modify it, blending her own style into the melody.

She was always so determined, so driven. And while I knew she wouldn't win this contest—her real time to shine would be in 1967 when she would gain national fame—I couldn't help but admire her tenacity. After all, there was no harm in trying, right? Who knew? Maybe I had already changed the course of her future just by being here. If I had, perhaps this contest would be her breakthrough. But I knew deep down that her destiny, as it originally stood, was far greater.

I just had to make sure she didn't do anything reckless before she met Benny. That meeting was crucial. It set her on the path to everything she would later achieve, and I couldn't let anything interfere with that moment. Not even a music contest.

While we were cutting ribbons for the decorations, Grandma Arntine looked at me with that piercing gaze of hers, the one that always seemed to know more than she let on. She paused, scissors in hand, and asked softly, "How is Frida faring in the year 2024, Raven?"

I swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. I didn't want to lie to her—Grandma Arntine had been nothing but kind and understanding since I arrived here, and I felt like I owed her the truth. But how much of the future could I reveal without disrupting everything?

"Well..." I began, trying to find the right words. "Frida is 79 years old in my time. Alive and well. She's an epitome of elegance and sophistication. You'd be proud of her, Grandma."

Grandma Arntine's eyes softened, and she smiled gently. "I can only imagine. And what has she done with her life?"

I hesitated, almost letting slip that Frida was something of a princess in the future, but I held back. That detail, though heartwarming, was far too specific and could lead to questions I wasn't ready to answer. Instead, I focused on the parts that wouldn't disrupt the timeline.

"She became a global icon. Not just for her voice or her music, but for her grace and strength. People look up to her, admire her resilience. She's lived through a lot—ups and downs—but she's still standing. She's still performing, still inspiring people with her music. And... she never lost her love for singing."

Grandma Arntine's smile grew, and she nodded as if she had expected nothing less. "She was always meant for greatness. Even when she was just a little girl, I knew she was destined for something extraordinary."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "You're right. She's extraordinary in every way."

We continued cutting the ribbons in comfortable silence, the weight of the future resting quietly between us. I could feel Grandma Arntine's unspoken curiosity, but she didn't press me for more details. She was wise enough to know that some things were better left unsaid.

But as we worked, my thoughts drifted back to the contest. Frida's excitement had been building for weeks, and I could see how much it meant to her to perform. She didn't know that this wasn't her moment to shine—not yet. Her true moment would come in 1967, when she would catapult into national fame. But I couldn't help wondering: What if I had already changed the course of her future just by being here? What if, by some twist of fate, she could win this contest? Would that derail her path to stardom, or would it simply be another stepping stone on her journey?