Tangled In Time

Haunted By Choices

16th February 1920

The world around me has grown colder, mirroring the void in my heart that nothing can fill, no matter how hard I try to drown it in the bottom of a bottle. My once steady hand hasn't touched these pages in months, but tonight is different. Tonight, Cecilia is gone, leaving nothing but an empty cottage and a note as her farewell, the last tangible piece of her that remains.

In her note, she explained the tireless, lonely struggle she endured, trying to find a way back to her own time for months. Her resolve is evident, and it appears she has given up seeking my assistance. She wrote of her departure back to 1989, uncertain of what horrors awaited her there, but compelled to leave now that I am married. The weight of her words crushes my heart into a thousand shattered pieces, and I wonder if they will ever find a way to become whole again. Without her presence, time and space themselves seem alien and unfriendly.

I tried to keep a respectful distance from her for my new wife, a frost that was settling long before Cecilia's disappearance, but it didn't last long. I needed to see her and be with her, and she had a way of drawing me closer despite the guilt and inevitable pain we both knew would follow. The chasm between my obligations and my desires was ever widening, and I became a prisoner of my own choices.

The nights have become an unending stretch of darkness, filled with the echoes of my regrets and the torment of unanswerable questions. Every room in this grand house is haunted by the ghostly memories of what once was, and my new wife, though kind and well-intentioned, is a stranger in this place. I am haunted not by her, but by the spectre of Cecilia, who lingers in every corner, on every page of these journals, and in the deepest recesses of my soul. Her absence gnaws at me like a relentless hunger, and I find myself pacing these cold, empty halls, yearning for a presence that can never return.

The weight of her absence is matched only by the weight of my choices. I am a man torn between duty and desire, between a love lost and a love forbidden. The burden of a marriage arranged for the sake of family honour and financial stability has become a noose around my neck, choking the life from me. The choices I've made, and those made for me, have led me to this solitary existence, where every moment is a torment, and every breath is a reminder of what I have lost.

As I pour over these journal entries, all I do is linger over memories of my Cece. I am willing to cause myself pain by reading through and remembering better times with her, knowing that I will never see her again is causing my sanity to wane. All I think of is her in my arms, but I am left with nothing but the cold comfort of these journal entries, a silent testament to a love that defied the boundaries of time and space.

My heart aches, not only for her but for the life that could have been. The life we were meant to share together, a life that has been stolen from us by the relentless march of time.

I lowered the journal, its weight more than physical as the words lingered in my mind. Cecilia's struggles felt uncomfortably familiar—an outsider fighting for a place in a world that wasn't hers, longing for something just out of reach. Her yearning to return home, her sacrifices—they mirrored my own fears and doubts in ways I couldn't ignore.

My gaze shifted to Blake, his features softened in sleep. The usual tension in his face was gone, replaced by a peacefulness that seemed almost fragile. I couldn't bring myself to wake him. Whatever burdens he carried, he needed this rest.

The questions continued to swirl throughout my mind a relentless storm of uncertainty. How had Cecilia managed to return to her own time! How could she only leave a note for Ernest! I lifted my glass of wine to my lips trying not to disturb the sleeping Blake beside me draining the last drop before reaching to put the glass down on the table.
I felt the need to read on it was a pull unlike anything I'd ever felt a yearning to unlock the secrets that hid there. I delicately turned the aged pages keeping my eyes on Blake as they crackled softly in the stillness of the evening the only other sound being the splatter of rain fall against the windows.
My eyes started skimming the pages for the next mention of Cecilia, but I was suddenly interrupted by a faint, almost inaudible murmur from Blake.
His voice softened by sleep murmured my name while his chest rose and fell slowly his hand moved to hold onto my thigh as another sigh escaped his lips a small smile.
My stomach did a flip at the sudden contact and the mention of my name on his sleeping lips. It was as though even in sleep his thoughts were tethered to me.