After returning to the lighthouse from the underwater cave, Jack immediately began studying the device left by "Joseph." He carefully took apart his pocket watch, comparing the two mechanisms, trying to understand the function of this mysterious component. I passed him tools and helped record observations, but deep down, a storm was brewing.
Too many secrets and discoveries—Jack's hidden notes, my experience of time overlapping, the visions in the underwater cave, and now this device left by Jack from the past (or perhaps the future?). All these pieces seemed to point toward the same conclusion, but I still couldn't fully accept what it meant.
Night fell, and we ate a simple dinner in the kitchen on the middle floor of the lighthouse. Jack was unusually quiet, occasionally glancing out of the window, as if calculating our remaining time. Tomorrow would be September 21st, the day when everything would change.
"I want to try fitting this component," Jack finally said after dinner, his fingers gently tracing the metal device. "But I'm worried that if I make a mistake, I might damage the watch."
I took a deep breath, knowing it was time. "Jack, before you do anything, there are some things I need to tell you."
He looked up, his eyes full of questions.
"I know you've been keeping something from me," I began, my voice steadier than I'd expected, "about what you've foreseen for September 21st, about how you knew I would arrive even before I got here."
Jack's expression shifted from surprise to understanding, then to a kind of relief. "You read my notebook." Not a question, but a statement.
I nodded. "A few days ago, when you went into town. I didn't mean to pry, but when I saw my name written there..."
"I understand," he said softly, without a trace of reproach. "If I'm honest, it's rather a relief. Keeping this secret has been... rather difficult."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, though I'd already guessed the answer.
Jack stood up, walked to the window, and watched the lighthouse beam slice through the darkness. "At first, because I wasn't certain. Dreams and premonitions can be misleading, and I didn't want to fill your head with notions that might be wrong. Later, when I became more convinced, I worried that if you knew what might happen to me, you'd try to change it, perhaps bringing worse consequences."
"Just as you wrote in your notes—time tends to heal itself," I said.
"Yes. History has a certain stubbornness about it, Ella. Trying to fight against it might lead to greater calamities."
"But finding the underwater cave changed things, didn't it?" I stood up and joined him by the window. "If you're really going to travel to 1826, rather than perish in the lighthouse accident, if 'Joseph' truly found a way to return home..."
"Then perhaps fate isn't as fixed as I believed," Jack admitted, turning to face me. "Perhaps there are more possibilities than I thought."
Our eyes met in the dim light, each of us seeing both hope and fear reflected in the other.
"I have something to tell you as well," I said quietly, then described my experience of time overlapping—seeing glimpses of 2025 from the top of the lighthouse, and that young man holding a pocket watch.
Jack listened intently, his forehead sometimes creasing, sometimes smoothing out. "Who do you think that person might be?" he finally asked.
"I'm not certain," I answered truthfully. "He looked like you, but younger, living in 2025. Perhaps... a future version of you? Or someone connected to you somehow?"
This possibility hung in the air between us, both thrilling and troubling. If that young man was truly linked to Jack, what would it mean? Would Jack eventually return to the future? Or would the timelines somehow merge together?
"And those visions in the underwater cave," Jack murmured, "Two people bathed in blue light, then only one remaining. What might that suggest?"
We fell silent for a moment, each considering this weighty question. Finally, I gathered my courage to ask what we'd both been avoiding: "If tomorrow you really are sent to 1826, would you want that to happen?"
Jack's expression grew complex. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "On one hand, my entire life is in this era—my duties, my family, the lighthouse. But on the other hand..." his gaze met mine directly, "since you appeared, I've begun to imagine different possibilities. Not just as a lighthouse keeper, but... something more."
His words made my heart quicken. "I feel the same," I admitted softly. "Since coming here, despite missing my life in 2025, I've found myself less eager to return with each passing day. Especially..."
"Especially what?" Jack asked gently, stepping closer.
"Especially since meeting you," I finally confessed, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "I don't know if this is madness, given our situation, but I've never felt this connection with anyone before. It's as though..."
"As though our souls recognized each other," Jack finished my thought, certainty in his voice, "across the boundaries of time itself."
He reached out, gently touching my cheek, and I closed my eyes, savoring the contact. When I opened them again, the emotion in his eyes was so clear, so genuine, that all doubts simply melted away.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," I said firmly, "I won't let you face it alone. If you're sent to 1826, I'll find a way to follow you. If there's a way back home, we'll discover it together."
"But your era, your life..." Jack began.
"Time has taught me something," I interrupted him. "Home isn't necessarily a particular moment or place, but a feeling, a sense of belonging. And now, for me, home is wherever I am with you, whether that's 1825, 1925, or 2025."
Jack's eyes shimmered with something I'd never seen before. He carefully drew me closer, our foreheads touching. "Then we shall face tomorrow together," he said softly, "not merely as victims of time's fracture, but as people who choose their own destiny."
In that moment, despite the dangers and uncertainties still looming ahead, a strange calm settled over my heart. The truth hadn't driven us apart; it had brought us closer, giving us a curious strength—facing fate, we were no longer alone.
We returned to the workbench, studying "Joseph's" device together. As night deepened, we gradually understood its function—it not only amplified the pocket watch's energy but could also, to some extent, guide the direction of the crossing.
"I think I understand it now," Jack suddenly announced in the early hours, his eyes bright with excitement. "This device is like a compass, but instead of pointing north, it points to specific moments in time. 'Joseph'—my future self—designed it to locate three time points: 1826, 1925, and 2025."
"Does that mean we can choose which era to travel to?" I asked, astonished.
"In theory, yes, but it requires two pocket watches activated simultaneously," Jack explained. "Just as the letter stated, 'Two pocket watches activated together, two points in time instantly connected, the choice must be made in a fleeting moment'."
I clutched the pocket watch at my chest, feeling its faint pulse. "That's why my grandmother was able to return to her era, because she had one pocket watch, and you had the other."
Jack nodded, his expression growing determined. "Tomorrow at 5:47 PM, the time rift will reach its peak. At that moment, we may not just be victims of fate, but shapers of our own destiny."
Outside, the first light of dawn began to chase away the darkness. September 21st had arrived, and in the next twelve hours, our fate would be decided—not just by time and history, but by our own choices and resolve.
Whatever awaited us, at least we no longer concealed the truth, no longer feared alone. We would face it together, as equal partners, as kindred spirits across time and space, and perhaps, as each other's true destination.