May 14th - Tuesday, 4:47 PM
The hospital smells like antiseptic and fear.
We burst through the emergency room doors, Satomi leading the way, all of us out of breath from running. The fluorescent lights are too bright. The walls are too white. Everything feels sterile and wrong and terrifying.
"Ren Takahashi," Satomi gasps to the receptionist. "He was brought in—a car accident—his mom called me—"
"Relation to the patient?"
"I'm—we're friends. Please, is he okay?"
The receptionist's expression is professionally neutral. "The family is in the waiting area. Third floor, room 304."
We take the stairs because waiting for an elevator feels impossible. My heart is pounding, and it's not just from the running. It's from the memories flooding back—of dying on a sidewalk, of pain and blood and darkness. Of how fragile life is. How quickly everything can change.
Not Ren. Please, not Ren.
The waiting area on the third floor is small and cramped. Ren's mother is there, sitting in a plastic chair, her face in her hands. She looks up when we arrive, and I can see the fear in her eyes.
"Mrs. Takahashi," Satomi says, rushing over. "How is he?"
"He's in surgery. They said—" Her voice breaks. "He was hit by a car. Crosswalk, the driver wasn't paying attention. Just like—" She stops, looking at us. "Just like what almost happened to you, Akari."
Akari goes pale. I reach out instinctively, steadying her.
"Is he going to be okay?" she asks quietly.
"They don't know yet. He has internal injuries, a concussion. They said the next few hours are critical."
Critical. The word hangs in the air like a threat.
We sit down to wait. Satomi next to Mrs. Takahashi, offering what comfort she can. Akari between us, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Me on the end, trying to process this, trying not to spiral.
A car accident. Crosswalk. Driver not paying attention.
Just like March 14th. Just like the loop.
Is this happening because I broke free? Is this the universe's way of balancing the scales—I got to live, so someone else has to suffer?
No. That's not how it works. That's not—
"Yuuki?" Akari's voice is small, scared. "You're shaking."
I look down. She's right. My hands are trembling.
"Sorry. I just—" I can't finish the sentence. Can't explain the panic rising in my chest, the memories of dying, the fear that this is somehow my fault.
She takes my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. "It's going to be okay. Ren's strong. He'll get through this."
I want to believe her. Want to have her certainty, her hope.
But I've died before. I know how quickly hope can be extinguished.
6:23 PM
The surgeon finally emerges, still in scrubs. We all stand immediately.
"Mrs. Takahashi? Your son is out of surgery. It went well. We were able to repair the internal bleeding, and while he has a severe concussion, there's no permanent brain damage as far as we can tell."
The relief is palpable. Mrs. Takahashi starts crying. Satomi hugs her. Akari's grip on my hand tightens.
"He's going to be okay?" Satomi asks.
"He'll need to stay in the hospital for observation, and recovery will take time. But yes, barring complications, he should make a full recovery."
Full recovery. He's going to be okay.
The tension that's been coiled in my chest since we got the call finally loosens. I can breathe again.
"Can we see him?" Mrs. Takahashi asks.
"He's in recovery now, still sedated. Give it another hour or two, then you can visit briefly. Only family for tonight, but friends can come tomorrow."
We thank the surgeon profusely. Mrs. Takahashi excuses herself to call Ren's father. And suddenly it's just the three of us in the waiting area, the adrenaline crash hitting all at once.
Satomi collapses into a chair. "Oh my god. I thought—when his mom called, I thought—"
"I know," Akari says gently, sitting beside her. "But he's okay. He's going to be okay."
"I was so scared." Satomi's voice is barely a whisper. "I've known Ren since we were kids. If something happened to him, I don't know what I'd—" She stops, wiping at her eyes. "God, I'm a mess."
"You're allowed to be a mess," I say, surprising myself by speaking. "He's important to you. It's okay to be scared."
Satomi looks at me, her expression raw. "You get it, don't you? That feeling. Like someone could just... disappear. And you'd be powerless to stop it."
Yeah. I get it more than she knows.
"I get it," I say quietly.
We sit in silence for a while. Waiting. Processing. Grateful that the worst didn't happen but shaken by how close it came.
Eventually, Mrs. Takahashi returns and insists we go home. She'll stay with Ren tonight, and we can visit tomorrow after school.
We don't want to leave. But we're not family, and hospital rules are strict.
So we leave. Step out into the evening air that feels too normal, too unchanged, when everything inside the hospital is chaos and fear.
"I'll take Satomi home," Akari says, her arm around our friend's shoulders. "You okay to get back on your own, Yuuki?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Text me when you get home? Please?"
"I will."
She gives me a long look—one that says we're not done, that the conversation we were about to have on the roof is still pending, that this isn't over.
Then she guides Satomi toward the station, and I'm left standing alone outside the hospital.
The same hospital where I died in loop one.
The building where paramedics brought me after the car hit me, where Akari held my hand and asked my name, where I took my last breath before the reset.
I've been avoiding this place. Haven't come anywhere near it since the loops broke.
But here I am. Full circle.
And all I can think is: Ren survived. He's going to be okay.
Unlike me, in that first timeline. Unlike the version of myself that didn't make it.
But he made it. We made it.
Forward is still possible.
9:47 PM
I can't sleep.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day. The panic. The running. The waiting. The relief when the surgeon said Ren would be okay.
And underneath it all, the persistent thought:
I was about to tell her.
On the roof, before Satomi interrupted, I was about to tell Akari everything. About the loops, the resets, the eighteen days that only I remember.
And now? Now the moment is gone. Interrupted by crisis, by fear, by life intervening.
Is that a sign? Should I take it as a warning that I'm not supposed to tell her?
Or is it just bad timing?
My phone buzzes.
Akari: you still awake?
Me: Yeah. Can't sleep.
Akari: me neither. keep thinking about ren. about how fast things can change.
Me: Yeah.
Akari: can i call you?
Me: Sure.
My phone rings immediately. I answer.
"Hi," she says, and her voice is tired, strained.
"Hi. You okay?"
"Not really. Satomi is a mess. I stayed with her for a while, made sure she ate something, but she's barely holding it together." There's a pause. "I'm not doing much better, honestly."
"It's scary. Seeing someone you care about hurt."
"Yeah." Another pause. "Yuuki... on the roof. Before all this happened. You were about to tell me something."
My heart rate picks up. "I was."
"Is it still something you want to tell me? Or did the moment pass?"
Did it pass? Can I still do this? Should I?
"I want to tell you," I say carefully. "But maybe not over the phone. It's... it's complicated."
"Okay. Tomorrow then? After we visit Ren?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She's quiet for a moment, and I can hear her breathing, steady and familiar even through the phone.
"Yuuki?" she says finally. "Today reminded me how fragile everything is. How quickly we can lose people. And I don't want to waste time, you know? I don't want to leave things unsaid."
"What do you want to say?"
"That you're important to me. That whatever this thing is between us—friendship or something more—it matters. You matter." She takes a breath. "And that I'm scared. Of losing you. Of losing anyone. Of letting people in and then having them disappear."
"I'm not going anywhere," I say, and I mean it. "I promise. I'm not disappearing."
"You can't promise that. Nobody can."
"Then I promise I'll fight to stay. That I won't leave by choice. That as long as I have a say, I'm here."
"Okay," she whispers. "Okay. I believe you."
We talk for another hour. About nothing and everything. About Ren, about fear, about the ways we try to protect ourselves from pain and how it never really works.
And when we finally hang up, I lie in bed feeling both terrified and certain.
Tomorrow, I tell her.
Tomorrow, she learns the truth.
And whatever happens after that... we'll face it together.
May 15th - Wednesday, 3:45 PM
Ren is awake when we visit after school.
He looks terrible—bruised, bandaged, hooked up to machines—but he's awake and alert and making jokes about how the hospital food is somehow worse than the cafeteria.
"You scared us," Satomi says, trying to sound stern but failing completely. Her eyes are red from crying.
"Sorry about that. Didn't mean to be dramatic."
"You got hit by a car. That's pretty dramatic."
"Fair point." He winces as he shifts in the bed. "Doctor says I'll be here for a few more days, then home for a couple weeks. So I'm missing exams."
"Silver lining?" Akari offers weakly.
"Definitely silver lining."
We spend an hour with him, keeping the conversation light, trying not to focus on how fragile he looks or how close we came to losing him. But the awareness is there, hovering in the background of every joke, every laugh.
When visiting hours are over and we have to leave, Satomi lingers by Ren's bedside.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says, and there's something in her voice. Something raw and honest.
"Yeah. Tomorrow." He reaches out, takes her hand. "Hey. I'm okay. I promise."
"You better be."
"Wouldn't dare be otherwise."
She squeezes his hand once, then lets go, and we head out.
In the hallway, Akari and I hang back, letting Satomi walk ahead.
"They're definitely going to figure it out now," Akari murmurs.
"Figure what out?"
"That they're in love. Near-death experiences have a way of clarifying things."
Love. The word again. Always coming back to love.
"Yeah," I agree. "They probably will."
She glances at me, and there's a question in her eyes. About us. About what we are, what we're becoming.
But she doesn't ask. Not yet.
"So," she says instead. "You promised me a conversation."
"I did."
"And it's important."
"Very."
"Okay." She takes a breath. "Where do you want to do this?"
"Somewhere private. Somewhere we won't be interrupted."
"My house? My parents are working late."
A house. Private. Just the two of us.
It's perfect. And terrifying.
"Okay," I say. "Your house."
5:23 PM
Akari's house is small but cozy. Lived-in. The kind of place that feels like a home, with photos on the walls and plants in the windows and the faint smell of whatever her mom cooked last night lingering in the air.
We end up in her room. It's neat but not sterile—books stacked on the desk, a bulletin board covered in photos and ticket stubs, a blue bedspread that matches what she told me is her favorite color.
I've never been in her room before. Not in this timeline.
But in the loops, she described it to me. Told me about the books she loves, the photos of friends, the ticket stubs from movies and concerts she's been to.
Being here now feels like stepping into a memory that isn't quite mine.
"So," she says, sitting on her bed and patting the space next to her. "Talk to me. What's this big secret?"
I sit down, my heart hammering. This is it. The moment I've been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.
"Before I start," I say, "I need you to promise you'll hear me out. All the way through. Even if it sounds impossible. Even if you think I'm crazy."
"Yuuki, you're really scaring me."
"I know. I'm sorry. But I need that promise."
She takes my hand. "Okay. I promise. I'll listen to everything."
I take a breath. Here goes nothing.
"Do you remember asking me how I knew about the car? How I saved you?"
"Yes."
"And do you remember me saying that I felt like I knew you better than I should? That you felt the same way?"
"Yes."
"There's a reason for that." I look at her directly. "Akari, I've lived March 14th eighteen times."
She blinks. "What?"
"I was caught in a time loop. March 14th kept repeating. Over and over. For eighteen days. Or eighteen iterations of the same day. However you want to count it."
She's staring at me, her expression somewhere between confused and concerned. "Yuuki—"
"Please. Let me finish." I squeeze her hand. "In the first loop, I saw you about to get hit by that car. I pushed you out of the way and got hit instead. I died. And then I woke up, and it was March 14th again."
"That's not—"
"Possible. I know. But it happened. Over and over. I tried everything—saving you different ways, not saving you, staying home, changing the day. Nothing worked. March 14th just kept resetting. At midnight, I'd wake up and it would be the same morning again."
She's very still, her hand tense in mine.
"And in those loops," I continue, "I got to know you. Really know you. Because in some of them, we spent the day together. We talked. We became friends. We..." I pause. "We became more than friends. You helped me figure out how to break the loop. You believed me when I told you about it. You were the only thing keeping me sane."
"Yuuki, this sounds like—"
"I know how it sounds. I know. But it's true. That's why I know things about you I shouldn't know. Why I know you tap your pen three times when you're nervous. Why I know about the book you stayed up until 3 AM reading. Why I know your favorite color is blue because it reminds you of the ocean." I'm talking faster now, desperate for her to understand. "That's why I look at you like we have history—because we do. Just not in this timeline. In eighteen other timelines that only I remember."
Silence.
She's looking at me with an expression I can't read. Shock? Disbelief? Fear?
"Say something," I whisper. "Please."
"I don't..." She pulls her hand away, standing up. "I don't know what to say. Yuuki, that's—time loops aren't real. They're fiction. Science fiction."
"I know that's what you should think. What anyone would think. But I'm telling you the truth."
"Are you?" She's pacing now, running her hands through her hair. "Or are you—god, I don't want to say this—but are you having some kind of episode? Some kind of break with reality?"
"I'm not having an episode."
"Then how do you explain knowing things about me? You could have found that stuff out. Asked around. Researched me. Watched me."
"You know I didn't do that. You know me, Akari."
"Do I? You just told me you've lived an entire secret timeline with me that I have no memory of. That you've fallen in love with versions of me that don't exist." She stops pacing, looking at me with something like fear. "How am I supposed to process that?"
"I don't know. But it's the truth. I swear to you, it's the truth."
"Prove it then. Tell me something you couldn't possibly know. Something that only I know, that I've never told anyone."
I think fast. What has she told me in the loops that she's never mentioned in this timeline?
"Your dad gave you that watch," I say, pointing to her wrist. "The one you wear on your left hand even though you're left-handed, because he gave it to you before he deployed overseas and you're afraid of scratching it. You wear it every day because it makes you feel close to him when he's gone."
Her face goes white. "How did you—I've never told anyone that."
"You told me. Loop twelve. We were in the library."
"But that didn't happen. We weren't—" She stops, shaking. "That conversation never happened."
"It did. Just not in this timeline."
She sits down heavily on her bed, staring at her watch. "This is insane. This is actually insane."
"I know."
"But you're saying it's true."
"Yes."
"And in these other timelines, we were... what? Friends? More than friends?"
"Both. It depended on the loop. But in most of them, yes. We were close. You helped me. You believed me. You..." I swallow hard. "You told me once that you could love me. If you had time."
She looks up at me, tears in her eyes. "And you've been carrying this? This whole time? Every time we hang out, every time we talk—you're remembering all these other versions of me?"
"Yes."
"That must be..." She wipes at her eyes. "God, Yuuki. That must be torture."
"Sometimes. But also..." I move closer, carefully. "Also it means I know you. Really know you. And I've chosen you, over and over, in eighteen different ways. That has to mean something."
"It means you're either telling the truth and I'm part of something impossible," she says, "or you're having a mental health crisis and I need to get you help."
"I'm telling the truth."
"I want to believe you. I do. But Yuuki, this is..." She takes a shaky breath. "Can you give me time? To process this? To figure out how I feel about it?"
"Of course. Take all the time you need."
"And you're not... you're not going to loop again, right? This isn't going to reset?"
"No. I broke free. Time is moving forward now. This is real."
"Okay." She nods, more to herself than to me. "Okay. I need to think. About all of this. About what it means."
I stand up, giving her space. "I understand. I'll go."
"Yuuki?" She looks up at me, and despite everything, there's no anger in her eyes. Just confusion, and fear, and something that might be belief. "Thank you. For telling me. For trusting me with this."
"Thank you for listening. For not immediately deciding I'm crazy."
"Jury's still out on that," she says, but she's almost smiling. "But... I don't think you're crazy. I think something happened to you. Something impossible. And I need time to wrap my head around it."
"That's fair."
I head for her bedroom door, but she calls out before I can leave.
"Yuuki? One more thing."
"Yeah?"
"In those other timelines. The ones where we were more than friends. Were you happy?"
The question catches me off guard. "Yes. Even when everything else was falling apart—yes. With you, I was happy."
She nods slowly. "Okay. Good. That's... that's good to know."
I leave her house feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.
Lighter because I finally told her. The secret I've been carrying is out in the open.
Heavier because I don't know what happens next. Don't know if she'll believe me, if she'll accept it, if this will change everything between us.
But at least now, she knows.
And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.
May 16th - Thursday
Akari doesn't come to school.
Neither does Satomi—she's at the hospital with Ren. But Akari's absence feels different. Weighted. Significant.
She's processing. Thinking about what I told her. Trying to decide if I'm telling the truth or if I'm delusional.
I don't blame her for needing space.
I spend lunch alone on the roof, eating mechanically, staring at the city skyline. Thinking about the loops. About dying. About everything I've lost and everything I've gained.
My phone buzzes.
Akari: i've been thinking about what you told me.
My heart rate spikes.
Me: And?
Akari: and i think i believe you.
I read the message three times, hardly daring to hope.
Me: Really?
Akari: really. it explains too much. the way you look at me. the things you know. the feeling that we have history. and that thing about my dad's watch... there's no way you could know that.
Me: So you believe me about the loops.
Akari: i believe something impossible happened to you. i believe you lived through something traumatic and weird and unexplainable. and i believe that i was part of it, even if i don't remember.
Relief floods through me, so intense it's almost painful.
Me: Thank you. For believing me. For not thinking I'm crazy.
Akari: oh i still think you're a little crazy. but in a good way. in a "survived something impossible" way.
Akari: can we talk? in person? i have questions.
Me: Of course. When?
Akari: tomorrow after we visit ren? we can go somewhere and you can tell me everything. all eighteen loops. i want to know it all.
Me: All of it?
Akari: everything. i want to know the versions of me you met. what we talked about. how i helped you. all of it.
Akari: because if you fell in love with me eighteen times, i want to understand why.
My breath catches.
Me: Okay. Tomorrow. I'll tell you everything.
Akari: good. and yuuki?
Me: Yeah?
Akari: thank you for trusting me with this. i know it wasn't easy.
Me: You're worth the risk.
Akari: we'll see if you still think that after i ask you a million questions tomorrow :)
I smile at my phone, relief and hope and something like joy mixing together in my chest.
She believes me.
She wants to know more.
She's not running away.
Maybe—just maybe—this is going to be okay.
May 17th - Friday, 4:32 PM
Ren is doing much better.
He's sitting up in bed when we visit, color back in his face, making jokes about his hospital gown and flirting shamelessly with the nurses.
"You're definitely feeling better," Satomi observes drily.
"Can't keep a good man down."
"The car tried though."
"The car failed. I am immortal."
"You have a concussion and three broken ribs."
"Minor details."
Akari and I exchange a smile. It's good to see him like this. Almost back to normal.
Satomi has barely left his side for two days. She's brought him homework (which he's ignoring), magazines (which he's reading), and snacks (which he's devouring despite the nurses' protests).
They still haven't acknowledged what's between them. But it's there, obvious in every look, every touch, every moment of concern.
"So when do you get out?" Akari asks.
"Tomorrow, actually. Doctor cleared me this morning. I'll be on bed rest for a while, but at least I get to go home."
"Thank god," Satomi mutters. "I was running out of excuses to skip class."
"You skip class for me? I'm touched."
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late. Already there."
They bicker affectionately while Akari and I sit quietly, just enjoying the normalcy of it. The proof that Ren is okay, that we didn't lose him, that life continues forward.
After an hour, a nurse comes in and gently kicks us out—Ren needs rest, and we've been here long enough.
We say our goodbyes. Satomi lingers again, having another one of those weighted conversations with Ren that we pretend not to notice.
And then Akari and I are walking out of the hospital together, into the late afternoon sunshine.
"So," she says. "You promised me answers."
"I did."
"And I have a lot of questions."
"I figured."
"Should we go somewhere? Get food? I feel like this conversation requires snacks."
Despite everything, I laugh. "Snacks. Sure."
We end up at a small café near the station. Quiet, private, with a corner booth that feels isolated from the rest of the world.
Akari orders coffee and cake. I order tea. And then we're sitting across from each other, the weight of eighteen loops between us.
"Okay," she says, pulling out a small notebook. "I made a list."
"A list?"
"Of questions. About the loops. About us. About everything." She flips it open, and I can see pages of neat handwriting. "I told you I had a lot of questions."
"I see that."
"So." She looks up at me, her expression serious but not unkind. "Start from the beginning. The first loop. Tell me everything."
And I do.
I tell her about waking up on March 14th, confused and terrified. About dying for her in that first loop, pushing her out of the way of the car. About waking up again and realizing I was trapped.
I tell her about loop two, where I saved her without dying. About the hope I felt, thinking it was over, only to wake up on March 14th again.
I tell her about the despair, the experimentation, the slow realization that I had no idea how to break free.
And then I tell her about loop eight. When I first approached her. When I convinced her about the loops. When she believed me and helped me.
"What did I say?" she asks. "When you told me?"
"You asked for proof. You were skeptical at first. But when I predicted things—the PA announcement, Yamada spilling his drink—you started to believe. And then you asked how you could help."
"And did I? Help?"
"Yes. Every time. In every loop where I told you, you helped. You theorized with me, tested things with me, kept me sane when I wanted to give up." I pause. "You saved me, Akari. More than once."
She's quiet for a moment, processing. Then: "Tell me about the other loops. The ones where we were more than friends."
This is harder. More vulnerable.
But I promised her everything.
"Loop thirteen," I say. "You asked me how I felt about you. And I told you the truth—that I was falling for you. That I'd spent days learning about you, understanding you, and I couldn't help but care."
"What did I say?"
"You said you wished you could remember. That you could see why I fell. And that if you had the time I'd had, you might fall for me too."
Her eyes are shimmering. "And loop fourteen?"
"I told you I loved you. On the roof, at sunset. And you kissed me."
"I kissed you?" She sounds almost breathless.
"You said you didn't know if it was love—that you didn't know me well enough. But that you liked me. That in another timeline, you could love me too."
"Oh." She wipes at her eyes. "That's... god, that's romantic and tragic at the same time."
"That's what the loops were. Romantic and tragic."
"And then what happened? After the kiss?"
"Midnight. Reset. You forgot. And I had to start over."
She reaches across the table, taking my hand. "I'm so sorry. That you went through that. That you lost me, over and over."
"It's okay. I found you again. For real this time."
"But it must have hurt. Falling for me, knowing I'd forget."
"It did. But it was also..." I search for the words. "It was also the best parts of my life. Even with the resets. Even with the pain. Because you saw me. In every loop where we talked, you saw me. And that meant everything."
She's crying now, quiet tears running down her face. "Tell me more. Tell me about the other loops."
So I do. I tell her about loop fifteen, where I almost gave up. Where I considered just accepting the loop, staying with her forever in that one day, because losing her every night felt better than never having her at all.
I tell her how she talked me out of it. How she reminded me that existence isn't the same as living. That I deserved a future.
I tell her about loop sixteen and seventeen. About our theories, our experiments, our attempts to understand the purpose of the loop.
And I tell her about loop eighteen. The last one. Where I finally gave up, stayed home, and she came to find me. Where she remembered March 13th, which meant time had started moving forward.
"So me coming to your apartment—that's what broke the loop?" she asks.
"I think so. Or maybe it was me accepting something. Learning something the loop wanted me to learn."
"What did you learn?"
"That I'm not invisible. That connection is worth fighting for. That loving someone doesn't make you weak—it makes you brave."
She's looking at me with such intensity. Such emotion.
"Yuuki," she says quietly. "In all those loops. In all those versions of me. Did any of them not help you? Did any of them not believe you?"
"No. Every time I told you, you believed me eventually. Every time, you helped."
"Good." She squeezes my hand. "Because that means something about who I am. Who we are together. That even without memories, even starting fresh each time, we still chose each other."
"We did. We always did."
"And now?" She's looking at me intently. "Now that I know. Now that time is moving forward. What are we?"
It's the question I've been dreading and hoping for in equal measure.
"I don't know," I admit. "I know what I want. But I don't want to pressure you. You didn't live those loops. You don't have those memories. To you, we've only known each other for two months."
"But you've known me for eighteen days longer than that. Eighteen different versions."
"That's not the same."
"Isn't it?" She leans forward. "Yuuki, you've proven to me over and over, in eighteen different timelines, that you care about me. That you'd choose me. That you'd fight for me, even when it cost you everything. That's..." She pauses. "That's more than most people get in a lifetime."
"But you don't feel the same way. How could you? You don't remember."
"You're right. I don't remember." She's still holding my hand, her thumb tracing circles on my palm. "But I feel it. This connection between us. This sense that we're supposed to be together. I've felt it since the beginning, I just didn't understand why."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that maybe I don't need to remember to know that this—us—is real. Maybe the fact that we keep finding each other, keep choosing each other, is enough."
My heart is pounding. "Akari—"
"I'm saying that I want to try. To see where this goes. To build something new, while honoring what you remember." She smiles, soft and genuine. "I'm saying that maybe I can fall in love with you in this timeline too. If you'll give me the chance."
I can't speak. Can't process this. Can't believe what I'm hearing.
"You want to...?"
"Date you. Be with you. Figure out what this is." She laughs, a little self-conscious. "If that's okay. If I'm not completely misreading this situation."
"You're not misreading it," I manage. "I want that too. I've wanted that for eighteen loops."
"Then let's try. Let's see what happens when we're both here, both moving forward, both choosing this."
I stand up, moving around the table to her side. She stands too, and suddenly we're very close, the weight of eighteen loops and two months and countless moments between us.
"Can I kiss you?" I ask quietly. "For real this time? In a timeline that won't reset?"