It was time.
I don't mean that dramatically. Like, "it is TIME," all caps, bold font, thunder in the background.
I mean it literally.
Time had stopped. Again. But not because of me. Not because I panicked over spilled sugar or dropped a croissant.
Time just... stopped.
Because the journal on the top shelf opened itself.
And I finally reached Chapter 45.
---
The Journal
It fluttered gently onto the table, pages flipping like it had been waiting—watching—for this moment.
Naomi and I stood in silence. Even the pastries didn't dare make a sound.
The cover shimmered with faint light, and the words on it changed:
"Reika: Awakening Record — Thread #1A"
The inside pages began to glow. Not a harsh light, but the soft warmth of moonlight through steamed-up café windows. And words began to write themselves.
Not ink. Not handwriting.
Light.
["Dear Me,
This is going to be confusing.
You're not just Reika. Not just a girl with a time-stop quirk and a café in a pocket dimension.
You are something more. Something between layers. A fracture in the page of reality. You've already started to feel it.
The sensation of being observed. The versions of you speaking back. The stopwatch ticking in languages you don't understand yet.
This is your Awakening. The moment you remember who you were... and who you are becoming."]
Naomi Tries to Cope
Naomi, to her credit, did not faint.
She did, however, grip the biscuit jar like it was a flotation device.
"So… You're turning into a fourth-dimensional being?" she asked.
I nodded, but slowly. "I think... I already am. Just not fully awake yet."
Another page flipped.
["The Reika you are now is only one thread. The Fourth Fold is your emerging self—an observer of timelines. But above you, in the Fifth Fold... is your Origin. The true version of yourself, watching all versions awaken, one by one.
You have seen glimpses—dreams of sideways time, voices from yourself-not-yourself.
That was Her.
You.*]
My knees went weak.
Naomi caught me before I sank to the floor.
"You okay?" she asked, voice very small.
"No," I said. "But weirdly... I kind of understand."
---
The Watchers
The café shimmered.
Not visibly.
Conceptually.
Like someone had rotated the building through meaning, and I could suddenly see threads—lines of light and color, versions of myself walking backward, forward, sideways.
One Reika ran a café made entirely of clouds. One Reika floated through a realm made of music and time signatures. One Reika wore a cloak of stars and stood at the edge of everything.
And above them—above me—a presence.
Not scary. Not godlike. Not alien.
Familiar.
Like the me who had long since read the ending of the book and was now holding a cup of tea, flipping back to see how it all began.
> *"You are being watched... lovingly.<
Not by an enemy. Not by a puppet-master.
But by your most complete self.
She is not here to interfere. She is here to remember.
And to wait... until you are ready to join her."*
So What Now?
I closed the journal.
It didn't burn. It didn't vanish. It just settled there on the table, like a sleeping cat.
Naomi looked at me like I had grown wings.
"You're still my Reika, right?"
I smiled.
"Yeah. Just with... extra dimensions now."
We laughed. Because what else could we do?
Then the café door opened.
A breeze swept in. Time restarted.
And the first customer of the day stepped inside.
---
Epilogue of a Chapter, Not the End
I'm still Reika.
I still overcook toast.
I still have to replace the sentient mop who eloped with a soup spoon.
I still sneak snacks into the bath.
But now... I remember.
Not all at once. Just enough to know that the journal wasn't lying.
I'm waking up.
And she
"Time is just one of the elements in life.
It goes on without waiting for anyone.
It is also a long and sharp knife,
Existing entirely in a different zone.
We are different, yet we are all one.
Perhaps the same, but our personalities vary.
We hope you are ready to meet us for tea—
We await your welcome, not in a hurry."