The rain hammered against the windows, drumming a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding of Aryan's heart. He had never liked storms, but tonight it felt different—almost alive, as if the weather itself were warning him.
The library, usually a quiet sanctuary, was almost empty. Only a few late-night readers lingered among the rows of dusty books. Aryan had stayed behind, finishing an assignment, when something unusual caught his eye.
A faint golden glow shimmered from the top shelf of the history section. Curious, he climbed the rickety ladder and saw an old, leather-bound diary. Its cover was worn with age, yet the title gleamed in intricate golden letters:
"Find Me Before I Disappear."
He ran his fingers over the embossed letters, the leather cool beneath his touch. Something about it felt alive. The air around him seemed to hum faintly, a subtle vibration that raised goosebumps along his arms.
With a mix of curiosity and unease, Aryan opened the diary. The first page was dated… tomorrow.
He frowned. "That's impossible," he muttered, flipping to the next page. Yet, each line described events that were bound to happen in the next twenty-four hours, from a spilled cup of coffee to the exact moment the clock would strike ten.
His breath caught. A whisper brushed his ear: "Aryan… help me."
He froze, spinning around. The library was empty. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound. His heart raced.
He looked back at the diary. New words had appeared, written in a delicate, flowing script he didn't recognize:
"I'm trapped between moments, forgotten by time. You can see me. Only you can help me."
Aryan swallowed. Trapped? Forgotten by time? This had to be some kind of joke—or a viral marketing stunt. But deep down, he knew it wasn't.
The diary's pages seemed to turn on their own, revealing more details about a girl named Meera. Each entry was filled with small details about her life—her favorite books, the streets she walked, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The diary even mentioned his own life, referencing moments from earlier that day with unnerving accuracy.
A chill ran down his spine. He slammed the diary shut, only to hear the whisper again, softer this time: "Don't leave me."
Aryan bolted from the library, the diary clutched to his chest. Outside, the storm raged harder, and the streets glistened with wet reflections of neon lights. He felt a pull toward the old bridge at the edge of town—the very bridge mentioned in the diary.
The First Glimpse
That night, Aryan couldn't sleep. The diary lay open on his desk, pages fluttering in a wind that didn't exist. Suddenly, he noticed a faint glow from the window.
A figure stood there—a girl. Pale, fragile, yet radiant under the dim streetlight. Her hair floated slightly, as if underwater. Her eyes glimmered with a strange, otherworldly light.
"Meera?" he whispered.
She didn't answer. She only stared, her gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and pleading. Then, in an instant, she vanished.
The diary trembled in his hands. A new page had appeared, as if written in real-time:
"Meet me at the old bridge, midnight. Don't be late."
Aryan's pulse raced. His mind screamed that this was dangerous, but something—an unexplainable pull—compelled him forward.
The Midnight Bridge
He arrived at the bridge exactly at midnight. Fog curled around the wooden planks, and the moon cast a silver glow over the river below. Every instinct told him to run, yet he walked forward, drawn by the same force that had pulled him to the diary.
Then he saw her.
Meera stood at the far end, delicate and beautiful, her eyes wide with fear. Her hands clutched the diary, glowing faintly in the night.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered. "If anyone sees you… everything will be lost."
"I don't care," Aryan said, stepping closer. "I'll do whatever it takes to save you."
She hesitated, then slowly reached out her hand. When their fingers brushed, a spark shot through him—a connection that felt eternal, as if their souls recognized each other across time itself.
Time seemed to bend around them. The fog twisted, shadows danced, and the diary floated between them, glowing brighter. Aryan realized: this was only the beginning.
The Warning
A cold wind swept the bridge. The diary's glow pulsed violently, and a whisper echoed through the night:
"Every choice has a cost. Save her… but beware the time that forgets."
Aryan gritted his teeth. He didn't understand everything yet, but one thing was certain: he would not let her disappear.
As Meera's eyes locked with his, he felt the weight of a promise—an unspoken bond that could bend reality itself.
And in that moment, he knew: nothing would ever be the same.