The sound of the front door opening echoed through the house.
Mike and Isabelle turned their heads in unison, their hearts briefly leaping. Jess and Megan should have been arriving home, their laughter, the jingle of keys, the usual chaos of daily life. But this was too soon. They had arrived an hour before that moment.
So who was at the door?
Mike instinctively stepped in front of Isabelle, the instinct of protection deeply ingrained. They moved toward the entryway cautiously, the weight of the Chronivac still present in the back of their minds. As they approached, the light from the hallway spilled across the hardwood floor.
Then a voice called out.
"Hello? Dad? Mom?"
It wasn't Jess. It wasn't Megan. It was a young man's voice. Familiar, yet not heard in over a century.
Mike's breath caught. Isabelle's eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief washing over her face. She recognized the voice immediately.
"Jeff...?"
Standing there in the doorway was a teenage boy, backpack slung over one shoulder, confused and blinking as if he'd just stepped out of a dream. The same sandy hair. The same hesitant posture. The same unsure smile he used to wear.
"I... I don't know why I came here," he said, glancing down at his hands, as if trying to understand his own presence. "I was on my way home from school and... I just felt like I needed to see you."
Isabelle's heart pounded. The device had been programmed to return to a specific time, with their memories intact. But had it done more than that? Had it reached deeper than intended? Had some echo of Jeff—of who she once was—been preserved, copied, or split?
Mike stepped forward slowly, his expression unreadable, a mixture of awe and confusion.
Isabelle's hands trembled. She wasn't Jeff anymore. But now Jeff was standing right in front of her.
Not a memory. Not a ghost. Real.
And the clock was still ticking toward the moment Jess and Megan were supposed to return.
Something had changed.
And this time, there would be no easy answers.