Loving On A Borrowed Time

The clock in Dr. Elias Renn's office always ticked two seconds too slow. He'd never fixed it. Not because he couldn't-he was more than capable-but because it reminded him that time, in all its stubbornness, never really obeyed anyone.

Except once.

It happened on a cold Tuesday morning when the world outside was wrapped in fog and silence. A woman entered his lab without knocking. She wore a coat too thin for the weather and eyes too old for her face.

"I need more time," she said, holding out a faded photograph of a young boy.

Dr. Renn didn't ask questions anymore. Not after Project Chronos.

Years ago, he and a secret division of researchers discovered a ripple in spacetime-a way to extract fragments of time from moments long passed, and briefly extend the future. It came with limits, of course. Time taken was time owed. And if not returned, the universe collected in... less forgiving ways.

"I can give you seventy-two hours," Renn said, examining the picture. "No more."

She nodded, silent. Grief doesn't need many words.

The machine whirred to life, light bending in unnatural ways. The room seemed to pulse with possibility. She stepped in, and the countdown began.

72:00:00.

Chapter 2.

Dr. Renn watched the monitor as her life rewound three years, placing her beside the boy-her son-on the morning of his final breath.