She hesitated, then scrawled again:
All right, then. Do something else for me. Tomorrow morning, wear your watch on your right wrist instead of your left.
The next day, dread gnawed at her. Hours dragged. When she finally opened the book, her hand trembled violently.
New words stared back at her:
You noticed? It felt strange all day. Everyone asked me why I switched it. Why does it matter so much to you?
Emma dropped the pen. Her chest constricted. She staggered to the mirror, clinging to the frame. And there—around her wrist—was Ethan's old watch.
It had never been hers. She had never worn it. But there it was, leather snug, ticking softly.
Emma collapsed, clutching her wrist, sobs tearing from her throat. She had changed something. She had reached into the past and pulled it into her present.
If she could do that… what else could she alter?