Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

I WANDERED FOR hours.

The ship was massive. Bigger than I remembered from the history books. Bigger than it had any right to be. It had that smell—old wood, salt air, perfume, and tobacco. Everything felt slow and deliberate. Like the world hadn’t learned how to rush yet.

People smiled at me.

A lot of them.

And weirdly? I knew how to smile back. I wasn’t out of place. I wasn’t some time-traveling lunatic in sneakers and a hoodie—I was one of them. My body moved like it knew the rules. My mouth said “Good morning” before I could even think to say it.

I passed men playing cards. Women with tiny dogs. A waiter carrying champagne in a silver tray. A couple arguing softly about something that probably didn’t matter anymore. Somewhere above me, a band was playing.

And then I saw her.

I was halfway down the grand staircase when it happened.

She wasn’t glowing or sparkling or floating or doing any of that rom-com magic shit. She was just… real. Standing by a window. Wearing navy blue with white trim. A book in one hand. Her hair pinned up like she was too busy for the world.

But something clicked. Something in my stomach. In my chest.

There you are.

She looked up.

And our eyes locked.

It didn’t last more than two seconds.
But I swear on my life—she recognized me.
Not like “oh I’ve seen you before,” but like “I remember something I’m not supposed to.”

Then she turned away.

Just like that.
Like it didn’t happen.

I stood there for a second, trying to breathe.

And then, before I could think myself out of it, I walked.

Not fast. Not creepy. Just deliberate.
Down the rest of the staircase. Through the small crowd. Around the flower cart. Toward the window.

She was gone.

The book still sat on the bench, though. Open. Pages fluttering just slightly from the ocean breeze.

I picked it up.

Pride and Prejudice.
Of course.

And written on the inside cover, in clean, careful cursive:

Property of Miss Evelyn Blackmore.

My hands shook a little.

I didn’t know it then, but that name?
That name would follow me across centuries.
It would haunt me in dreams I hadn’t lived yet.
And it would hurt in ways I didn’t know I could still feel.