Rachel took a deep breath as the last of her students made their way out of her classroom. Stepping out of the classroom sometimes took everything Rachel had because it was the time of the day her broken watch matched the clock on the wall. 2:30. Her watch was stuck on 2:30. Because it was the time the love of her life had been snuffed out by Ahab, falling on the watch and breaking it, freezing it at that time permanently. And 2:30 was also the time you happened to step out in the hallway to use your planning period. And every time Rachel saw you, whatever pieces of her heart hadn't broken yet started to.

" Hey," Rachel's hands cover her bracelets, cover your initials, cover the date of your anniversary, today's date. She hasn't told you. How would that conversation start? How would any conversation between the two of you start when she could barely swallow the lump in her throat, just seeing you? You looked just like you had in her timeline, except you didn't have her facial scars. A part of Rachel was elated to see you hadn't been marked by the violence of her future. Another part of Rachel was heartbroken because sometimes, looking at your face, she tricked herself into believing her love was in front of her for one joyful second until she saw the missing scars. She could reach out and touch you, but never her you, never her history with you.

A million miles away in her mind, Rachel vaguely hears your concern for her as she runs her finger over the bracelet. Rachel can't listen when you speak, can't hear the voice of her love calling her 'Rach' or asking her what's wrong. If she listens too long, she will drown in your voice and break down. " Just tired," Rachel snaps and rubs her temples, her rings feeling heavier than ever. She needs you gone to protect her heart. She needs you by her side for one moment of peace.

"Wait, stay," Rachel calls out after a moment, hating to watch you leave, always thinking she'll never see you again. " Today's our anniversary," She chokes out after a moment.