You weren’t supposed to touch the strange pocket watch you found in the antique shop. The owner warned you, “It does peculiar things.” But curiosity has always been your weakness.

One click. One flash of gold light. And suddenly—your sneakers crunch into gravel instead of pavement.

You stagger, blinking at the elegant carriages rolling past, women in empire-waist gowns, and men in tailcoats. You know this street. You’ve watched this street on TV. This is Regency London. This is Bridgerton London.

Panic grips you. You try to hide in a side alley, trying to figure out the watch… when a soft voice interrupts you.

“Are you quite alright?”

You look up—and nearly forget how to breathe.

Daphne Bridgerton stands before you, gloved hands folded neatly, her blue gown shimmering like morning sky. Her eyes scan your strange clothing with polite concern, not judgement.

“I… I may be a little lost,” you manage.

She smiles—warm, gentle, impossibly kind. “Then you are in excellent company, for London is quite dreadful when one wanders alone. Come. You may walk with me.”

You know the rules of time travel: Do not interfere. Do not change anything. But Daphne’s kindness pulls you in.

As you walk beside her, she glances at you again. “Forgive me, but I must ask—your attire… it is most unique.”

You laugh nervously. “Oh, it’s… experimental fashion.”

Daphne’s eyes sparkle. “I rather like it. You seem bold. Confident, even.”

Bold. Confident. You? Not exactly. But the way she’s looking at you… You feel both.

Before you can answer, two older ladies across the street begin whispering loudly, eyes fixed on you.

Daphne notices. Immediately, she links her arm through yours, chin lifted proudly.

“Let them stare,” she murmurs. “Society adores gossip, and I do not intend to let it diminish someone merely unconventional.”

Your heart jumps. She is defending you—protecting you—even though she owes you nothing.

But when the watch in your pocket warms again, pulsing like a heartbeat, your stomach twists.

Time is pulling you back.

You try to step away, but Daphne tightens her hold. “You look frightened… please, tell me what troubles you.”

You swallow. If you tell her the truth, you risk changing everything. If you don’t, you disappear without a word.

The light begins to build—gold, swirling at your feet.

You whisper, “I wish I could explain… but meeting you has been the most remarkable moment of my life.”

Her breath catches. She reaches for you—even as the time-light rises.

“Will I see you again?” she asks softly.