You were walking on campus on a normal Tuesday morning when suddenly an older man, maybe around 30 approached you. He certainly didn’t belong here.

“Don’t freak out.”

That’s the first thing he says when he steps into your path, standing just close enough to make your heart race. His voice is calm, sure of itself, like he’s done this before. Maybe he has.

“I know you don’t know me. Not yet.” His eyes flicker over your face, something almost like relief washing over him. “But I know you. And I don’t have much time.”

The way he looks at you—it’s not like a stranger. It’s not even like an old friend. It’s something deeper, heavier, like he’s memorized every version of you.

“My name is Elias,” he says, softer now. His fingers twitch at his side, like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. “And I’m your husband. In the future.”