This Is How You Lose The Time War

I am not a mermaid but with only a simple touch, I can make someone forget about me. I am not a time traveler, but I am very prone to waking up to other people's bodies, a different scenario, and a different timeline. If someone will ask me who I am, my only answer will be... I am someone lost in time.

We can't really control time, if time paused we can't really do anything about it. If the time starts to move again then take chances before it's too late. During their past life, they already know will come to an end. But a chance was given for them to live and find each other to love again.

"There's something so fascinating about your innocence," he breathes, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. "It's a shame my own darkness is going to destroy it. However, I think I might enjoy the act of doing so." Being reborn as an immortal isn't particularly easy. For Rosie, it's made harder as she is sentenced to live her life within Time's territory, a powerful Immortal known for his callous behaviour and unlawful followers. However, the way he appears to her is not all there is to him. In fear of a powerful danger, Time whisks her away throughout his own personal history. But going back in time has it's consequences; mainly which, involve all the dark secrets he's held within eternity. But Rosie won't lie. The way she feels toward him isn't just their mate bond. It's a dark, dangerous attraction that bypasses how she has felt for past relationships. This is raw, passionate and sexy. And she can't escape it.

Eliza Ward does not fall through time. Time bends toward her. Pulled from the present into Revolutionary America, Eliza becomes trapped in a landscape where history repeats unevenly, battles restart with variations, and memory functions as both anchor and weapon. She is not a chosen heroine, but a constant: a woman whose awareness destabilizes the moment itself. She meets Mercy Hale, a midwife and witch who understands time as a negotiation rather than a force to command. Mercy aids Eliza’s survival while refusing the role of savior, having already learned the cost of standing too close to history’s center. During a looping battle, Eliza saves Thomas Reed, a Continental soldier who does not shift when time does. Thomas is an anchor: steady, observant, unchanged across iterations. Their bond deepens in an almost-normal village where time briefly behaves. Eliza’s intervention triggers time’s response. Rather than immediate destruction, time collects interest. Mercy bargains to spare Eliza and Thomas, sacrificing her own future to stabilize the present. Time extracts payment from Eliza as well, stripping away her voice, the very tool she uses to name and hold moments in place. Silenced and unmoored, Eliza is violently displaced back into the original battle. Unable to anchor the moment, she watches Thomas die in the version of history that was always waiting beneath her defiance. Told in rotating perspectives between Eliza, Thomas, and Mercy, The Hours That Refused to Behave is a lyrical time-travel novel about revolution, restraint, and consequence, asking not whether history can be changed, but who pays when it is.

Year 3150 where flying cars exists, time machines are prohibited, where existence are being questioned, and secrets are more important than truth. Time is a secret and none of you is the answer. Buried should not be unveiled or else the secrets will be told and you're the one who will be kept. Who are you when even your identity is a mystery? Does time really has a buried secrets or time is the secret itself?

The year my dad went broke, I was sent to live with billionaire heir Jace Blackwell. We grew up together. When he had a fever, he clung to me, face buried in my arms. When he got yelled at, he sprawled across my lap and sulked. And when another boy wrote me a love letter, Jace pinned me down and kissed me—shaking, jealous, possessive. Everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Then, on the day we were filling out our early college applications, a sharply dressed man burst into the classroom and shoved me to the floor. He grabbed eighteen-year-old Jace, his eyes bloodshot. "Jace! Look at me! I'm you ten years from now! Don't go to the same college as Nadia. She's not the one you love. It's Faye!" Faye Whitmore. The broke new girl. Eighteen-year-old Jace stared at that identical face, stunned. Then his expression went dark. "What the hell are you talking about? The only person I love is Nadia! I don't care who you are. Touch her again, and I'll kill you!" He rushed over and pulled me into his arms. He was shaking. I gave a bitter smile. No one knew. I was from ten years in the future, too. And twenty-eight-year-old Jace wasn't lying. By then, I wasn't the girl he loved anymore.