Quartet For The End Of Time Novels & Stories

“Here, this is for you.” He handed me a Perler bead keychain shaped like Bart Simpson. “I made this for you. It’s your favorite character.” I did not take it. My gaze fell on the pink rose bead keychain dangling from his phone For his last birthday, I spent a week piecing together a cartoon version of us as a bead keychain and asked him to put it on his phone. He said it was childish and casually tossed it into a drawer. I never saw him take it out again after that.

That evening, I got an overseas call from Serena. Her voice was choked and pleading, at the end of her options. "Vivienne, I'm begging you, come back and see him one last time. He doesn't have long. This is his final wish." At that moment I was leaning on Julian's shoulder, sitting by the sea, watching the sunset and the evening wind. The years were gentle, the world was steady, and my life had long since turned the page. I spoke softly, my voice level and untroubled, without a ripple. "There's no need."

“It is not forgiveness. It is simply that I no longer want anything to do with you.” I pressed the button on my wheelchair, backing up half a step. “Mr. Benson, Mr. York, regarding our business partnership, a designated representative will handle the follow-up with you. If there is nothing else, I will take my leave.” With that, I turned my wheelchair around and began moving toward the door. As I passed Tyler, he suddenly grabbed the armrest of my wheelchair. “Nora! Don’t go, please don’t go!” His face was stained with tears, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"You are the man who caught me when I fell. You are the man who holds the sky." The music began to fade, the grand piano offering a series of soft, descending chords that signaled the end of the waltz. The string quartet drew their bows across the strings one final, lingering time, letting the sound dissolve perfectly into the ambient quiet of the club. We stopped dancing, but Victor did not release me.

As he watched Juliet pray every day to go back in time, he couldn't help but ask, "Is the present really that bad? Why do you want to go back in time?" Juliet abruptly leaned in close to his ear and grinned. "I'll be honest with you. I want to go back because I want to pursue the person I like!" Rowan's body went stiff, and a cold look flashed in his eyes as his fists curled. "Who do you want to pursue?" "His name's Caspian Henderson. He's super good-looking, and I like him a lot!" As soon as her words fell, she felt the temperature around her drop. Rowan shot to his feet, threw the sunflowers into the trash, and stormed away without saying another word.

The timing. "Everything is perfect," Diana keeps saying. "Absolutely perfect." At two o'clock, the music starts. A string quartet playing something classical and beautiful. The guests stand. Marcus is wheeled to the front. He will give Elara away. It was Kieran's idea. One final act of redemption for a man destroyed by his own choices. Marcus looks at Elara. His eyes are clearer than they have been in months. Like this moment has brought him back from wherever guilt took him.

After a few seconds Ember blows her whistle again. We're close to rounding up and I turn to Cillian to find him staring at me, but not my eyes, my body. I suddenly feel self conscious and remember how small my sportswear was. Ember blows her whistle twice signifying the end of the routines and people cheer in relief. It was over, I wiped the dusting of sweat on my forehead and tried to find my roommates as Cillian disappeared in the crowd. I find Daphne and Phoebe standing by the pool side. Phoebe is fanning her face with her hands and Daphne stands beside her looking pissed as always.

Naomi and Wayne stood at the center, each holding a child, looking every bit the picture of a perfect family of four. I stood silently in the crowd, watching that scene. Taking a bite of matcha cake, the sweetness on my tongue turned bitter. Without sparing them another glance, I walked out of the hotel. Sliding into the car Wayne had once given me with matching license plates, the cold voice of the system filled my head, and dizziness overtook me. "Host, your departure time has arrived. Countdown: three, two, one…" I closed my eyes. From that moment on, Arden Sharpe no longer existed in this world.

I thought about the velvet boxes with their worn clasps, the evidence of hands that had opened and closed them many times. I thought about Miranda's voice, no longer reachable, the last thing she had said before the number went dark. Something feels off. The timing. Things not adding up. The string quartet shifted into something minor and the room continued its expensive performance around me and I stood in the middle of it holding my champagne and felt the specific sensation of becoming invisible in a room full of light. When the last guests finally departed, their cars taking the driveway curve with the satisfied ease of people who had gotten what they came for, the ballroom settled into t

all over again. The End.