Y / N’s  P O V
I blinked, disoriented, the sharp scent of metal and musty air filling my nostrils. My lashes were damp, and as I opened my eyes, I found myself bathed in the cold, artificial glow of overhead lights. My heart stuttered in confusion as I scanned the room. It was achingly familiar yet alien, the kind of familiarity that stabbed at old wounds. My father’s lab. The air felt heavier here, suffocating, as though it carried the weight of time itself.

I shifted, feeling the rigid, unyielding metal beneath me—the time machine. My fingers brushed its frame, now rough and dulled, a thin veil of dust coating its once-pristine surface. It hadn’t been used in ages, maybe not even touched. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. This place, this machine… no one had believed I’d come back.