Lost Time, Found Love: Ava’s Return

The first thing I felt was the slow, steady beep of a machine.

I opened my eyes to a sterile white ceiling, definitely not my bedroom.

A nurse rushed in, dropping her clipboard, whispering, "She' s awake!"

Then a doctor: "Mrs. Hayes? Ava? Can you tell me your name?"

"Ava Reed... Ava Hayes."

"And the year?"

"2023. It' s October."

Their pitying looks made my skin crawl. "Ava," the doctor said gently, "It' s not 2023."

He pointed to a digital screen: July 12, 2038.

Fifteen years. Gone. Just like that.