eighteen

As I stepped into the unfamiliar restaurant, I couldn't help but notice the curious gazes from the other waiters. It seemed that my dress had caught their attention. Spotting John across the room, I made my way towards him. His eyes met mine, and I could sense his appreciation for the outfit I had chosen. Joining him at the table, he couldn't help but compliment me, saying that the dress perfectly suited my blue eyes. His words caused a warm blush to spread across my cheeks, and I gratefully replied with a sincere "thank you."

We sat in comfortable silence as we savored our meal, enjoying the exquisite flavors that the fancy restaurant had to offer. Glancing around, I realized that we were the only ones present in the establishment. It was an unexpected and somewhat surreal experience to have the entire restaurant to ourselves, with no waiters or other guests in sight. Even the people who brought the food had left.

Once our plates were empty, John broke the silence and began to engage in conversation. His words carried a sense of anticipation, as if he had something important or meaningful to share.

"Can you tell me what's going on with your aunt and you?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes. I looked at him, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration. "I don't know why she locked me up," I replied honestly. "This is the first time she's ever done something like this."i was telling the truth. Not even in the future she didn't hit me or locked me.

John's expression turned even more concerned upon hearing my response. "I'm sorry to hear that, Elenore," he said softly. "It's troubling that your aunt would suddenly isolate you like this. Is there anything that might have triggered such behavior? Maybe it has something to do with your proposal to me?"

I paused, meeting his gaze. Initially, I had considered denying it, but I knew he would see through my lie. "Perhaps," I admitted reluctantly. John continued, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Elenore, why did you propose to me? I know you love Gabriel. Is this some kind of joke that's gone too far?"

I quickly raised my hand to stop him. "I am not in love with Gabriel," I asserted, my voice firm. John let out a laugh, clearly skeptical. "You expect me to believe that you don't love Gabriel?" he questioned, a hint of playfulness in his tone. I knew this would sound crazy, considering I had loved Gabriel. I had even died for him at the age of 18 in the future. But I couldn't reveal that to John.

"I'm telling the truth, John," I insisted, hoping he would trust me. He studied my face intently and then spoke softly, still unsure. "Elenore, this isn't a joke. I know you've liked Gabriel since childhood, and now, because of what you said to provoke him, you proposed to me. Please, tell me what's really going on."

"I understand why you might think that, John," I replied, my voice tinged with sadness. "But I assure you, my proposal to you was not an attempt to make Gabriel jealous or to play a joke on him. There's something much bigger at play here, something I haven't been able to fully explain."

John's expression softened as he listened, his concern evident. "Elenore, I care about you deeply, and I want to understand what you're going through. Please, tell me what's really happening."

But I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I felt trapped, unable to reveal the truth to him. "John, I can't say anything about this," I admitted, my voice filled with frustration and helplessness.

John's frustration grew as he tried to make sense of my behavior. "Elenore, you're acting so differently lately," he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. "You're not yelling at me like a spoiled kid, you're not fighting back, and you're treating the maid like a human being. And yesterday, you jumped off the balcony. Now your maid handed me a letter. What the hell is going on?"

The room seemed to spin as his words echoed in my ears. The dizziness overwhelmed me. The truth was heavy on my shoulders, but I knew I couldn't reveal it. İ don't want people to look at me like I'm crazy.

"I... I can't explain it right now," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "There are things happening that I can't fully understand myself. Please, John."

"Elenore, maybe I can understand. Can you trust me?" John asked, his voice filled with sincerity. I nodded slowly, realizing that it was time to share the unexplainable truth with him. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for his reaction.

"John," I began, my voice trembling slightly, "I know what I'm about to say sounds unbelievable, but I come from the future." His eyes widened in astonishment, and a moment of silence hung between us as he processed my words.

I continued, my voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination, "In the future, Gabriel and Alice conspired to ruin my reputation, and they succeeded. It led me to a point where I felt so trapped and hopeless that I took my own life. Their plan was set in motion just yesterday. Three years from now, when I turn 18, they will ruin me and i kill myself.I understand how absurd this all sounds," I said, my voice quivering. "That's why I proposed to you. "

Tears streamed down my face, staining my dress, as I recalled the pain and desperation that had led me to this moment. John's expression reflected a range of emotions, from shock to concern.

"Wait....., what? Okay,..... this is a lot to process," John said, his voice filled with concern as he looked at me. I nodded, understanding the overwhelming nature of the information I had just shared.

"You're saying that in three years, when you turn 18, something significant happens?" John asked, seeking confirmation. I nodded again, my heart pounding in my chest.

But then he said something that confused me. "Elenore, you are 18 right now," he stated firmly. I stared at him, my confusion evident. Was he playing a cruel joke on me? "John, I know you won't believe this," I began, my voice trembling, "You're 18, but I'm not."

John interrupted my words, his expression serious. "Elenore, trust me on this. You are 18 years old. Think about it. What age do you believe you are right now?"

I looked at him with a mixture of concern and disbelief. "John, I remember my age. I know I'm 15, and you're 18. Stop making fun of me," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

John's voice softened as he tried to explain further. "Elenore, I need you to listen carefully. I am 21 years old, and you are 18. Three years ago, I attended your 15th birthday. Please, try to remember."

Dizziness washed over me as his words sank in. I couldn't comprehend what he was saying, but then he showed me a newspaper that confirmed his claims. My mind raced, trying to reconcile the memories I thought were true with this new information.

"No, it can't be. if I was 18, I was supposed to marry Gabriel, right?" I exclaimed, desperately clinging to the fragments of my previous reality.

But as I spoke, darkness began to cloud my vision. I felt a sharp pain in my head, and blood started to trickle from my nose and mouth. Panic surged through me, and then everything went black.

I found myself lying on the floor, my surroundings blurry. John was kneeling beside me. The room spun around me, and I struggled to piece together the shattered fragments of my memories.

As reality shattered before me, I realized that something had gone terribly wrong. The truth had been hidden from me, and I was left to navigate a twisted web of time and identity.