Adolf's POV
The sky was on fire.
Not the beautiful kind of fire that painted sunsets across the horizon. Not the warm glow of a fireplace during winter.
This was war.
The kind of fire that swallowed villages whole.
The kind that turned boys into corpses.
The kind that made grown men cry for their mothers.
The earth shook beneath Adolf Hitler's boots as another shell exploded somewhere beyond the trenches.
Mud splashed onto his uniform.
The smell of blood, smoke, and wet soil filled the air.
For a moment, he closed his eyes.
Everything hurt.
His shoulders hurt.
His legs hurt.
His hands hurt.
Even breathing hurt.
Yet he continued forward.
Because stopping meant death.
And Adolf Hitler had no intention of dying today.
Around him, soldiers shouted.
Some prayed.
Some screamed.
Some simply stared into nothingness with hollow eyes.
War had stolen something from every man here.
For some, it was their future.
For others, it was their humanity.
Adolf wasn't sure what it had stolen from him.
Perhaps he would find out one day.
If he survived.
A distant explosion echoed across the battlefield.
Then another.
And another.
The ground trembled violently.
"Move!"
Someone shouted.
Adolf turned.
Too late.
The world exploded.
A blinding flash consumed everything.
Heat slammed into him.
His body flew backward.
Pain ripped through every nerve.
The sky disappeared.
The battlefield disappeared.
The screams disappeared.
Everything became white.
Then black.
And then—
Nothing.
---
Anaya's POV
Twenty-One Years Later
The sound of her alarm filled the apartment.
Anaya ignored it.
Five minutes later, it rang again.
She ignored it.
Ten minutes later, it rang once more.
Still ignored.
Finally, after the fourth alarm, she blindly grabbed her phone and threw it across the room.
Silence.
"Perfect."
She rolled over and pulled the blanket over her head.
University could wait.
Everything could wait.
Life had waited for her long enough.
Another hour passed.
Then another.
At exactly eleven forty-three in the morning, Anaya Blackwell finally opened her eyes.
She stared at the ceiling.
A crack stretched across it.
She had been meaning to call someone about that.
For three months.
Maybe four.
Eventually.
Yawning, she sat up.
Her apartment looked exactly how she had left it.
Books scattered across the floor.
Empty snack wrappers.
Half-finished assignments.
A laundry basket overflowing with clothes.
A cactus on the windowsill somehow surviving despite receiving less attention than a forgotten houseplant in a horror movie.
Anaya stared at it.
"You're stronger than me."
The cactus remained silent.
Rude.
Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled toward the bathroom.
The mirror greeted her with dark circles and messy black hair.
Fantastic.
A true masterpiece.
Her grandmother would've scolded her.
The thought made her pause.
For a second, the apartment felt quieter.
Empty.
Lonelier.
Her grandmother had died a month ago.
Yet sometimes Anaya still expected to hear her voice.
Still expected to smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen.
Still expected to come home and find someone waiting.
Instead—
There was silence.
Always silence.
Anaya looked away from the mirror.
She hated silence.
Because silence allowed memories to speak.
And memories were cruel.
---
By twelve thirty, she was rushing across campus with a coffee in one hand and regret in the other.
Students moved around her.
Laughing.
Talking.
Living.
Anaya wondered how they made it look so easy.
A professor glared at her as she slipped into class twenty minutes late.
Again.
"Miss Blackwell."
Oops.
"Good afternoon, Professor."
The class laughed.
Anaya smiled.
The professor did not.
---
Three hours later, she was free.
Or at least free enough.
Unfortunately, adulthood had invented something called bills.
Which meant she had to go to work.
A tragedy.
A genuine tragedy.
With the enthusiasm of a prisoner heading toward execution, Anaya made her way toward the café.
The small bell above the door chimed as she entered.
Immediately, she felt a pair of eyes on her.
Uh-oh.
---
Azul's POV
Late.
Again.
Azul Dirac stood behind the counter watching Anaya enter.
She looked exhausted.
Half asleep.
And entirely unapologetic.
Just like always.
"You're forty-seven minutes late."
Anaya dropped her bag onto a chair.
"I came, didn't I?"
"That wasn't my question."
"It should have been."
Azul pinched the bridge of his nose.
Some people were impossible.
Anaya was those people.
All of them.
Combined.
Yet despite her terrible punctuality and questionable life choices, she was surprisingly good with customers.
People liked her.
They trusted her.
They smiled around her.
Azul didn't understand why.
Perhaps because she never pretended to be someone she wasn't.
Humans appreciated honesty.
Even accidental honesty.
Anaya tied her apron.
"Coffee?"
"You already had three."
"Exactly."
A pause.
"Coffee?"
Azul sighed.
"Fine."
Victory.
The menace smiled.
Azul immediately regretted everything.
---
The afternoon passed quietly.
Customers came and went.
Orders were taken.
Coffee was served.
Anaya somehow managed to nearly trip over absolutely nothing.
Twice.
By evening, rain clouds had gathered above the city.
Dark.
Heavy.
Waiting.
Azul noticed them immediately.
His expression hardened.
Rain.
Wonderful.
Just wonderful.
He hated rain.
More than hated.
Feared.
Avoided.
Resented.
The reason remained buried beneath years of secrets.
Secrets no human could ever know.
Especially Anaya.
---
Adolf's POV
Pain.
That was the first thing he felt.
Pain everywhere.
His eyes opened slowly.
The world was blurry.
Bright lights burned overhead.
Strange sounds echoed around him.
Nothing looked familiar.
Nothing.
He pushed himself upright.
His entire body screamed in protest.
Where was he?
This wasn't the battlefield.
This wasn't Germany.
This wasn't anywhere he recognized.
Towering buildings surrounded him.
Glass.
Metal.
Lights.
The air smelled different.
Cleaner.
Yet somehow colder.
People walked past him.
Most ignored him.
Some stared.
One person raised a strange rectangular object toward him.
A camera.
Though Adolf had no idea what that was.
His heartbeat accelerated.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
He stood.
Nearly collapsed.
Caught himself.
Then stared at a massive glowing screen attached to a building.
Images moved across it.
Moving photographs.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Fear crept into his chest.
For the first time since arriving, Adolf felt genuinely afraid.
Not of bullets.
Not of death.
But of the unknown.
Because whatever had happened—
He wasn't supposed to be here.
---
Anaya's POV
Closing shift.
Her least favorite words.
By the time the café finally closed, it was nearly midnight.
Rain poured outside.
Anaya groaned dramatically.
"Why?"
The universe offered no explanation.
Typical.
She zipped her jacket.
Grabbed her bag.
And stepped into the storm.
The streets were mostly empty.
Streetlights reflected off wet pavement.
Cars rushed past.
Thunder growled overhead.
Anaya walked quickly.
All she wanted was her bed.
Her wonderful, beautiful bed.
Then she saw him.
A man.
Standing alone.
In the middle of the rain.
Wearing clothing that looked completely out of place.
His blond hair clung to his forehead.
Mud stained his uniform.
Blood stained his sleeves.
And his eyes—
His eyes looked lost.
Truly lost.
Not confused.
Not distracted.
Lost.
Like someone had taken his entire world away.
The sight stopped her.
For a brief moment, neither moved.
The rain fell around them.
The city noise faded.
And something strange passed between them.
Recognition.
Though they had never met.
A chill ran down Anaya's spine.
The man took a step forward.
Then another.
His gaze never left hers.
"Excuse me..." he said slowly.
His accent was unfamiliar.
Old-fashioned.
Foreign.
"Where am I?"
Anaya blinked.
Of all the things she expected to hear tonight—
That wasn't one of them.
And for reasons she couldn't explain...
Something told her that this meeting was about to change everything.
Forever.