The Bridge Between Stars

The first time Elara saw him, he was standing on the edge of a dream.

She worked at the Temporal Observatory, a place where scientists studied time fractures that appeared across the galaxy. These fractures looked like mirrors floating in the void, showing glimpses of other realities. Most were unstable, lasting only seconds. But one night, a new fracture appeared, brighter and clearer than any before. Inside it stood a man, staring back at her.

He did not move, but his eyes met hers through the rift. For a moment, she felt as if she were looking into her own reflection, except his world was filled with blue light instead of gold. Then the image vanished.

Elara could not forget him. She replayed the data again and again, searching for clues. According to the readings, his universe existed at a slightly different frequency of time. It was not the past or the future, but something parallel, separated by a barrier thinner than air.

She called him the Echo Man.

Every night, the fracture reopened for a few seconds. She began speaking to it, though she knew he could not hear.

“I wish I could reach you,” she whispered once.

Then, on the twelfth night, he answered.

“I hear you.”

Her breath caught. The rift pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. His voice was faint, distorted, but real.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Orion,” he said. “I am a physicist in my world. We have been watching your sky too. You are our reflection.”

They talked until the fracture closed. When it reopened the next night, both were waiting. They shared stories of their worlds, their suns, their cities. Each time, the connection lasted longer. What began as curiosity turned into friendship, then something more.

One evening, Orion said, “I think our worlds were once one. Something divided them long ago. But maybe we can bridge them again.”

“That would be impossible,” Elara replied softly.

He smiled. “So is falling in love across universes.”

Her heart ached. She had never touched him, yet she felt closer to him than anyone in her own world. They spoke of stars that sang and oceans that glowed, of dreams they could never share. Still, every night, the fracture opened, and they found each other again.

But the scientists at the Observatory noticed the anomaly. The fractures were growing unstable. The more they interacted, the thinner the barrier became. If it broke completely, both universes could collapse.

Elara was ordered to shut the project down.

That night, she told Orion the truth. His face flickered with static. “If they close it, I will never see you again,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered. “But if we keep going, we might destroy everything.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then said quietly, “Then let me cross.”

“No,” she cried. “The energy would kill you.”

“Better to die reaching for you than live without you.”

The alarms blared as the fracture began to destabilize. Light poured through the chamber, bright and violent. Elara ran to the console, tears streaming down her face. “Please,” she whispered, “do not come through.”

But Orion stepped forward. His hand reached through the barrier, dissolving into light. For an instant, she felt warmth against her skin, like the touch of a star. Then he was gone. The rift collapsed, leaving only silence.

The Observatory sealed the chamber. The event was erased from the records. But Elara kept a single fragment of crystal that had fallen from the rift. It glowed faintly when she held it, as if something inside still remembered him.

Years passed. One night, as she stood beneath the real stars, the crystal began to shine brighter. A voice, soft and distant, echoed inside her mind.

“Elara.”

She looked up. The sky split open with light, not violent this time but gentle, like a sunrise.

“I found the bridge,” he said.

She smiled through her tears. “Then I am coming home.”

And when she stepped into the light, the stars folded around them, two souls finally crossing the distance between worlds.