Echoes Of Us

Songs To Stories Volume VIII

Inspired by: Timeless (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift

They met in the hush of candlelight and corsets. On war-torn fields where everything was lost but them. On ships bound for nowhere, in shadows cast by chandeliers, beneath Paris skies and prairie stars. They brushed fingertips beneath gaslit lamplight. Whispered names in languages long forgotten. Found each other in alleyways and ballrooms, temples and trenches.

Always strangers. Always soulmates. Always just a heartbeat away from ruin.

The world changed around them—empires fell, cities burned, oceans rose, and still they found each other. Two souls orbiting endlessly, pulled together by something older than history and stronger than death. No matter the century, no matter the form, no matter how long it took—their love returned.

And every time, the universe asked the same question:
Will this be the life where they get to stay?

This is a story of love across lifetimes. Of memories that slip through fingers like silk and still somehow remain. Of echoes that linger in dreams, in glances, in the unexplainable ache of déjà vu. Of two hearts bound by something greater than time—fate, maybe, or something even more impossible.

A story stitched into the seams of history.

Of tragedy after tragedy. And still—tenderness.

Of hope after heartbreak. And still—longing.

Of love, again and again.

And this time—this time—they’re here. In the now. Breathing the same air. Speaking the same language. Waking up in the same world.

With a chance to get it right.

Finally.

EXCERPT FROM Echoes Of Us BY BRITT WOLFE

The station was all light and shadow and sound.

Sunlight filtered through the tall arched windows in long, golden beams, dust spinning slowly within them like snow in a shaken snow globe. The stone columns stood sentinel along the perimeter of the grand hall, each one reaching toward a ceiling so high it seemed to carry the echoes of the past.

She stood near the far window, bundled in a camel-coloured coat, hands curled around a paper cup of black coffee that had long since gone cold. Around her, the world pressed forward—travellers rushing home, lovers reuniting with breathless embraces, children twirling in the open space as pigeons flapped lazily above the marble.

But she didn’t move. Not yet.

There was something in the stillness here. Something old. Something watchful.

And then, she saw him.

He was standing beneath the departures board, unmoving. One hand in the pocket of his coat, the other curled loosely around the strap of a worn leather satchel. He wasn’t remarkable at first glance—tall, with the wind still in his hair and something about him that felt a little misplaced, like he hadn’t yet landed in this century. But it wasn’t his presence that caught her.

It was the feeling.

The kind that grips you in the ribs before your mind can name it. The way your body knows before your heart dares to hope.

And then he looked at her.

Their eyes met across the distance.

And the world… tipped.

Just slightly. Like a painting gone crooked. Like time itself had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale.

She didn’t know him.

But she knew him.

Her skin flushed cold and warm at once, a static hum beginning at the base of her spine and crawling upward.

He blinked, once. Took a step forward.

She mirrored him without thinking.

And then—

A crowd passed between them. The moment shattered like glass.

When the space cleared, he was gone.

Only the whisper in her bones remained—that she had just missed something she’d been waiting lifetimes to find.

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More From Britt Wolfe’s Songs To Stories Series:

Britt Wolfe

Britt Wolfe writes emotionally devastating fiction with the precision of a heart surgeon and the recklessness of someone who definitely shouldn’t be trusted with sharp objects. Her stories explore love, loss, and the complicated mess of being human. If you enjoy books that punch you in the feelings and then politely offer you a Band-Aid, you’re in the right place.

https://bio.site/brittwolfeauthor
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