You end up back in the House, in your bedroom. Only now it’s set up for just one again, the way you’ve always remembered it.
It looks as if it’s still the middle of the night – probably just a few seconds after you left in the first place. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep, you think to yourself, but exhaustion – emotional if not physical – overwhelms you. Instead of bed you fall into the armchair in the corner, asleep almost before your butt hits the cushion.
You wake up mid-morning. You wander around the House and find Father, eventually, sitting in one of the armchairs in the drawing room, reading a book.
“So you haven’t gotten Inez back yet," he says without greeting. Without looking up from his book.
You shake your head. “She … she wasn’t interested.”
“You could always go back and try again,” he suggests.
“Would it end up any different?”
“There’s no guarantee that it would.”
You feel your weariness weighing you down. “Since I don’t have any memories of being married to Inez, it’s hard for me to get all worked up about it.”
Father says nothing, but lifts an eyebrow at you.
“Besides,” you say, “it’s time travel. I can always try again next week.”
“Or next year,” Father says.
You nod. “Or never.”
And you fall silent again, with absolutely no idea what to do next.
THE END