The following day, Alice approached George with a newfound determination. "I want to stay," she told him, her voice steady. "I don't know how or why I'm here, but I feel like this is where I'm meant to be."


George's eyes searched hers, a mix of hope and confusion playing across his features. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion. "You can't just leave your life behind."


Alice took his hand, her own resolve unwavering. "What if this isn't just a dream?" she said softly. "What if we're meant to be together? I want to build a life with you and Timmy, here in this town. In this time."


George's gaze searched hers, the hope in his eyes growing. "But what about your life in the future?" he asked, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "What if you wake up again?"


"Then I'll deal with that when it comes," Alice replied, a firmness in her voice. "For now, I choose this. I choose you and Timmy."


George's eyes searched hers, a tumult of emotions playing across his handsome face. Then, with a gentle squeeze of her hand, he nodded. "Okay," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Let's make the most of this."


The following morning, Alice woke up with a start, her heart racing. The mint green cabinets and ticking wall clock were gone, replaced by the stark white walls and digital readout of her New York City apartment. Janet's snores echoed through the thin walls, and the smell of burnt toast wafted from the kitchen. It was a stark and depressing contrast to the life she had grown to love in the 1950s town.


Her heart sank as she took in her surroundings. The dream had been so vivid, so real, that she almost expected to find George and Timmy in the living room, waiting for breakfast. But the emptiness of her apartment was a stabbing reminder that she was back in her own time. The bed felt cold and unwelcoming without George's warmth beside her.


With a heavy heart, Alice forced herself to get ready for the day. As she applied her makeup, the reflection in the mirror was no longer the soft, happy housewife but the tired, cynical New Yorker she had always been. The dress and pearls had been replaced with her usual black pantsuit, the smell of lavender soap replaced by the harsh chemical scent of her usual brand.


In an attempt to shake off the feeling of loss, she decided to go to the nearby coffee shop to clear her mind. The bustle of the city was a stark contrast to the quiet streets of the town she had left behind. The barista called out her order, and she grabbed the cup, the heat seeping through the cardboard. As she turned to leave, she bumped into a man who was reaching for a newspaper. The collision was minor, but the shock was electric.


He looked exactly like George, with the same piercing blue eyes and kind smile. For a moment, Alice was lost, her heart racing as she searched his face for some sign that he recognized her too. But the man just offered a polite apology and went back to his paper, seemingly unfazed by the collision. She stood there, frozen, staring at him as he sipped his coffee and thumbed through the pages, his elbow resting casually on the counter.


The absence of a wedding ring on his finger was like a beacon of hope. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. This could be it. This could be the man from her dreams. She had to know for sure. "Excuse me," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Would you like to join me for coffee?"


The man looked up from his paper, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. He took a moment to consider her offer before nodding. "Sure," he said, setting the paper aside. "I've got time."


As they sat down at a table by the window, Alice's heart thudded in her chest. He was George, she was sure of it. The way he tapped his fingers against the table, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—it was all so familiar. They talked for hours, their conversation flowing easily as if they had known each other for a lifetime. He spoke of his work as a journalist, the stories he covered, and his dreams of writing a book. It was a different life from the one she had seen in her dreams, but the essence of him remained the same.


The man, who introduced himself as Henry, listened intently as Alice spoke of her job in marketing and her love for the anonymity of the city. Yet, as they talked, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had done this before. That she had sat across from him in a kitchen, not a coffee shop, serving him a cup of coffee she had made with her own hands.


As the months passed, Alice found herself drawn to Henry, his kindness and patience reminding her of the George she had left behind. The town had been a mirage, but the love she had felt there was real. They grew closer, sharing dinners, movies, and long walks through the park. The chemistry between them was undeniable, a spark that grew with every shared smile and touch.


One year later, Alice lay on a soft table, her hand in Henry's, staring at the flickering screen. The sound of a tiny heartbeat filled the air, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo her own racing pulse. The technician's voice was a gentle hum as she pointed out the features of their unborn child. "It's a boy," she said, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.


Alice felt a tear slip down her cheek, the weight of the past year's events pressing down on her. She had chosen this life, chosen Henry, and now they were about to become parents together. She looked up at Henry, his eyes filled with wonder and excitement, and knew she had made the right choice. The love she had felt in her dream had transcended time and found a new home in this reality.


"What should we name him?" Henry asked, his voice filled with the same gentle warmth she had heard in George's.


Alice looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Timothy," she murmured. It was the name that had been whispering in her heart since the moment she had seen the first flutter of life on the ultrasound screen. It was a name that held the essence of the dream she had left behind but was now becoming a reality in this new life she had chosen.