Love: The Hidden Quantum Particle 

 Time, at its best, is a moment spent in love.
At its worst ... gone and forgotten.

But time is nothing, Finn
nothing without you to witness it.

The universe didn’t need us to conquer it.
It needed us to see it.
To love.
To make time  visible
and yes, to save it
from our own misgivings.

Attributed to Professor Harold Clems.

Time moves forward—one way, always, inexorably—

much to the sorrow of human desire.  In Love: The Hidden Quantum Particle, author Wayne Grabowski explores time travel not as escape but as redemption: a journey across timelines where love and science must converge, and time learns to forgive. 

A literary time-travel novel exploring love, science, and the possibility of rewriting destiny.

Because you may deserve a second kiss. 

Journey with Harold, Finn and Sawyer through love, science, and time on Substack. 

New chapters of Love: The Hidden Quantum Particle appear first on Substack, where story, science, and emotion meet.

Read the latest at waynegrabowski.substack.com 

A woman intercepted him. Sapphire dress. Updated flapper. Beautiful in every way ... arriving softly, without asking. Her chin-length bob, dark and glossy, curled inward, inviting focus. Eyes the color of tidewater blue ... curious, clear, calmly searching. She didn’t provoke admiration; she claimed it and offered it back like a gift. Maybe twenty. Maybe not. Composed. Amused. Floating, yet somehow grounding everything around her.  You don’t want to miss Vera. 

Meet her on Substack.

Follow Wayne on Substack → https://waynegrabowski.substack.com 

 Excerpt from Chapter 9

It was like a final variable falling into place. The cracks responded at first slowing, then retreating, then beginning to seal. The infinite present was stabilizing into a normal timeline.

                                                                                    Past tacket bonded to present tacket bonded to future tacket.

Harold’s mind strained. He pushed past the threshold of thought into something purer, presence itself. He could feel Finn’s urgency, Sawyer’s steadiness, and something greater than both.

Time responded.

But so did his body. Harold staggered. It wasn’t pain. It was unraveling. His life energy draining, pouring into his wavelength. His cells bonds losing cohesion. His mind stretching thin. His physical body spent in a final act of union with the fabric of wavelength’s reality.

He did not cry out. He did not resist.

He had given his life to understand the universe. Now, he would give it to save it.

Finn reached toward him in the mind-space. He felt her fear. He wanted to comfort her. To say something. But words were dissolving now. Sawyer tried to anchor him. It was too late.

His final thought, before the light overtook him, was not of theory. It was of his wife, Margaret. His true love. Her smile at the lakeside. Her voice reading aloud. Her hand in his. Not his equations. Only Margaret and their love.

And then, Harold Clems was gone.

The cracks in space-time closed. The synchrotron powered down.

And in the silence that followed, Finn and Sawyer remained still. Eyes open, but changed. The universe held. There would be no celebration. As they leapt from their seats, yanking off the headsets in one synchronized motion, their elation froze. Stunned into reverent silence. Nothing would ever be the same.

Harold’s body, still seated, remained upright. Peaceful. Still.

Finn and Sawyer knew. His last, desperate push had propelled his wavelength into a gap just as it closed.

His body was lifeless. But content.

Finn had dropped to her knees. Now her head rested in his lifeless lap, her shoulders shaking, silent sobs spilling out in waves. Sawyer knelt beside her, one knee on the floor. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Then he whispered the only comfort that mattered. A comfort no priest, no rabbi, no shaman could offer. Only a physicist.

“His wavelength is still out there,” he said softly. “He’s still alive.”