✮✮✮✮✮✮✮/5 stars
ARC REVIEW ⋆⭒˚.⋆
This book was more than a story, it was an unraveling of love and time, a weaving of souls bound by fate and persistence. It’s a novel that whispers of second chances and what it truly means to be chosen, again and again, even when the world seems determined to pull two people apart.
I’m going to miss reading this, because finishing it felt like losing a piece of myself I hadn’t realized had already taken root in its pages. I really loved this book, not in the casual sense of enjoying a story, but in the way that it left fingerprints on my heart. It healed me in places I didn’t even know were bruised, uncovering wounds of people-pleasing, of self-doubt, of longing to be seen and loved wholly for who I am. And somehow, in the gentlest and most unexpected ways, it reminded me that healing is possible, even from the hurts you’ve carried silently.
I swear, Mr. Whiskers must have orchestrated this whole story like some sort of magic cat (if you know, you know). Because nothing else explains the slowest slow burn I have ever read in my life. And yet, it wasn’t frustrating, it was transformative. Every page felt like a careful build, a steady unraveling of a bond that had always been there, waiting, lingering, glowing quietly until it couldn’t be ignored anymore. I was literally melting with every chapter. The scenes were crafted with such perfection that I kept sobbing, overwhelmed with emotions I didn’t want to put down. This wasn’t just a book, it was an experience.
Sebastian and Genevieve aren’t just characters. They’re soulmates. They embody the red string theory, tethered across time and space, proving that love isn’t about chance but inevitability. The title itself says it all: time after time. Sebastian will choose her, over and over and over again. That kind of devotion, that kind of constancy, it doesn’t just warm your heart, it reshapes it. And honestly? If my future boyfriend isn’t like Sebastian, then I don’t want him. Sebastian is the greenest of green flags. The way he believes in Genevieve when she can’t even believe in herself, the way he steadies her, reassures her, loves her, he’s the embodiment of the partner we all secretly (or not so secretly) dream of.
But love in this book wasn’t portrayed as easy. It was powerful, unruly, consuming. It’s something that must be shared and released, or else it burns everything in its path. The story tested my patience in the most beautiful way, making me question what love should look like. Because how could they say “we’re just friends” while living in a rhythm that screamed intimacy? The forehead kisses, the way he holds her by the waist, hugs her like she’s the anchor of his world, comforts her daily, tell me that isn’t love.
The time travel element made me ache. Because sometimes you do need that impossible chance to go back, to risk it all by finally saying the words you’ve swallowed for too long. And when Genevieve kept that album of childhood pictures, my heart broke and healed at the same time. It was her quiet way of holding onto him, to them, even when words failed.
I adored the literary threads woven throughout. References to Persuasion and Pride and Prejudice, it was like the author reaching out to all of us who understand that literature is love language too. And when the photobooth scene happened? I nearly screamed, because photobooths are my soft spot. It wasn’t just cute, it was eternal, a tangible fragment of their love preserved in pictures.
Sebastian, once again, showed himself as the man who looks for Genevieve in every crowd, the man who reassures her like it’s his second nature, the man who helps her find her passion and calm the storms inside her. Reading his presence was like being reminded that love doesn’t need to be grandiose, it just needs to be consistent, steady, and real.
And Genevieve, her people-pleasing tendencies, her need for perfection, her hidden doubts, felt like looking into a mirror. I sobbed because I saw myself in her. That desperate ache of wanting to be enough, of thinking love requires perfection, it’s a wound I’ve carried too. But this book reminded me that love isn’t earned by perfection, it’s given in the cracks, the flaws, the moments when you’re most yourself.
There was a moment that brought back my own pain too, my injury, the helplessness, the sadness of being slowed down in a life that demands so much. Somehow, this book touched that part of me and soothed it, as if saying, “you’re not broken, you’re just healing.” It was personal, deeply so, and I wasn’t prepared for how much it would move me.
The lessons stayed with me long after the last page: that sometimes your soulmate is right in front of you all along, that love must be spoken, that time is both enemy and ally, and that healing often comes through being truly seen.
Even the songs woven into the story, Michael Sembello’s “Maniac,” Billy Joel’s “Vienna,” Adele’s “One and Only,” they became part of the narrative, echoes of the emotions pulsing through each scene.
This book felt like it carried its own soundtrack, and the songs mentioned wove themselves into my reading experience in the most haunting way. Michael Sembello’s “Maniac” mirrored the intensity of Genevieve’s inner battles, the way her heart and mind sometimes danced recklessly between fear and desire, like she was running on the edge of something unstoppable. Billy Joel’s “Vienna” whispered the reminder she needed most that she doesn’t have to rush through life, that slowing down and choosing love is not weakness but strength. Taylor Swift’s “Style” slipped in like an echo of Sebastian and Genevieve’s timeless pull toward each other, a love that feels inevitable, magnetic, impossible to shake no matter how much time tries to pull them apart. And then Adele’s “One and Only” captured the very core of Sebastian’s devotion, his plea wrapped in patience and certainty, as if every word he breathed to her carried the same promise: choose me, I’ll choose you, over and over, one and only. These songs didn’t just appear in the story, they became part of it, amplifying the ache and the healing, until it felt like I wasn’t just reading their love—I was listening to it too.
This book isn’t just for romance readers. It’s for the overthinkers, for those terrified of losing people, for those who carry the weight of being left behind, and for those who need to be reminded that healing is possible. It’s for anyone who needs to know that love, real, patient, enduring love, exists.
I would rate this book seven stars, even though that’s outside my system. It deserves a million, honestly. Because I wasn’t just reading, I was sobbing, healing, and falling apart in the best ways possible. Every hour, every minute, this book had me, and I’ll never forget it.
Tropes :
୨ৎsecond chance at life
୨ৎ the slowest burn you'll ever experience
୨ৎsmall town romance
୨ৎchildhood besties to idiots w/benefits to lovers