Son, I’m sorry that I gave you birth in this poor family. Just be there with me for a little more, okay? Soon, I will take you to your new home and give you the life that you deserve. And once all of these is over, then I will come back to you very soon. Promise me that you won’t forget your mother, okay? Take care, my son.

A cold wind brushed against him, jolting him awake. His eyes fluttered open, his body drenched in sweat.

I wonder if mom is still fighting for me after all these years, these centuries? Of course she won’t. She didn’t fulfil her promise. But I also didn’t wait for you, mom. I’m sorry mom. I am a really bad son, aren’t I?

Every day, he sits on the same park bench, silently observing everything around him.

It’s a routine he never breaks — disconnected from the world, lost in his thoughts, and haunted by the memories of past sixteen lives.

Over time, he has become distant, a man with a heart turned cold, untouched by the world around him. But the fate has decided to play its own game.

The late afternoon sun bathed the park in a golden glow, its light flickering through the swaying branches of the old oak trees. A soft breeze rustled the fallen leaves, carrying the distant laughter of children playing by the swings. He sat on the same weathered bench, just as he did every day, lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

Then, out of nowhere, a voice broke through the silence. “Hey, mister! Are you lost by any chance?”

A girl stood before him, her eyes filled with curiosity and mischief. She had a small frame, a lively presence, and an energy that starkly contrasted with his stillness. Her head tilted slightly as she waited for a response. But he didn’t even flinch, his eyes still lost in the void of his own mind. It was as if she didn’t exist, as if her voice had been carried away by the wind before it could reach him.

After a few moments of silence, she sighed. “Hmph. Rude,” she mumbled under her breath before turning on her heels and walking away.

The next day, as the golden hues of dusk painted the sky once again, she returned. This time, she wasn’t empty-handed. In her grasp was a small bouquet of wildflowers — daisies, violets, and a few sunflowers that seemed too bright for the melancholic setting. She walked up to him with the same boldness as before, waving the flowers slightly.

“Hey, mister,” she called again, her voice softer yet persistent. “Are you lost?”

Again, he remained silent.

But this time, she didn’t leave right away. She plopped down beside him, placing the flowers between them on the bench.

“I’ve been following you for more than a month, you know,” she continued, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “You come here every single day, sit on this very bench, and do absolutely nothing. No phone, no book, no company. Just staring at… well, whatever it is you’re staring at.” She sighed, tapping her fingers on her knee. “So, tell me. Are you lost? Don’t you have a home to go to?”

Silence.

He still didn’t respond. He didn’t even glance at her.

But for some reason, the lack of an answer didn’t deter her. Instead, she simply sat there with him. She didn’t try to fill the silence with words anymore, nor did she attempt to pry further. The two of them just sat side by side, listening to the distant hum of life around them — the rustling trees, the occasional chirping of crickets, the murmuring voices of passersby.

As the sky darkened and the streetlights flickered on, she finally stood up, brushing off the dust from her skirt.

“Well, see you tomorrow, mister,” she said, stretching her arms. Then, without waiting for a reply, she walked away, leaving the small bouquet of flowers on the bench beside him.

And so, it continued.

Every day, she came back. Sometimes with flowers, sometimes with snacks she never really expected him to eat. She talked, laughed, and sometimes simply sat in silence. And every day, he remained the same — silent, unmoved.

And somehow, without realizing it, her presence began to disturb the stillness of his world.