The days blurred together, each one tethering him closer to something he couldn’t afford to hold onto.

She still came every evening, her presence as steady as the ticking of time.

But now, every glance she threw his way, every casual smile, every careless joke — felt like a knife pressed against his throat.

Because he could see it.

The threads of fate tightening around her.

The past was pulling at the present, and he knew how this story ended.

She would die.

Because of him.

Again.

And yet, when she showed up that evening, waving a book in his face with that usual grin, he did nothing to stop her.

“Guess what?” she said, plopping onto the bench beside him. “I got you something!”

He raised a brow. “I don’t need anything.”

“Too bad,” she shot back, thrusting the book into his lap. “It’s an old one, but I saw it and thought of you.”

He looked down.

The cover was worn, the pages slightly yellowed with age.

Reincarnation and the Threads of Fate.

His fingers curled around the edges before he could stop himself.

Of course.

She didn’t know the truth, and yet somehow, she kept getting closer.

Too close.

“Figured it might be your kind of thing,” she said, leaning back. “You give off ‘I’ve lived a hundred years and seen the rise and fall of empires’ vibes.”

He stiffened.

She laughed. “Relax, it was a joke. But seriously, the book is about past lives and people being connected across time. Cool, right?”

Cool?

It was his existence.

He swallowed the bitterness in his throat and forced himself to look away. “I don’t read.”

She scoffed. “You totally read. I can tell.”

“Then you’re wrong.”

She grinned. “Nope. I can see it in your eyes. You’re a tragic, poetic type.”

He let out a breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am,” she said, swinging her legs lightly. “So? Are you gonna read it?”

He hesitated.

A mistake.

Because in that tiny moment of hesitation, she saw something.

Something in his silence.

Her smile faded, just slightly.

“You know,” she murmured, “sometimes, I feel like you understand things way too deeply. Like… like you already know the answers before anyone even asks the question.”

His chest tightened.

She didn’t know how right she was.

She let out a soft chuckle, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Maybe we really did know each other in another life.”

He froze.

“You ever think about that?” she continued, completely unaware of the storm she was stirring inside him. “What if we were strangers? Or enemies? Or — “

She paused.

For a moment, her playful expression faltered, her eyes flickering with something else.

Something uncertain.

“Or… maybe something else.”

The world felt too quiet.

He should say something. He should end this conversation. He should —

“Would it change anything?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She blinked.

“If we knew each other before,” he said, voice unreadable, “would it change anything now?”

A breeze passed between them.

She stared at him, her fingers tightening around the bench.

Then, she smiled — but this time, it was softer.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I think… I’d still want to know you.”

His breath hitched.

And suddenly, it happened.

The world around him flickered.

Reality unravelled for just a second — just long enough for a memory to bleed through.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A Past Life — The 12th Cycle

The lanterns above cast a golden glow over the small village, their soft flickering light barely reaching the edges of the darkened forest beyond.

He stood by the riverbank, his hands stained with blood — but not his own.

She was in front of him, eyes wide with betrayal.

“Why?” she whispered.

His chest heaved.

“Why would you protect me?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “After everything — after all the times we’ve fought — why now?”

The bodies of those who had come for her lay around them, lifeless. He had made sure of it.

But he didn’t answer her question.

Because he didn’t know.

He only knew that when he saw her in danger, he could not let her die.

She took a step closer, her fingers trembling. “Tell me.”

He exhaled.

“If you had died tonight,” he murmured, “I think… I would have regretted it.”

She gasped softly.

He turned away. “Forget this ever happened.”

She reached out, her fingertips barely brushing his sleeve.

“But I won’t,” she whispered.

And he knew she wouldn’t.

Not in this life.

Not in the next.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The vision shattered, and he was back in the present.

His breathing was unsteady.

She was still sitting beside him, unaware of what had just unfolded in his mind.

But the weight of it was suffocating.

This wasn’t just a past mistake.

It wasn’t just guilt.

This was fate tightening its hold.

The lives they had lived. The paths they had crossed. The blood that had been spilled between them.

It wasn’t over.

It was never over.

And now, she was here again.

Alive. Unaware.

And dangerously close to breaking the cycle he had spent sixteen lifetimes trying to escape.

He had to stop this.

Before fate claimed her again.

Before he did.