The dream felt too vivid to be just sleep.
Aira stood in a field of golden marigolds, the air warm with sunlight and birdsong. But it wasn't the present. The clothes she wore were old—flowing, handwoven—and the land around her bore no buildings, no cars, no signs of modern life.
And then—he was there.
Not Ravi exactly.
But his eyes. His soul.
He approached her, a sword slung across his back, his tunic stained with dust and the weight of war. Yet when he saw her, his entire face softened.
"Aarya," he breathed, as if saying her name would anchor him to this world.
Her heart trembled.
She didn't know this name—but in that moment, it was hers.
"You came back," she whispered.
"I always will," he replied. "Every life, every time, I'll find you."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small silver key. The same one Ravi had given her in real life.
Aira's fingers reached for it—but as they touched, the world trembled.
The marigolds blew away like ashes. The sky darkened.
And she woke.
---
She sat up, gasping, her skin cold with sweat. Her heart raced, her fingers aching as though they had been grasping something real.
The dream felt more than just memory—it felt like proof.
She pulled the key from around her neck, staring at it under the moonlight. The same design. The same size. The same looped end.
Was it just coincidence?
Or…
Had she known Ravi before?
---
The next morning, she met Ravi at their favorite café. Her voice was shaky as she spoke.
"I had a dream," she told him.
He looked into her eyes. "So did I."
A chill ran through her.
"Tell me."
Ravi took a long breath. "You were called Aarya. We were lovers in another time. I was a soldier, returning from battle. I gave you a key. The same one I gave you now."
Aira's heart pounded. "I had the same dream."
They stared at each other, the weight of something unexplainable pressing between them. A story too old for this world, still unfolding now.
"I think," Aira whispered, "we're living a love that time couldn't end."
Ravi reached across the table and took her hand. "Then let's finish it. This time, no more interruptions."
---
Outside, a marigold petal—just one—fell from the sky.
But there were no trees above.
No flowers.
Just a sign from a past that refused to be forgotten.