The marigold petal lingered in Aira's hand like a whisper from the universe. She and Ravi didn't speak for a moment—words suddenly felt too small for what they were feeling.
Later that day, Aira visited an old bookstore tucked in a forgotten lane near the city's edge. Something had pulled her there—a nudge from a dream or a memory she couldn't place. The bell above the door chimed as she stepped in, and the smell of paper, time, and silence wrapped around her like a cloak.
The shopkeeper, an old woman with silver hair and eyes that shimmered oddly, looked up.
"Looking for something… or someone?" she asked.
"I—I'm not sure," Aira replied honestly.
The woman smiled like she already knew.
She handed Aira a dusty leather-bound book from behind the counter. "Bindings of the Lost Heart."
Aira opened it. Her breath caught.
Inside were stories… written in old script. Tales of two souls who found each other across centuries. The names were different in each story—but the essence was the same. One chapter even spoke of a warrior and a healer. Aarya. Rivan.
Her hands trembled.
"It's you," the woman said softly. "It always was."
---
That evening, Aira met Ravi at the temple steps. She showed him the book. He turned its pages, his fingers brushing old ink as if reading a journal of his soul.
But the last page had a strange inscription:
"To meet once is fate. To remember is grace. But to choose again, when the past returns, is the truest test of love."
Ravi looked up. "What does it mean?"
Before Aira could speak, her phone buzzed.
It was an unknown number.
She hesitated—then answered.
A calm male voice spoke:
"Miss Aira, I'm calling from the Ministry. You've been shortlisted for an international research fellowship in Italy. You'd applied two years ago—it's finally been approved. Six months abroad. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Aira froze.
This… was her dream before Ravi.
Before the marigolds, the dreams, the key.
Ravi looked at her face and understood.
"You have to go," he said, even before she spoke.
"But—"
He took her hand. "If our souls really met across lifetimes, we'll meet again. Whether it's six months… or sixty years."
Her eyes welled. "But what if fate gives up before we do?"
He leaned forward, touched his forehead to hers.
"Then we'll write fate a new ending."
---
As she stood at the airport days later, boarding pass in hand, Aira wore the key around her neck like armor.
And just before she turned away from the gate, she looked back.
There, through the crowd, was Ravi.
Holding a marigold.
Not saying a word.
But promising forever with just his eyes.