The journal sat between them on the oak table, its pages yellowed and fragile, but undeniably magnetic. Asher could hardly look away. Every sentence he read felt like a tug on a thread buried deep within him—something pulling loose, unraveling a truth he didn’t yet understand.
Ethan sat quietly across from him, his eyes flickering between Asher’s face and the journal. He looked calm, but there was something in his posture—tense, almost expectant—that made Asher wonder just how much he already knew.
“This is crazy,” Asher said, barely above a whisper. “It’s like... like I’m reading my own story, but I don’t remember writing it.”
Ethan leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “Sometimes, stories remember us before we remember them.”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be comforting or cryptic?”
Ethan gave a small shrug, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Maybe both.”
Asher turned back to the journal, flipping to the next entry. The ink was smudged in places, as if written in haste—or with trembling hands.
> “He smiled at me today. The same smile he used to give me beneath the moonlight in the gardens. Does he know? Can he feel it too? The weight of a thousand lifetimes between us?”
Asher’s breath caught. His pulse quickened. He didn’t know why it hit him so hard, but something about the entry stirred a hollow ache in his chest. A longing that didn’t have a name.
He looked up again. “Who wrote this?”
Ethan hesitated. “We don’t know for sure. The journal isn’t catalogued. It’s not even supposed to be in this section.”
“But you’ve seen it before,” Asher said slowly. “Haven’t you?”
Ethan didn’t deny it. Instead, he stood and began to pace the floor, the journal’s words seemingly echoing in the air around them.
“I found it once,” he said finally. “Years ago. I was about your age. It disappeared after I read it, though. I always wondered if it would come back.”
Asher tilted his head. “So this... this happens often? The journal just appears for someone?”
“Not for someone,” Ethan said, pausing. “For you.”
Silence settled thick between them.
Asher scoffed quietly. “You’re making it sound like I’m the reincarnation of some lost lover.”
Ethan didn’t laugh. “Aren’t you even the least bit curious why you’re drawn to this? Why these words feel familiar to you?”
“I mean... yeah,” Asher admitted. “But that’s just my imagination, right? I’ve read a lot of books. Maybe it’s just... resonating.”
“Or maybe,” Ethan said quietly, “your heart remembers what your mind has forgotten.”
Asher opened the journal again. This time, something caught his eye on the inside of the front cover—a faint inscription in elegant cursive, nearly hidden in the fold.
> For A. You always come back to me.
His fingers froze on the page. “Ethan.”
Ethan turned to him.
“My name starts with A.”
“I know,” Ethan replied gently.
Asher blinked. “You said that before. Like you expected me.”
Ethan came closer, leaning down to tap the journal. “Because I did. The story always begins with you finding this.”
Asher’s voice dropped. “And you?”
Ethan’s eyes were unreadable. “I’m just the one waiting for you to remember.”
......................
( To be continued)
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