My name is Ailene Perez, though everyone just calls me Ai. I’m sixteen, an only child, and if I had to describe my life in one word, it would probably be ordinary. My parents aren’t rich, but they provide enough for me. I go to Emerald High school, which sounds fancier than it really is. It’s just a regular school with regular kids.

Well, regular kids except for me.

That’s what my friends like to say. They call me mature for my age, which is their polite way of saying I don’t care about the same things they do. Most girls in my class are obsessed with K-pop idols, lipstick shades, or which boy in the basketball team texted them back. Me? I’d rather keep to myself. It’s not that I’m above it all—it’s just… different. Like I’ve lived through things they can’t even imagine.

Today was one of those days where that difference became painfully obvious.

---

“Alright, settle down, everyone,” said Mr. Thompson, our history teacher, clapping his hands twice as if that would magically silence thirty noisy teenagers. “I have a story for you today. Not from your textbooks—something that comes from the old archives of this region. A story of love, betrayal, and fate.”

That caught everyone’s attention. Even I sat up straighter in my seat, though I tried not to look too interested.

Mr. Thompson adjusted his glasses and began.

---

“Many centuries ago, in a kingdom long forgotten by maps called Etheria , there lived Princess Eleanor de Roosevelt, the first daughter of the king and queen. She was said to be the most beautiful lady of her time, with a gentle heart and a spirit that longed for freedom. But Eleanor’s story was not one of fairy-tale endings.”

My fingers froze around my pen. I didn’t need him to tell me the story—I already knew it. Because I had lived it.

---

Mr. Thompson’s voice lowered, dramatic.

“Princess Eleanor fell in love with a knight. Not a prince, not a nobleman—just a knight. His name was never recorded, but he was said to be loyal, brave, and kind. Their love was forbidden. When the king and queen discovered it, they locked Eleanor away in her chambers. The knight was banished from the empire.”

Around me, gasps filled the room. Some girls clutched their notebooks to their chests, already swept up in the drama.

“But Eleanor had a loyal friend, Lady Diana. Or so she thought,” Mr. Thompson continued. “Eleanor begged Diana to send word to her knight. She pleaded for him to take her away, to save her. But Diana betrayed her. Instead of delivering Eleanor’s message of hope, she told the knight Eleanor wished to break things off. Believing her, the knight left in sorrow, traveling to a faraway land.”

I gripped my desk so hard my knuckles turned white.

Diana. My friend. The girl I had trusted more than anyone else. The sting of betrayal hadn’t faded, not even after lifetimes.

---

“A few years passed,” Mr. Thompson went on, his voice heavy. “The knight eventually learned the truth—that Eleanor had never abandoned him. He returned, but it was too late. Eleanor was to be wed to a prince from a neighboring empire. Desperate and hopeless, Eleanor ended her own life on the eve of her wedding.”

My classmates gasped again. Some covered their mouths, others whispered no way.

“But the story does not end there,” Mr. Thompson said gravely. “At her funeral, the knight appeared. He wept over her body, refusing to let go. The royal guards surrounded him, but before they could strike him down, he plunged his sword into his own chest. With his last breath, he swore that if there was a next life, he and Eleanor would find each other again and no one is going to get in their way .”

Silence filled the room. Even the rowdy boys in the back were quiet.

When Mr. Thompson finally closed his notes, I looked around. Tears streamed down half my classmates’ faces. Sniffles echoed in the air.

“That’s so tragic,” whispered one girl.

“They loved each other so much,” another said.

I just sat there, expressionless.

---

“Foolish,” I muttered under my breath.

But not quietly enough.

Heads turned. My friends blinked at me, shocked. Mr. Thompson raised his brows. “Excuse me, Ai?”

I met his gaze without flinching. “It’s foolish. Killing yourself for love… it’s dramatic, but in the end, it solves nothing. They could’ve run away. They could’ve fought. Instead, they gave up. That’s not love. That’s weakness.”

The classroom buzzed with whispers. My classmates stared like I’d just cursed in church.

“Wow, Ai, how can you say that?” one girl said. “That’s, like, the most romantic story ever.”

“Yeah,” another chimed in, dabbing her eyes. “If my boyfriend died for me, I’d—”

“You don’t even have a boyfriend,” someone cut in, and a wave of laughter followed.

Mr. Thompson looked disappointed, like I had insulted his personal hero. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion,” he said carefully, “but sometimes, Ai, the heart sees things the mind cannot understand.”

Maybe. But what he didn’t know—what none of them knew—was that I wasn’t speaking as an outsider judging a story.

I was speaking as Eleanor herself.

---

That night, I sat on my bed staring at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars I had stuck up there when I was twelve seemed childish now, mocking me.

I could still hear the echo of their voices in class. Foolish. Heartless. Cold.

But how could I explain? How could I tell them that the reason I didn’t cry wasn’t because I had no heart—but because the pain of that story was already burned into my soul?

I had lived it.

I had been Eleanor.

I remembered the stone walls of my chamber, the cold iron of the bars across my window. I remembered begging Diana to deliver my letter, watching her leave with tears in my eyes, believing she would save me. I remembered waiting day after day, convinced my knight would come for me to take me away.

And then… silence, I had just found out that Diana never told Elian the truth just a week before my parents arrange me with someone I didn't know.

No word. No rescue. Just the crushing weight of betrayal.

The day they told me I was to marry the prince of a foreign land, something inside me broke.

And the night I pressed the blade to my chest… I thought of him. Of the way he had smiled at me, the way he had sworn to protect me. And I told myself it was better this way—that if I couldn’t live with him, I wouldn’t live at all.

But death wasn’t the end.

Not for me.

Because here I was, centuries later, reborn in a world of smartphones and school uniforms. And somewhere out there… I'm hoping he was too.

Elian.

My knight.

The boy who had sworn, with his dying breath, that in the next life we would be together.

---

I closed my eyes, whispering his name like a prayer.

“Elian… where are you?

I had searched years for him without meaning to. Every boy I met, every stranger I passed, a small part of me wondered—is it him?

But none of them ever felt right. None of them ever made my soul ache with recognition.

And yet, deep inside, I knew.

One day, he would appear.

And fulfill his promise to be together.

And when he did… I would not let history repeat itself.

This time, I would fight.

This time, I would not let go

When I closed my eyes that night, the present slipped away. The hum of my electric fan, the faint glow of my alarm clock, the distant barking of dogs in the neighborhood—all of it dissolved like mist.

In its place, I felt the weight of velvet curtains, the chill of marble floors beneath my slippers, the faint scent of roses carried by the wind through a balcony.

When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer Ailene Perez.

I was Eleanor.

---

The palace had always been both my home and my prison. Tall walls of stone surrounded me, painted with the finest tapestries from foreign lands. Every morning began the same way: the handmaidens would enter my chamber before dawn, pulling back the curtains to let the pale light of sunrise wash over me.

“Your Highness,” one of them would murmur, bowing low before adjusting the blankets around me.

I would force a smile, though I longed to tell them not to bow, not to treat me as something fragile and untouchable. But those were the rules of the kingdom. I was the eldest daughter of the king and queen—the symbol of purity and obedience.

What they didn’t know was that behind the silks and jewels, my heart longed for something else.

Freedom.

And perhaps… love.

---

My days as a princess were carefully orchestrated. Morning prayers in the palace chapel. Breakfast with my family, where silence was expected unless spoken to. Hours of lessons in history, literature, and etiquette, taught by tutors who looked at me like I was both precious and fragile glass. Afternoons filled with embroidery or music, always indoors, away from the common folk.

“Princesses do not mingle with peasants,” my mother would say sternly whenever I gazed too long from my balcony at the bustling market outside the palace walls.

But my heart rebelled against those words.

I wanted to laugh freely, to run in the gardens without someone correcting my posture, to speak with people who didn’t bow before every word.

It was on one of those stolen afternoons in the garden that I first saw him.

---

I had dismissed my attendants with the excuse of wanting to read in solitude. In truth, I wanted to escape. I slipped through the rose garden, my slippers brushing against the grass, the heavy gown of pale blue silk making me move slower than I wished.

And there he was.

A young knight in training, sparring with another soldier near the edge of the courtyard. His movements were swift yet precise, every strike of his blade followed by a graceful defense. Sunlight glinted off his dark hair and the steel of his sword. His laughter—low, genuine, unguarded—carried across the garden.

I froze, hidden behind a cluster of roses, watching.

When their sparring ended, he removed his helmet, wiping sweat from his brow. That was the first time I saw his eyes. Deep, steady, like the earth itself. And when those eyes, by chance, lifted and met mine… my breath caught.

He had seen me.

---

I should have turned away. I should have fled back to my chambers. That was what a princess was supposed to do—stay untouched, unseen, protected behind walls.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stepped forward, clutching my book tightly to my chest.

“You fight well,” I said softly.

He looked startled for a moment, then bowed low, pressing his fist to his chest in salute. “Your Highness,” he said. His voice was steady, though I could see the flicker of nerves in his eyes. “Forgive me. I did not know you were here.”

“You need not apologize,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I enjoy watching the knights train. It feels… real. Unlike the lessons I endure every day.”

His brows rose slightly at my honesty, but he said nothing. He only nodded respectfully.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Elian, Your Highness,” he said.

The name settled into my heart like it had always belonged there.

---

After that day, I found myself returning to the gardens more often. At first, I told myself it was mere coincidence, but deep down I knew I was drawn to him.

Sometimes I would bring my embroidery and sit beneath the shade of the oak tree while he trained with the other knights. Other times, I would catch him glancing toward me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

One afternoon, I gathered the courage to speak again.

“You train harder than the others,” I observed, as he paused to drink water from the fountain.

He bowed. “A knight’s duty is to serve the crown. I must be prepared.”

“But what of your own dreams?” I asked, tilting my head.

He hesitated, as though no one had ever asked him that before. “Dreams are for those who can afford them. I am but a knight. My purpose is to protect.”

Something inside me ached at his words. “And if your heart wished for more?”

His gaze lifted to mine then, unguarded. For the briefest moment, I thought I saw the same longing that haunted me. But he only lowered his eyes again and murmured, “Then I would keep it buried.”

---

The more we spoke, the more I realized Elian was unlike anyone I had ever known. He was not blinded by my title. He did not flatter me with empty praises like the noblemen who visited court. He spoke honestly, with quiet strength, and when he smiled—rare and fleeting—it felt like a secret gift meant only for me.

Days turned into weeks, and my stolen moments in the garden became the brightest part of my life.

One evening, as the sun dipped low, I dared to ask him, “Do you believe in destiny, Elian?”

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “I believe in duty, Princess.”

“That is not what I asked,” I pressed gently.

He hesitated, then allowed a small smile. “Perhaps. Sometimes I feel… that paths cross for reasons beyond our understanding.”

My heart fluttered.

So did mine.

---

Of course, we were careful. No one could know of our conversations, not even Diana, my closest friend. A princess consorting with a knight was scandalous—dangerous, even.

But stolen glances became lingering touches. Words became whispers. And one fateful night, under the silver glow of the moon, we confessed the truth we had both been holding back.

“I should not speak this,” Elian murmured, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed mine, “but my heart no longer obeys reason. It belongs to you, your majesty Eleanor.”

Tears stung my eyes. “And mine to you, Elian. Whatever comes, whatever they say—we belong to each other.”

And then he kissed me under the moonlight

From that night forward, our fates were entwined.

Even if the world tried to tear us apart.

---

That dream-memory faded as dawn light crept through my modern bedroom curtains. My alarm blared, dragging me back into the present.

But my heart still raced. My lips still burned with the memory of his whispered words.

Elian.

He had been mine once. And somewhere in this world, he was mine still.

I only had to find him.

The next morning, the atmosphere in Emerald High felt… charged. Not in the usual way, with gossip about celebrity crushes or who cheated in the last math test. No, today the whispers were different.

And unfortunately, most of them were about me.

---

“Did you hear what Ai said yesterday?”

“She called the story foolish! Can you believe that?”

“It’s because she doesn’t know love yet.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t have a heart.”

I pretended not to hear as I slipped my books into my locker. The metal door rattled under my hand, and I focused on the sound to drown out the gossip behind me. But no matter how hard I tried, the words crawled into my ears, sharp and stinging.

Heartless. Cold. Foolish.

The irony made me want to laugh. If only they knew. If only they understood why I had reacted that way.

But they never would.

---

“Ai!”

The familiar voice made me turn. It was Mia, my closest friend since middle school. She was small, with big brown eyes that always seemed to sparkle with curiosity. Behind her trailed Sam, our other friend, tall and lanky, his backpack hanging off one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

Both of them looked at me with the same expression: a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Hey,” I greeted, forcing a smile.

Mia wasted no time. “What was that yesterday? You didn’t even flinch during Mr. Thompson’s story. Everyone else was bawling their eyes out!”

Sam leaned against the lockers, smirking. “Seriously, Ai. Even Marcus cried, and he’s the guy who laughs at horror movies. You, on the other hand…” He mimed a stone statue. “Unmoved. Unbreakable.”

I rolled my eyes. “It was just a story.”

Mia pouted, clutching her books to her chest. “But it was so romantic! Don’t you think? Two people loving each other so much that they’d rather die than be apart—”

“That’s not romantic, Mia,” I interrupted flatly. “It’s… tragic. And stupid. Life is worth more than that.”

Her eyes widened at my harsh tone, and guilt pricked at me. I softened my voice. “I just don’t think dying solves anything. That’s all.”

Sam raised a brow. “You sounded like you were personally offended yesterday. You sure you don’t have some hidden tragic backstory we don’t know about?”

If only he knew.

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “No backstory. Just common sense.”

But inside, my chest tightened.

---

The first bell rang, cutting our conversation short. We walked to class together, but I could feel Mia stealing glances at me the whole way. She wasn’t convinced, and I knew sooner or later she’d press me again.

But I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet.

How could I possibly say, I know the story because I lived it. I was Eleanor, and the knight still haunts my soul.

She’d think I was crazy.

---

After school, I went straight home.

Our house was modest, nothing like the marble halls of the palace I remembered. The walls were painted soft cream, the furniture simple but cozy. A faint smell of garlic and onions greeted me the moment I opened the door.

“Welcome home, Ai!” my mom called from the kitchen. She was chopping vegetables, her apron stained from cooking. My father sat at the dining table, reading the newspaper with his glasses perched low on his nose.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I said, slipping off my shoes.

“How was school?” my mom asked, her tone light but expectant.

“The same as always,” I replied, dropping my bag on the couch.

Dad lowered his newspaper just enough to peer at me. “No trouble?”

I hesitated. The memory of the whispers in the hallway flickered in my mind. But I smiled faintly. “No trouble.”

Mom set down her knife and gave me a long look, like she could sense I was holding something back. But she didn’t press. Instead, she said, “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Go wash up.”

I nodded, retreating to my room.

---

Lying on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, my mind replaying the day’s events.

My parents’ world was so simple. They worked hard, cared for me, and loved me in their quiet, everyday way. No crowns, no duties, no betrayals. Just ordinary life.

And yet…

Part of me still ached for something more. Something I couldn’t find in this life no matter how hard I tried.

Because half my heart was missing.

---

The next morning, Emerald High was buzzing with excitement. Not about me, thankfully, but about something else entirely.

Or rather, someone.

“Did you hear?”

“There’s going to be a new transfer student!”

“From abroad, I think. My cousin said he’s good-looking too.”

The halls vibrated with energy as the rumor spread like wildfire. Girls giggled and speculated, boys groaned about competition, and even teachers seemed vaguely aware of the incoming change.

Mia practically skipped to my side, her eyes wide with excitement. “Ai! Did you hear? We’re getting a transfer student this week! What if he’s cute?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know if it’s a he. Could be some quiet nerd who just wants to be left alone.”

“Still,” Mia insisted, “what if he’s different? What if he’s, like, mysterious? You know how in K-dramas, the transfer student always changes everything?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You watch too much TV, Mia.”

But inside, something stirred.

A rumor. A transfer student.

I didn’t want to believe in coincidences. Not after everything.

Could it be him?

---

That night, sleep eluded me. I lay awake, staring at the glow of my phone screen, scrolling aimlessly through messages I didn’t care about.

The whispers from earlier wouldn’t leave my mind. Transfer student. Good-looking. Mysterious.

Was fate finally moving?

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart.

“Elian…” I whispered into the silence. “Is it you?”