The weekend came like a sigh of relief. After all the chaos at school—the transfer student, the chair holder rumors, and that accidental collision that still echoed in my mind—I welcomed the quiet of home.
Our house wasn’t big, just a two-story place tucked in a suburban neighborhood where children played on bicycles and neighbors greeted each other at dawn. But for me, it was a world of safety. My parents weren’t wealthy, but they worked hard, and they loved me fiercely. And then there was Grandma.
“Ai, set the table for me, dear,” Mom called from the kitchen, where the smell of adobo simmering on the stove filled the air.
“Okay, Mom,” I said, grabbing the plates. Dad was already on the couch, newspaper in hand, muttering about rising gas prices.
When dinner was served, Grandma insisted on saying grace, her frail but steady voice filling the small dining room. Afterward, she leaned closer to me as if sharing a secret.
“You know, Ai,” she said, her eyes crinkling with wisdom. “In every life, there is a meeting written in the stars. Sometimes, souls find each other again and again, no matter how much time passes.”
I froze, spoon halfway to my mouth.
“Ma, don’t go filling the girl’s head with superstitions,” Dad teased lightly, sipping his soup.
But Grandma only chuckled. “Superstition? Perhaps. Or perhaps it is truth. Haven’t you ever felt like you’ve known someone before, even if you just met them? That’s what we call an old soul connection.”
My heart thumped. Images of that man’s eyes—dark, familiar, suffocatingly familiar—flashed in my mind.
I forced a smile and stirred my rice. “Sounds romantic, Grandma, but I don’t really believe in things like that.”
She gave me a knowing look, one that said she wasn’t fooled.
---
The next day at school, chaos returned.
“Did you hear?” Mia practically skipped beside me as we entered the gates. “The chair holder is officially the youngest CEO in the country! He owns like… a whole empire of businesses. Real estate, tech, even fashion brands. And he’s only in his twenties!”
Sam adjusted his glasses with an unimpressed snort. “What’s a guy like that doing involving himself with our school anyway? Feels suspicious.”
Mia elbowed him. “Suspicious? More like dreamy! Can you imagine? A man that powerful walking our halls?”
I walked quietly, their chatter buzzing around me. My classmates were already clustered in groups, whispering and squealing. It was like the whole school had been given a new idol to worship.
And then, of course, Serena Han glided past us, her hair catching the sunlight. She looked unbothered by the hysteria, her expression calm, her movements deliberate.
“Morning,” she said politely, her voice carrying the faintest foreign lilt.
“Morning!” Mia replied eagerly, but Serena’s gaze flickered briefly—toward me.
It wasn’t hostile, just… assessing. Like she was looking for something hidden beneath my skin.
I looked away first.
---
Classes dragged on, and by lunch, the cafeteria buzzed with nothing but talk of the chair holder.
“They say he might even visit the school this week!” someone gushed.
“Imagine if he gave a speech—”
“What if he chooses a student for an internship?”
Mia squealed again. Sam rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he muttered. “Men like him don’t even see us. To them, we’re… ants.”
But my pulse quickened all the same. I hadn’t told Mia or Sam about the collision on the street. About how his hand brushed mine when he handed back my notebook. About how his eyes felt like a memory I shouldn’t have.
I told myself it was better that way. They’d only tease me—or worse, believe Grandma’s words about soul connections.
---
That evening, I found Grandma sitting in the garden, humming an old lullaby. Fireflies blinked around her as she rocked gently on her chair.
“Grandma,” I said softly, taking the seat beside her. “Did you… ever meet someone who felt familiar? Like you’d known them before?”
Her smile deepened. “Ah, so you’ve felt it too.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I didn’t say I felt it. I just asked.”
She patted my hand knowingly. “When I was your age, I met your grandfather at a festival. I’d never seen him before, but the moment our eyes met, I felt a pull. Like I’d found something I didn’t know I was missing. We married young, and though he’s gone now, sometimes I dream of him. And in those dreams, it feels like we’ve lived a thousand lives together.”
Her voice softened with nostalgia, and for a moment, I envied her certainty.
“But what if,” I whispered, “that kind of connection only leads to tragedy?”
Grandma’s eyes flickered with surprise. “Ai… is this about that story your teacher told?”
I bit my lip. I couldn’t tell her the truth—that the story wasn’t just history to me, it was memory.
“Maybe,” I said instead.
She squeezed my hand. “Then remember this: even tragedy holds love. And love, child, is never wasted. It echoes.”
---
The next week, Emerald High erupted again.
Because the rumor was true.
The chair holder himself was coming to tour the campus.
Banners were hung, the principal polished his speech, and half the girls wore makeup to school.
When sleek cars pulled up in front of the gates, the crowd surged forward, teachers barely keeping order.
And then—there he was.
The man I had bumped into.
He stepped out of the car in another tailored suit, bodyguards fanning out like shadows. The principal rushed forward with a nervous smile. Students whispered and squealed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce our new chair holder—Mr. Adrian Valdez,” the principal announced.
Adrian Valdez.
So that was his name.
The richest CEO in the country. Young, powerful, untouchable.
I stood rooted to the spot as his gaze swept over the crowd, calm and commanding. And for just one heartbeat, his eyes found mine.
The world stilled again. My chest tightened, breath hitching painfully.
But then he looked away, already moving past with the principal at his side.
“Did you see that? He’s gorgeous!” Mia gushed, clinging to my arm.
“Looks like trouble to me,” Sam muttered.
And me?
I told myself over and over again: He isn’t Elian. He can’t be Elian.
But deep down, a part of me—the Eleanor part—whispered otherwise…but about how his eyes felt like a door creaking open to a past I had tried so hard to bury.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I laughed when Mia cracked her silly jokes, nodded when Sam complained about homework, but inside, my thoughts spun in restless circles.
Was it possible? Could he really be Elian?
No. It didn’t make sense. Elian was supposed to be my age—or close to it. Not a man in his twenties, dressed like power itself and followed by bodyguards.
But then again… hadn’t he once sworn that no matter the life, no matter the distance, he would find me?
Maybe time had played a cruel trick, weaving our destinies unevenly. Maybe in this life, he was born earlier, while I was forced to remain sixteen.
The thought made my chest ache.
---
When the final bell rang, I walked home alone. Mia had dance club, Sam had detention for “accidentally” setting off the fire alarm, and I needed space to breathe.
The late afternoon sun painted the streets golden, children’s laughter ringing from the playground. For a moment, the world felt too normal, too far away from the weight pressing on my heart.
Until I saw her.
Serena Han.
She stood at the corner of the street, not walking home with the others, not waiting for a ride. She just stood there, her phone in hand, but her gaze—her sharp, unreadable gaze—was fixed on me.
Our eyes met.
For a second, I froze. Something in her look wasn’t curiosity. It was recognition.
Like she knew me.
Like she knew who I was.
And then, just as quickly, she smiled politely, slipped her phone into her pocket, and turned down another street, disappearing from view.
I swallowed hard, my palms suddenly clammy.
Why did it feel like Serena Han wasn’t just another transfer student?
Why did it feel like fate had placed her in my path for a reason?
---
That night, sleep came in restless fragments. Dreams tugged me back into Eleanor’s world—back into candlelit halls, hushed whispers, and the sound of Elian’s laughter in the garden.
But then another figure appeared in the shadows.
Diana.
Her face blurred, her voice soft yet sharp as glass.
“History repeats, Eleanor,” she whispered. “And you cannot escape it.”
I woke with a gasp, heart hammering, the sheets tangled around my legs.
The name left my lips before I could stop it.
“Diana…”
Could it be?
Was Serena… her?
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