The city never seemed louder than it did that morning.
Aria Lane stood at the edge of the sidewalk, her hands trembling as the crowd pressed forward around her. She could still see them—those storm-gray eyes that had locked with hers for one suspended heartbeat. Eyes that did not belong to a stranger, no matter how much her rational mind tried to insist otherwise.
She swallowed hard, pressing her palm against her chest as though she could steady the wild flutter of her heart. The sound of cars honking, vendors shouting, and people brushing past her blurred into a distant hum. All she could hear was the echo of a voice that hadn't been spoken aloud in years—Evelina's voice, the woman from her dream, whispering a single name.
Damian.
Aria shook her head violently. No. This was absurd. Dreams didn't bleed into reality. Faces from another life didn't walk the streets of modern New York like living ghosts. And yet… he had been there. Across the street. Taller than most, broad-shouldered, moving with the same confident grace she remembered from the ballroom. His gaze had cut through the crowd, unerring, like he had been searching for her all along.
And then—just as suddenly as he appeared—he was gone. Swallowed by the sea of people.
"Aria!"
The shout snapped her back. Lila, her best friend and coworker, was waving frantically from the curb, her coffee cup sloshing dangerously. "Are you coming, or are you planning to stand there until the next century?"
Aria forced a shaky smile. "Sorry. Zoned out."
"Zoned out?" Lila eyed her suspiciously as she fell into step beside her. "Girl, you looked like you'd seen a ghost."
Not a ghost, Aria thought bitterly. Something worse.
The office felt colder than usual. Aria slid into her desk, her reflection catching in the dark glass of her monitor. Pale skin, dark hair falling loose over her shoulders, eyes that carried shadows she couldn't explain. She looked the same as always, but inside she felt cracked open.
Emails piled in her inbox, reports flagged for review, deadlines looming—but her mind refused to settle. Each time she blinked, she saw him. Those eyes. That face. Not just familiar—beloved.
"Aria, Earth to Aria."
She jumped. Lila leaned against the edge of her desk, arms crossed. "Okay, seriously. What's going on with you today?"
Aria hesitated. How could she explain? That she'd dreamed of dying in another woman's body? That she remembered poison burning her throat, blood staining her lips, and the desperate anguish of leaving someone she loved behind? That she had just seen him alive, breathing, walking the same streets as her?
"Nothing," Aria lied weakly.
Lila raised a brow. "Uh-huh. That's your 'something huge happened but I'm not telling you' voice. Spill."
Aria opened her mouth, then closed it again. If she spoke the truth out loud, she might never claw her way back from the edge.
Instead, she forced a laugh. "I just didn't sleep well. Weird dreams. That's all."
Lila studied her for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Fine, keep your secrets. But don't come crying to me when your brain explodes from overthinking." She winked and pushed off her desk, leaving Aria staring after her.
Weird dreams. Yes. That was all they were supposed to be. But her heart knew better.
By the time the clock struck noon, Aria had given up on productivity. She slipped out of the office and wandered aimlessly down the busy avenues, the city's noise a hollow cover for the storm in her chest.
Every corner she turned, she expected to see him. Every flash of gray in a stranger's suit, every tall silhouette, every fleeting glance made her pulse skip. It was madness, and yet she couldn't stop searching.
Finally, exhausted, she ducked into a quiet café. The warm scent of roasted beans wrapped around her, grounding her. She ordered a latte and found a seat by the window, staring out at the endless tide of people rushing by.
Her thoughts circled back—again and again—to the dream. Not just a dream, she realized now. A memory. A death that wasn't hers, but had left its scar on her soul.
She could still taste the bitterness of the poisoned wine, feel the velvet hem of her gown under trembling fingers, see Damian's face pale with horror as he reached for her.
"Find me," she had whispered with her last breath. "Across lifetimes."
And now, impossibly, she had.
The bell above the café door chimed. Aria's breath caught as her gaze lifted instinctively.
It wasn't him. Just a mother with a stroller, a pair of students laughing over textbooks, a businessman barking into his phone.
Her shoulders sagged. She was chasing ghosts.
Maybe I've gone insane, she thought.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. By evening, Aria found herself back in her small apartment, lights dimmed, city sounds muffled beyond the walls. She curled up on the couch, hugging her knees, her mind looping endlessly.
She should forget him. Whoever he was—if he even existed. She should bury the dream, the memory, the impossible longing tearing her apart.
But when she closed her eyes, he was there. Always there.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Lila. Don't stay up all night overthinking, babe. Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.
Aria stared at the words until they blurred. Sweet dreams. The irony wasn't lost on her. Dreams were the last thing she wanted.
And yet, when sleep finally claimed her, it dragged her back into the past.
The ballroom glittered again before her eyes. Music swelled, laughter sparkled, chandeliers glowed with golden fire. But this time, she wasn't Evelina. She was herself, standing at the edge of the crowd in a simple black dress, unseen and out of place.
Across the room, Damian turned. His eyes found hers instantly. Recognition flared, burning, undeniable.
Aria gasped and stumbled back—
And woke with a start, sweat chilling her skin.
Her alarm blared. Another day had begun.
But this time, she knew. The dream wasn't finished. And neither was fate.
that felt too real to ignore.
Aria lingered in bed long after her alarm had silenced, staring at the ceiling as sunlight stretched across her room in sharp golden stripes. She should have been getting ready for work, pulling on her blazer, rushing out the door with half a slice of toast in her mouth. But her body refused to move.
Her mind was still back there—in that ballroom, under the chandeliers, in the weight of a gaze that had burned through lifetimes.
"Damian," she whispered into the stillness.
The name tasted foreign, yet achingly familiar, like a song she had once known by heart but forgotten with time.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A new message blinked on the screen.
Lila: Coffee before work? I'm buying.
Lila: And don't you dare ghost me again.
Aria smiled faintly, grateful for the distraction. If anyone could tether her back to the present, it was Lila. She rolled out of bed, showered quickly, and pulled her hair into a messy bun. Jeans, blouse, flats—ordinary armor for an extraordinary storm raging inside her.
The café was bustling when she arrived. Lila was already there, perched on a stool by the window, two cups waiting.
"You're late," Lila said, sliding one cup across the table. "I was about to start a search party."
Aria took the coffee gratefully. "Thanks. Rough morning."
"Tell me about it." Lila leaned forward, chin propped on her hand. "You've been acting like you're haunted. Spill. Did you meet a guy? Lose a guy? Murder a guy?"
Aria choked on her sip. "What? No!"
Lila grinned wickedly. "Then it's definitely a guy. Come on, I know that look. Who is he?"
Aria hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the cup. She wanted to tell someone—to share the weight of the impossible truth pressing down on her chest. But how could she? Lila would laugh, call her dramatic, maybe even worry she was losing her grip.
"It's complicated," Aria said finally.
"Complicated is my favorite flavor."
Aria smiled despite herself. "Let's just say… I saw someone yesterday. And he felt… familiar."
"Familiar?" Lila echoed. "Like you've met before?"
"Like I've known him forever," Aria admitted softly.
Lila tilted her head, studying her. "That sounds more like fate than familiarity."
Aria's heart stumbled at the word. Fate. That was exactly what it felt like.
Work was no kinder to her that day. Numbers blurred on her screen, her colleagues' voices became distant echoes. Every tick of the clock was a reminder that somewhere out there, he existed. Not just in her dreams. Not just in a life long past. But here, now.
By the time she left the office, the city was already glowing with the first shimmer of evening lights. Aria wandered without destination, drawn by an invisible thread.
She turned a corner—and froze.
There he was.
Standing at the edge of the crowd, phone in hand, head tilted slightly as though listening for something beyond the city's chaos. The same storm-gray eyes, the same presence that made the world narrow to a single point.
Aria's breath caught. She gripped the strap of her bag, heart hammering so loudly she was sure people around her could hear it.
Go to him, a voice inside her urged. Say something. Anything.
But her feet felt rooted to the pavement. What could she possibly say? Hello, I think I died in another life loving you?
As if sensing her turmoil, his gaze lifted. Their eyes met across the distance. Time fractured, suspended.
And then—just like before—someone passed between them, breaking the moment. When she looked again, he was gone.
Aria stood there trembling, breath shallow, until the city swallowed her whole once more.
That night, sleep did not come easily. When it did, it dragged her back into the dream.
This time, she was Evelina again. The poison was slower, burning her veins with cruel patience. Damian's hands held her tightly, his voice raw with panic.
"Stay with me," he begged. "Please, Evelina, stay."
Her lips trembled. She wanted to answer, to tell him she would find him again. But the words drowned in blood, in darkness.
Aria jolted awake with a cry, clutching her chest as though she could hold her heart together with her bare hands.
The city outside was silent. But inside, her world was unraveling Aria didn't sleep the rest of that night. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Damian's desperate voice echoing in her head.
Stay with me. Please, Evelina, stay.
Her chest ached as though the pain belonged not only to Evelina but to her. By dawn, her pillow was damp, and her eyes were swollen from tears she didn't remember shedding.
When morning finally arrived, Aria dragged herself into the day with a heaviness she couldn't shake. Even her reflection in the mirror looked foreign—her skin pale, her gaze haunted, like she'd lived two lives in one night.
The Invitation
At work, distraction became survival. She buried herself in tasks, forcing her thoughts into spreadsheets and emails, anything but the pull of those gray eyes.
But fate was relentless.
"Aria," her manager called, dropping a pale ivory envelope onto her desk. "This came for you. Hand-delivered."
Her brows furrowed. "For me? Who even sends letters anymore?"
The envelope was thick, sealed with a wax crest she didn't recognize—a stylized rose entwined with thorns.
Curiosity prickled her skin. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
Miss Lane,
You are cordially invited to the Winter Gala hosted at the Crescent Hall this Friday. A night of elegance, art, and celebration awaits. Attendance has already been confirmed in your honor.
Her stomach flipped. She hadn't RSVP'd to anything, let alone a gala. And Crescent Hall… wasn't that the historic mansion restored last year?
The bottom of the letter bore no signature. Just the rose seal again.
A whisper stirred in her chest. This wasn't coincidence.
Lila's Curiosity
"You're kidding me," Lila said that evening when Aria showed her the letter. "This is, like, Cinderella-level stuff. Mystery gala? Anonymous host? This screams romance novel plot."
Aria rolled her eyes but couldn't deny the flutter in her chest. "Or horror novel plot. For all I know, it's a trap."
"Then I'm going with you," Lila declared. "If it's a cult, we'll escape together. If it's a ball, I'm definitely not letting you hog the spotlight."
Aria laughed for the first time in days, the sound shaky but real.
Still, deep down, she knew—this was connected to him. To Damian.
The Gala
Friday arrived faster than she expected. Crescent Hall glittered against the night sky, its tall windows ablaze with golden light. The driveway overflowed with sleek cars, and guests in shimmering gowns and tuxedos stepped onto crimson carpets.
Aria adjusted the strap of her simple navy dress, suddenly wishing she'd chosen something grander. Beside her, Lila was radiant in silver sequins, excitement practically sparking off her.
"Breathe," Lila whispered, squeezing her hand. "You look stunning. Whoever invited you is going to regret making it a mystery."
Aria tried to smile, but her heart was racing too fast.
Inside, the hall was a dream. Chandeliers dripped with crystal light, and a string quartet played melodies that seemed plucked from another century. For a moment, Aria's vision blurred—overlapping the modern gala with the ancient ballroom from her dreams.
Her throat tightened.
"Wow," Lila murmured. "This place is… magical."
Aria's gaze swept the crowd—and froze.
There. Across the marble floor, in a perfectly tailored black suit, was him.
Damian.
Or the man who carried his face. His presence was magnetic, commanding, yet his eyes… his storm-gray eyes softened when they found hers, as if he had been searching, too.
The air vanished from her lungs.
The Dance
Before she could think, he was moving toward her, each step parting the crowd as though fate itself cleared the way.
"Aria Lane," he said when he reached her, his voice low, smooth, threaded with familiarity that made her heart stutter. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."
Her lips parted. "You— You know me?"
Something unreadable flickered in his gaze. "Not as well as I wish to. Not yet."
He extended his hand. "Dance with me."
Her body moved before her mind caught up. His hand was warm, steady, anchoring her as he led her onto the floor. The music swelled, wrapping them in a cocoon of sound.
Every step felt rehearsed, as if their bodies remembered a rhythm their souls had once perfected. Aria's nerves melted into the quiet certainty of his touch.
But beneath it all pulsed a dangerous question: Who was he really?
Secrets Unveiled
When the song ended, he guided her toward a balcony overlooking the gardens. The winter air was crisp, filling her lungs with clarity.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
He studied her, expression shadowed by moonlight. "Names are easy. Truth is harder."
"Try me."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Damian."
Her heart lurched violently. "That's… impossible."
"Is it?" His gaze pierced hers. "Or have you always known?"
Memories surged—poison, blood, desperate pleas. Her knees weakened, and he caught her before she could stumble.
"You remember," he murmured. It wasn't a question.
Aria trembled. "How can I? That life—it wasn't real."
"It was," Damian said firmly. "And we've been finding each other ever since."
The Warning
Before she could respond, a sudden sharp sound cracked through the night—a window shattering inside the hall. Screams followed, chaos erupting like wildfire.
Damian's expression hardened instantly. He pulled her close, shielding her with his body.
"Stay with me," he ordered, echoing words that felt carved into her soul.
But the crowd surged onto the balcony, panic spilling into the gardens. Aria was shoved, Damian's grip wrenched away by the tide of bodies.
"Damian!" she screamed, reaching for him.
For a brief second, their hands brushed—then the current of chaos tore them apart.
Aria stumbled into the freezing night, her breath clouding as the sounds of the gala dissolved into sirens and shouts. She spun in every direction, searching desperately.
But Damian was gone.
All that remained was the memory of his touch and the promise burning in his eyes:
We've been finding each other ever since.
Aria's world tilted, the lines between past and present blurring into one undeniable truth—her fate had just been rewritten.