Chapter 2 His Eyes In Every Life

The attic smelled like lavender and old paper. Dust curled in the sunlight, suspended like time itself. Amara stared at the painting in her lap, her fingers trembling against the canvas as if touching it might make the moment real.

The man in the painting was Leo.

Not just similar. Not just a vague resemblance. It was him-down to the slope of his jaw, the arch of his brow, and those silver-gray eyes that haunted her even when she was awake.

But the painting was dated 1874.

"How is this possible?" she whispered.

Estelle knelt beside her. "That painting belonged to your great-great-grandmother, Isaline. She painted it when she was just nineteen." She hesitated, voice softening. "She said he was the love of her life. But no one else ever met him. And he died young."

Amara looked up. "She painted Leo?"

"She called him Leontius. The story was always treated like a romantic ghost tale, but... there was something about her. She never moved on. Never married. She said she would meet him again."

A chill crawled down Amara's spine. "What else did she say?"

Estelle's eyes searched hers. "Only that their love was cursed by time. That fate had torn them apart in one life, and they would have to find each other again in another."

Amara looked back down at the portrait. "Do you believe it?"

Estelle placed a hand on her shoulder. "I believe love is stronger than death. And sometimes... it comes back."

Sleep that night didn't come easy. When it did, the dream was sharper than ever before.

This time, Amara stood in a stone corridor. Candles flickered in sconces along the walls. Her velvet gown was heavy and embroidered with roses. Somewhere in the distance, music played-slow and mournful violins.

She walked toward the sound, heart pounding. Then she saw him.

Leontius.

Dressed in dark formal wear, a crimson sash draped across his chest, a silver ring on his finger. He turned as if sensing her presence, and their eyes met.

"Mariselle," he said, breathless.

That was her name.

In that life.

"Why did you leave me?" she whispered.

He walked to her, cupping her cheek. "I never did. You were taken. Poisoned by a jealous hand."

She gasped. "I- I don't remember-"

"You will."

He leaned forward. His lips brushed her ear.

"Say it," he whispered. "Say I love you... when we meet again."

She opened her mouth-

And awoke.

Amara shot out of bed, gasping. Her heart raced like a drumbeat of another time. She clutched her chest, trying to remember every detail before it slipped away.

Poisoned.

Taken.

Mariselle.

Leontius.

She glanced at the sketchpad on her nightstand. Without thinking, she flipped it open and began to draw. Her hand moved like it remembered on its own-every line, every curve, until a familiar hallway appeared on the page. Stone walls. Candlelight. A ballroom beyond.

It wasn't memory. It was instinct. Muscle memory from a life she wasn't supposed to recall.

Later that morning, her phone buzzed with a message from the Ardent Corp HR team.

"Mr. Ardent has requested a private review of your portfolio. Please report to his office at noon."

Her stomach flipped.

Why would Leo request her specifically again?

Unless... unless he remembered something too.

The elevator ride felt longer this time, and when the doors opened, Leo was already waiting.

He stood by the window again, arms folded, eyes distant.

Amara stepped inside slowly. "You wanted to see me?"

His voice was low. "Close the door."

She did.

He didn't turn to face her.

"I want to ask you something," he said. "And I need you to answer honestly."

"Okay."

"Have we met before?"

The question hit her like thunder.

She didn't know how to lie. "Not in this life."

He turned sharply, eyes locking onto hers.

She saw it then. Not just recognition. Fear. Confusion. Longing.

"You dream of me," he said.

Amara nodded. "You say the same thing every time. 'Say I love you when we meet again.'"

Leo's chest rose and fell with a silent exhale. "I've said that line in my dreams since I was a child. I didn't know why. I didn't know who I was saying it to."

She stepped closer. "I think... I was her."

Leo's expression hardened. "Who?"

"Mariselle. That was my name. In the dream."

He walked over to the minibar and poured himself a glass of water, his hand visibly shaking.

"I never told anyone about those dreams," he said. "I was afraid they meant I was broken. Or haunted."

Amara's voice was soft. "You're not haunted. You're remembering."

He looked at her. "And if it's true... If we really were lovers in another life... why now? Why this time?"

"I don't know. But I think we were meant to find each other again."

His jaw clenched. "Then why do I feel like something is watching us? Like someone doesn't want this to happen?"

As if on cue, a phone buzzed across the room. Leo picked it up, frowning.

His expression shifted. "My security team just flagged something strange."

"What?"

"There's been someone tailing you since yesterday. A black car. No plates. No ID."

Amara's blood ran cold.

"Why would someone follow me?"

Leo narrowed his eyes. "That's what I intend to find out."

That night, Leo sat in his private study, pouring over old files, documents, and family history. Something about Amara stirred memories he couldn't place-like fragments of a life he'd once lived but had buried under ambition and logic.

He found an old box labeled Leontius Ardent - 1875.

Inside was a letter. Faded with age. Sealed with red wax.

To the one who finds her again... beware the one who never forgot.

She will return. But so will the one who ended her first.