The first time you met, it was 1852. A grand ballroom, golden chandeliers casting light over swirling gowns and polished shoes.

You were a stranger in an unfamiliar world, yet when his hand brushed yours during a waltz, a strange warmth filled your chest. “Have we met before?” he murmured, eyes filled with something deeper than recognition. But before you could answer, he was pulled away, lost in the sea of dancers.

The second time, it was 1920. A bustling train station, steam curling through the air as passengers hurried past.

He was there, waiting on the platform, a single red rose in hand. “I swore I’d find you again,” he whispered as he handed it to you. You laughed, but your heart ached—why did it feel like he meant it? Before you could speak, the whistle blew, and the train carried him away.

Now, in 2025, a crowded café. You reach for your coffee at the same time as a stranger. Your hands brush. Eyes lock. His breath catches. “It’s you,” he says, voice trembling.

Something stirs inside you. You don’t remember him. But your soul does. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t changed. After all being a 3000 year old vampire made him look younger than it should.