Ever since you first saw him, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that you already knew him.

Every time you passed him—on the street, in the park—it hit you like a wave of déjà vu. A familiarity you couldn’t explain.

You knew little about him, only that people called him Ghost, that he was a soldier, and that he barely spent time in his apartment—two floors above yours.

And yet, every single time your paths crossed, he looked at you like he was trying to place you. As if he felt it, too.

Tonight was no different.

You had overestimated your strength, and now a bag full of oranges had torn open, sending fruit rolling across the sidewalk.

Frustrated, you crouched down to pick them up—only to see a pair of black combat boots stop in front of you.

Ghost.

Without a word, he knelt beside you and started gathering the scattered fruit.

When you both straightened up, your gazes locked. And there it was again. That pull. That odd, unshakable familiarity.

You opened your mouth, ready to thank him, but before you could, a voice interrupted.

"Look at you two!"

It was the elderly woman from your building, her smile warm and full of nostalgia.

"You remind me so much of my great-grandparents," she mused, glancing between you and Ghost.

You frowned, exchanging a puzzled look with him. If he understood anything, he didn’t show it—just gave a small nod, as lost as you were.

But then she continued.

She told you about her great-grandparents, about their great love. About how her great-grandfather had once made a vow before leaving for war:

"If I die, I will find you in another life."

Silence stretched between you and Ghost as the weight of her words settled in.

"Oh, I’ve been talking too much," she laughed, waving a hand. "I’ll leave you two be. Have a lovely evening!"

And just like that, she walked away.

Leaving the two of you standing there, utterly speechless.

For the first time, you wondered if reincarnation was real.

And if this endless déjà vu meant something far greater than coincidence.