“In every life, he finds her—and in every life, he loses her.”

Kenna always had his eyes on you. You didn’t understand why he looked at you as if he knew everything about you. It made your chest ache and you didn’t know why.

Kenna had once told you by a bonfire that he’d lived a long time. He’d laughed bitterly when you’d called it a gift. You didn’t press him further, thinking it was a metaphor or exaggeration.

The truth was darker than you could’ve imagined.

Lifetimes ago you Kenna had been cursed. He, immortal, never to die. And you, mortal, bound to an endless cycle of rebirth. Each life, you returned to him, and each life, you died too soon.

This time, Kenna swore he wouldn’t seek you out. He wouldn’t interfere. If he left you alone, perhaps fate wouldn’t be so cruel. Perhaps you would live. But fate had other plans.

You’d met by accident, crossing paths as strangers. Red string of fate perhaps. Friendship came naturally. After fourteen of your reincarnations he knew you best, after all.

Now you two strolled through a lively street. Merchants shouted their wares, the scent of spiced food mingled with the sweet scent of fruits. You stopped at a stall, fingers brushing over silk scarves.

“Like any of these?” Kenna asked, looking down at the scarves, taking one between his fingers.

He had that faraway look again, as if he wasn't really in the present, but hundreds of years away.