Life had never been kind to me. But truth be told, I stopped caring a long time ago. Not about the pain. Not about the years. Not even about myself.

But her?

She didn’t deserve to suffer for my sins.

Maybe I was cursed from the beginning—an omen dressed in flesh and bone. When I was a reckless boy, chasing myths and legends no sane man believed in, I sought out the impossible. A banshee. A creature of death and eternity. They said if you severed its head, it would grant immortality.

I believed it. I found it. And I killed it.

But power always comes at a price.

I was given what I asked for—immortality. But the curse followed. The banshee's dying breath sealed my fate:

“The one you cherish most will be taken from you. Again. And again. Every fifty years she will return to you—reborn, untouched, unaware. And every time you touch her lips, you will kill her.”

And so she was. The girl I loved. The one who made me feel human—whole, for the first time. When I returned from the forest, I found my home in flames. An “accident,” they said. But I knew better. She died that night.

And I never aged again.

I’ve lived for centuries, changing names, identities, fortunes. Watching the world evolve as I remained untouched by time. Every fifty years, she comes back—reincarnated into a new life. The same eyes. The same laugh. But she never remembers me. And every time I fall for her all over again. And every time… I kill her.

One kiss seals her fate.

I’ve held her in my arms as she died a hundred different ways. It never gets easier. The agony never dulls. Her smile always breaks me. And now—after another fifty years—here she is again.

She’s standing behind the counter of a small candle shop. Her hair is tied loosely, strands falling over her cheek. Her hands—those same hands—are busy labeling jars that smell like lavender and smoke.

She looks up at me.

Tilts her head, just slightly. A flicker of recognition? No. Just curiosity.

The dimples. Still there. God, they ruin me every time.

But this time... I won’t touch her. I won’t speak her name. I won’t let history repeat itself.

This time, I’ll let her live. Even if it breaks me.

I take a step closer, picking up a candle from the shelf. She meets my gaze, as I wait for her to say something.