The smell of medicine faded before the pain did.Samreth spent two more weeks in the hospital, surrounded by the quiet hum of machines and the soft voices of nurses passing by. Every night, he dreamed of Sophea — her eyes in the firelight, her hand clutching his before the soldiers came. And every morning, he woke to the sound of city life beyond the glass window — cars, traffic, and laughter that felt too bright for the world he'd left behind.
When the doctor finally said he was strong enough to go home, his parents helped him pack his things. His mother smiled as she folded his clothes."You can rest better in Phnom Penh," she said.He nodded. "Yes… Phnom Penh."
But when they drove back through the city, Samreth could barely recognize it. Neon lights blinked where old temples used to stand. Coffee shops glowed on every corner. Motorbikes zipped through the streets. The Phnom Penh of 2025 was alive — loud, fast, unstoppable. Yet somehow, he felt like a stranger in his own time.
At home, his parents cooked his favorite meal — fried rice with Amok fish (Khmer traditionalfood) and vegetable soup. They tried to make conversation, but Samreth's mind drifted elsewhere. His mother noticed the faraway look in his eyes."You're still thinking about that dream?" she asked softly."It wasn't a dream," he whispered.
She said nothing more.
A few days later, due to boredom he pushed himself out of the house. He walked slowly through the warm air toward Vin Mart, one of the newest marts in the city. It was bright and cold inside, full of Cambodia things and other he thought about Sophea she had never seen this — the bottled drinks, snacks, bread sealed in plastic. He moved down the aisles, touching each item like a memory waiting to be born.
He picked out everything he could think of — water, energy drinks, painkillers, snacks, bread, a even a few instant meals in the mart. The cashier smiled politely, unaware that each item was being chosen for another century.
Outside, he stopped at a small café — Coffee Corner, one of those modern places where people typed on laptops and sipped frappes under soft music. He ordered a black coffee and sat by the window, watching the world move.
Then he whispered, "Athisa."
The air shimmered faintly across the table, and Athisa appeared — not physically, but enough for Samreth to feel his presence. Calm, steady, a little distant.
"You're healing fast," Athisa said quietly. "But your heart still lives elsewhere."
Samreth stirred his coffee. "I promised her I'd come back."
"You almost died last time."
"I know. But I can't just live here pretending it never happened. She's still there, in the middle of that war."
Athisa leaned forward, voice softer. "Then what's stopping you?"
Samreth sighed. "My parents. They're afraid they'll lose me again."
Athisa's tone warmed. "Then let me speak to them."
That evening, the three of them sat together in the living room — Samreth's mother still nervous, his father silent. The lights were dim, the air heavy with unspoken fear.
"Who are you?" his mother asked quietly when Athisa appeared, faint like a reflection in glass.
"A part of your son," Athisa said gently. "And a part of what connects him to where he must go."
His father frowned. "You mean… that war? That time?"
"Yes," Athisa said. "There is something unfinished there — not only for him, but for history itself. He's not just chasing a woman. He's preserving what was almost erased."
His mother trembled. "But he just came back to us."
Samreth took her hand. "Mom, I love you both. But when I was there, I saw people suffering. I saw what our country went through. And Sophea — she's part of that story. If I can help even a little, if I can change something — then maybe it's my reason for being here."
His mother's eyes filled with tears. "And if you never return?"
He smiled softly. "Then I'll still be with you — in every story I write, in every life I remember."
Silence lingered. His father nodded slowly. "If you must go… go prepared. And come back with peace in your heart."
Samreth's mother looked away, wiping her eyes. "Take care of him," she said to Athisa.
"I will," Athisa promised.
Later that night, Samreth packed quietly — energy drinks, snacks, bandages, medicine, a flashlight, a photo of his parents.Athisa appeared beside him as the lights flickered.
"This time," Athisa said, "we'll land deeper — Battambang. The patrols there are strong, but the resistance is still alive."
Samreth zipped his bag and nodded. "Let's finish what we started."
The city lights outside his window blurred into streaks of gold and white. A distant echo of Sophea's laughter brushed his memory.
And then, with one steady breath, the room around him dissolved.