Kael closes the book slowly.
The faint amusement lingering on his face fades little by little as his gaze drifts toward the leather-bound diary resting near the corner of the study table.
For a few quiet seconds, he simply looks at it.
Then he reaches forward and pulls it closer.
The cover is worn slightly at the edges, its dark surface carrying faint scratches gathered through years of use. When he opens it, several pages filled with careful handwriting appear beneath the morning sunlight spilling across the desk.
Kael picks up his fountain pen.
The metal tip hovers above the blank page for a brief moment before finally touching the paper.
Dark ink spreads slowly across the surface as he begins to write.
"In one of my past lives, I was born in a country named India."
"It existed on a planet called Earth."
The scratching sound of the pen quietly fills the room.
"I was not born into a prosperous family."
"But it was stable."
"There was my mother, my father, and a small middle class house."
"My father worked as a government employee, though I no longer remember exactly which department he served in."
Kael pauses briefly.
His eyes lose focus for a moment, as though looking far beyond the room around him.
Then he continues writing.
"Back then, I was considered good in studies."
"Because of that, my father often told me to prepare for competitive examinations."
"I tried."
"But I failed."
The pen moves more slowly now.
"Afterward, I decided to join a state government college which accepted students even at low percentiles."
"I continued my studies consistently."
The next lines appear after a longer silence.
"But during my first year, my father lost his job."
"There was a bribery case."
Kael's grip around the pen tightens slightly.
A small drop of ink gathers near the edge of one word before he continues.
"Though honestly… if he truly accepted bribes, perhaps I would have ended up studying in some large private college instead."
A faint bitterness lingers silently within the sentence.
"After losing his job, he became addicted to alcohol."
"Eventually he began drinking every day."
The room remains still around him.
Only the scratching sound of ink against paper continues.
Kael lowers his gaze further before writing the next lines.
"In that entire life, until the point I remember now, I never experienced romance."
"No girlfriend."
"No relationship."
He stops briefly again.
The sunlight near the window shifts quietly as clouds pass outside.
Then he writes once more.
"I was never particularly handsome."
"And because of that, I never had much confidence."
"Not enough to approach a girl."
"Not enough to confess my feelings to anyone."
Kael's pen remains still for a few seconds after the last sentence.
The ink at the tip darkens slightly before finally touching the paper again.
He continues writing.
"But even so…"
"I used to feel jealous of people who had girlfriends."
His handwriting slows slightly there, as though the admission itself feels strange to place into words.
"Because I also wanted to experience that feeling."
"To be loved by someone."
"To matter to someone in that way."
The faint ticking of the clock beside the room continues steadily.
"I tried several times to approach girls."
"But every time I stopped halfway."
Kael's eyes lower quietly.
"I would lose confidence before even speaking properly."
A faint dry smile almost forms on his face.
Almost.
"Sometimes I thought…"
"If I cannot confess, then perhaps someday a girl who loved me would confess instead."
The pen pauses briefly.
"But that also never happened in my life."
The sentence ends simply.
Without drama.
Without exaggeration.
Just a fact written quietly into paper.
Kael exhales slowly before continuing again.
"Then during my fourth year of college, my father died."
The atmosphere of the room seems to grow heavier after that line.
Even the sunlight near the window feels strangely distant now.
"Financially, his death did not destroy us."
"By then I had already managed to get a job in a decent company."
His grip tightens slightly around the pen.
"But mentally…"
The ink drags faintly longer beneath the word.
"It affected me a lot."
Silence fills the room again for several moments before he continues writing.
"I did not cry."
The sentence appears small compared to the others around it.
"Not because I did not care."
Another line follows beneath it.
"But because somewhere inside myself…"
"I had already accepted long ago that this man would not remain beside me forever."
The scratching sound of the pen grows quieter.
"His alcohol addiction had already begun taking him away long before death finally did."
Kael stares silently at the page for several seconds after finishing the sentence.
The room remains warm.
Peaceful.
Yet the memories resting within those lines carry a coldness no fireplace could remove.
Slowly, he leans back into the chair.
The fountain pen remains loosely between his fingers while his gaze stays fixed upon the diary page now filled with fragments of a life buried in another world.
Kael lowers his eyes toward the diary again.
For a brief moment, the heaviness lingering within the previous memories softens slightly, like winter frost touched by the first pale light of morning.
Then the pen begins moving once more.
"After some years, my mother told me to get married."
A faint pause.
"So eventually… I did."
The corner of his mouth lifts almost invisibly.
Not sadness this time.
Something quieter.
More distant.
"I was twenty eight years old when I married."
"It was an arranged marriage."
The scratching sound of ink against paper continues steadily through the still room.
Then his handwriting slows slightly as though the next part requires more care than the others.
"If I were to describe my lovely wife…"
For the first time since opening the diary, a trace of warmth settles into his expression.
"She was beautiful."
The sentence remains simple.
Yet strangely sincere.
"She had a wheat fair complexion."
"And she was around three inches shorter than me."
Another short pause follows.
"Though to be honest, I myself was only five foot eight."
A faint breath escapes him through his nose, almost resembling amusement at his own unnecessary clarification.
Then he continues.
"She was twenty seven years old when she married me."
The sunlight spilling across the desk shifts gently again as clouds drift somewhere beyond the mansion windows.
Kael's pen lingers above the page for several seconds afterward.
As though merely writing about her quietly pulls old memories back into motion.
Not dramatic memories.
Not tragic ones.
Just small fragments.
The kind that stay with a person longer than they expect.
A face illuminated by kitchen light.
Soft footsteps inside a small apartment.
A tired voice asking whether he had eaten dinner yet.
The ordinary warmth of a life once lived.
Kael's pen continues moving slowly across the diary page.
The tension that had once lingered within his writing begins fading little by little, replaced by something softer. Warmer.
The kind of warmth carried not by grand memories, but by ordinary conversations shared between two people late at night.
"And this time…"
"I was finally able to experience love."
His gaze remains fixed on the page.
"For the first time, I began understanding what romance actually was."
The faint ticking of the clock echoes gently through the quiet room.
"As we slowly grew closer by talking to each other every day, I once asked her a question."
Kael pauses briefly before writing the next lines.
"I asked her why she chose to become a housewife."
"Especially in a world where most women wanted jobs and independence."
The pen glides steadily again.
"I asked her why she did not wish for the same."
For a moment, Kael's eyes seem to drift away from the room around him.
As though he can still hear her voice answering somewhere far beyond memory.
Then he writes her reply carefully.
"She told me she was never very good at studies."
"Because of that, after finishing tenth grade, she chose humanities."
"Later she completed a BBA degree."
A small smile touches his face unconsciously.
"She said she originally wanted to work."
"But her family was somewhat orthodox."
The ink darkens slightly where the pen slows.
"So they refused."
Silence settles softly around the room again.
Not painful silence.
Just quiet reflection.
"Eventually she accepted her fate."
"And after some years… she married me."
Kael's fingers tighten faintly around the pen before loosening again.
Then he continues.
"She also told me that before meeting me, she rejected many marriage proposals."
His brow lifts slightly even now while remembering it.
"Not because the men were bad."
"But because she wanted to avoid marriage itself."
Another line follows beneath it.
"Her family had already begun searching for husbands for her immediately after she graduated from college."
The sentence ends quietly.
Kael leans back slightly afterward, staring down at the diary page now filled with fragments of another existence.
A strange thing.
In his current life, he has crossed forests filled with unnatural creatures, searched forbidden rituals, and remembered worlds beyond death itself.
Yet somehow—
One of the memories that remains clearest to him is simply sitting beside a woman and listening to her talk about her life.
Kael remains silent for a long while before the pen begins moving again.
This time, the handwriting loses some of its steadiness.
Not enough to become unreadable.
Just enough for the emotion beneath it to quietly show through.
"If I remember correctly, we were blessed with a son three years after our marriage."
A faint warmth settles across his expression again.
"At first, I did not even know how to hold him properly."
The corner of his lips lifts slightly.
"I was afraid I might accidentally hurt him."
But the warmth fades gradually as the next lines appear.
"However, something was wrong with our son."
The scratching sound of the pen slows.
"He could not properly eat or drink."
"He constantly suffered from fever and cold."
"And many nights he could not sleep."
Kael's eyes lower further.
"When we finally went to the hospital, the doctors examined him carefully."
The next sentence forms more slowly than the others.
"The X-ray reports revealed two small holes in his heart."
Silence fills the room.
Outside the mansion windows, distant winter wind brushes softly against the glass.
"They told us he immediately required surgery."
A small ink stain forms near the edge of one word before he continues.
"Otherwise…"
The sentence does not finish.
It does not need to.
"So I used nearly all of my savings for the operation."
His grip tightens slightly around the fountain pen.
"And thankfully… it succeeded."
A quiet breath leaves him.
"Afterward, he slowly became healthier."
"He could eat properly."
"He stopped falling sick so often."
"And eventually he began sleeping peacefully."
The heaviness within the writing lightens again little by little.
"Life became peaceful after that."
Then another sentence appears.
"And later… we were blessed with a daughter."
For the first time in several pages, a faint genuine smile appears on Kael's face.
"After she was born, I truly felt as though my life had become complete."
The pen pauses there briefly.
As though even now, the memory itself carries warmth strong enough to cross death.
Then slowly, the writing continues.
"One day, while returning home from office…"
His eyes grow distant again.
"It was my daughter's birthday that day."
The room feels quieter now.
Almost unnaturally so.
"I was going home to celebrate with them."
The next sentence arrives slowly.
Carefully.
"But a metro bridge collapsed on me."
Kael's hand stops briefly before moving again.
"It had only recently been inaugurated."
The ink darkens beneath the pressure of the pen.
"I died on the spot."
No dramatic wording follows it.
No desperate emotion.
Only truth.
"I could not see my mother, my wife, or my children one final time."
The sunlight near the desk feels pale now.
Distant.
"Still…"
"I do not think they suffered financially after my death."
Another quiet pause.
"I had an insurance policy worth one crore."
"They likely claimed it and continued living properly."
The sentence feels practical.
Almost painfully practical.
As though a dead man is trying to comfort himself with calculations.
Then finally, the last lines appear.
More slowly than all the others.
"But before leaving…"
"I wanted to meet them one last time."
Kael's eyes remain fixed on the page while writing the final sentence.
"And thank them for being part of my life."
The pen trembles faintly.
Only once.
Then:
"Goodbye all."
The final period settles onto the page quietly.
Kael stares at the diary for a very long time afterward.
The room remains warm.
The mansion remains peaceful.
Yet somewhere deep inside him, another man from another world quietly says farewell to the family he never truly stopped loving.