I was sitting across from Vara Vane.
The candle between us flickered, casting dancing shadows against the exposed brick of the bistro walls. Outside, the cobblestone streets of Berlin were slick with a fresh evening downpour, reflecting the amber glow of streetlamps, but inside, it was warm.
Vara was wearing that vintage olive green coat she'd thrifted, the one she claimed made her look sophisticated but really just made her look adorable because the sleeves were slightly too long.
God, she was devastating.
It wasn't just the green eyes or the way the candlelight caught the red waves of her hair, turning them into spun copper. It was the way she looked at me. A look that stripped away the armor I'd spent two decades welding to my skin.
"You're staring," she said, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Her green eyes sparkled in a way that always made my chest tighten.
"I'm admiring," I corrected, my voice steady, though my palms were sweating against the tablecloth. "There's a difference."
"Is there? Because from here, it looks like you are trying to count my eyelashes."
"Maybe I am. I'm at forty two. Don't blink, I'll lose count."
She laughed. It was a sound like wind chimes in a quiet room… startlingly pure. I reached under the table, my hand finding a bouquet I'd hidden on the chair beside me. It wasn't roses. Roses were cliché and Vara Vane was anything but cliché.
They were deep blue Cornflowers.
I brought them up and her eyes widened, the green in them catching the candlelight.
Her eyes widened. Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh Aryan..."
"You told me once, that these grew behind your grandmother's house before you had to run," I said, my heart hammering a rhythm against my ribs that felt louder than the ambient jazz playing in the background. "I know we've been through hell. I know things are… complicated. But you're the only thing that makes sense to me. Be mine?"
The silence stretched thin. The waiter froze with a bottle of wine tilted over a glass.
Then, she smiled. It was the sunrise after a long winter.
"Yes," she whispered.
She stood up, ignoring the other patrons. I stood to meet her and she crashed into me. Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me down, burying her face in the crook of my shoulder. I could smell her shampoo and it was the most intoxicating scent in existence.
"Yes, You idiot." she whispered against my skin.
Then she pulled back, just an inch. Her eyes searched mine, looking for something… doubt or hesitation. But she only found deep love for her and she closed the distance.
Her lips were soft, tasting of the spiced wine we'd been drinking. It was a deep kiss, the kind that blurs the edges of the world until the only thing that exists is the pressure of her hand on my nape and the beat of her heart against my chest. It was the moment my life truly began.
I closed my eyes, sinking into the kiss, wanting to stay in this moment for eternity.
CRACK.
And then the ceiling dissolved.
The plaster peeled back like burnt skin, revealing a screaming void of absolute nothingness. The waiter disintegrated into gray dust. The table and the floor beneath my feet… they simply ceased to apply to the laws of physics.
Vara pulled back, her eyes wide, but they were filled with the static of a dying television channel.
"Aryan?" she asked, but her voice was warping into a demonic grind. "What did you… "
The universe folded in on itself. The darkness rushed in, eating the light, eating her and eating me.
I woke up gasping, my lungs dragging in the air as if I'd been drowning. The sudden movement rattled the headboard against the wall. I sat there for a moment, my heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic rhythm trying to outpace the memory of the void.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
I ran a hand over my face, wiping away the cold sweat and let out a shaky breath that sounded too loud in the silence.
"Yeah, yeah, get a good look. Hope you brought popcorn. Nothing like a little morning trauma to start the narrative arc, right?" I muttered, my voice raspy. I turned my head slightly to the left, staring at the empty corner of the bedroom. There was nobody there, of course. Just a generic IKEA dresser and a lamp that looked like it belonged in a catalogue for 'Unremarkable Living.'
"You know, this doesn't make sense," I told the empty corner. "I'm a Reality Master. I have absolute control over the fundamental constants of the universe. I can rewrite the laws of physics by blinking. I can turn gravity into a suggestion. And yet, I still wake up sweating from a nightmare like a terrified toddler? That's just lazy writing. Or maybe it's poetic justice. Reality always differs from what you know, doesn't it?"
I swung my legs out of bed. My feet hit the hardwood floor.
"In my previous life… I was a General Physician," I continued, standing up and stretching. My back popped, a satisfying sound. "I had a good life. Or a normal one, at least. I was twenty six. My mother was constantly on my back about getting married. 'Aryan, look at Mrs. Patel's son, he has two kids already!' she'd say."
I walked to the window, peering out through the blinds. The streetlamps of Yellow Springs were humming with that distinctly American electric buzz. It was 4:45 a.m. and the world was still asleep.
"I was too lazy for relationships," I confessed to the windowpane. "The drama and the expectations... who has the energy? I used to joke that if I ever got married, it would have to be to someone like Vara Vane from the novel 'The Heart of the Witch Hunter.' Someone who is fiercely loyal and understands pain. Be careful what you wish for, right?"
I turned away from the window and headed toward the bedroom door.
"I died in a car accident. T-boned at an intersection by a guy who thought a red light was a suggestion. I died in the ICU of the very hospital where I worked. I remember looking up at the ceiling tiles… one of them had a water stain I'd been meaning to report to maintenance for weeks and thinking, 'Well, this is ironic.' Then, lights out."
I navigated the hallway with the ease of someone who had memorized the layout, even though I hadn't lived here long. The house was a suburban two story. Perfectly average and designed to blend in.
"Now, you might be wondering," I said, descending the stairs, trailing my hand along the banister. "Why am I in this universe? Why am I talking to thin air? Am I crazy? Maybe. Grief does funny things to the brain. But I like to think I'm talking to you. Yeah, you. The one watching. Or reading. Whatever medium this is."
I reached the kitchen. It was too clean. It looked like a showroom and considering where we were, was another layer of irony I didn't have the energy to unpack yet.
"Let's get some breakfast. I'm starving and if I don't eat, I get cranky. And a cranky Reality Master is bad for property values."
I opened the fridge. The light illuminated rows of perfectly organized groceries.
"Yellow Springs, Ohio." I said, grabbing the eggs. "The timeline is... well, it's 2026. Vara is staying at a hotel nearby while her house is being built. She thinks she's finally safe."
I set a pan on the stove and twisted the knob. The flame sparked to life.
"In my past life, I always thought American breakfast was the most overrated concept in culinary history. Pancakes? Just sugary bread. Cereal? Kibble for humans." I cracked an egg into the pan with one hand, listening to the sizzle. "But here I am, cooking it. Because when in Rome... you do as the Romans do."