The Memory Between Us

He had never seen her before, yet the moment their eyes met across the bookstore, his heart clenched.

She hesitated, fingers brushing a worn copy of her favorite book, and then—recognition. “It’s you,” she whispered.

He stepped closer, pulse hammering. “Do we…know each other?”

She smiled, wistful. “Not in this life.”

Memories surged—flashes of a battlefield, a candlelit ballroom, a rainy train station. Different times, different faces, but always her.

She touched his hand, and the warmth felt like coming home. “Maybe this time,” she murmured, “we’ll get it right.”