Is Reincarnation Real?
I entered the supermarket, looking around nervously.
He’d said he was waiting by the frozen foods aisle. He’d been right on time, 10:00 AM. I’d deliberately dawdled at home, swapping out four different dresses before I finally settled on the outfit I’d picked out first. I’d taken my time with my hair and makeup, and hemmed and hawed my way to the car before finally pulling into the parking lot of the supermarket at 10:20 AM.
20 minutes late. Maybe he’d left already.
Or I was hoping he would have.
After all, it’s not every day that you set out to meet the person you loved six hundred years ago in a little Indian town.
I never believed in it. Until I met Khalid.
Khalid. My sunshine man.
We bumped into each other online – one of those numerous dating apps. I swiped right for fun, he did the same, we chatted casually. And slowly, we began discovering the similarities.
We grew up within three miles of each other. We attended university in the same area. His parents divorced when he was 11. My parents divorced when I was 11. He had a younger sister, I had a younger sister.
My favourite book was The Familiars, a book that not many had heard of. His favourite book was The Familiars. I majored in Psychology with minors in Journalism. Him? The same.
My dream was to live in Varanasi one day. His dream was to live in Varanasi one day.
And that moment, right there, was when I knew something was up. I went through a wild few days where I was sure he had stalked me, found out everything he could about me and then trapped me into falling for him.
But it wasn’t true.
Khalid was a Buddhist.
When I was at work one day, he sent me an article. Buddhism Reincarnation: Reality?
My first instinct was to scoff. What religion believes in reincarnation still?
Quite a few, apparently, as I found out from the article. And it was the only explanation that seemed to make sense.
I had loved Khalid in a previous life.
And now, here I was today, about to meet him for the first time.
I slowly walked towards the frozen foods aisle, wondering if I’d recognize him, if he’d see me before I saw him, if I should hug him or settle for a handshake.
What if we saw each other and realized we didn’t really like each other?
My breaths began coming faster as I walked closer to the aisle. Oh, this was a disaster! Why had I even agreed to meet him?
I turned the corner.
And there he was.
He looked up from the carton of milk he held in his hands and our eyes met. Just like that, the world faded.
He held my gaze as he walked towards me, and my breath quivered. I knew him. I had seen him before. Many, many times.
He was mine. He had been mine for years and years and years. For lifetimes.
He stopped in front of me and simply smiled, saying nothing. He recognized me too.
As if we had been planning this for lifetimes, I stepped into him and he stepped into me, and as I melted into his arms, I felt his warmth go around me like the sun I had longed for. He was the only one who could give it to me. Just like he had before, over eons.
Just like his name.
And my ever after.
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