She kissed him goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t remember her tomorrow. Leaving him in his hut was even more difficult now that she had finally found him. But he was drunk, and waking up with a stranger in his own house wasn’t the introduction she wanted to make. So she left him alone, her heart pounding in her chest like war drums, spreading an ache of longing she could hardly bear.

It had been almost ten thousand years since she last saw his face. The face of her husband, who, despite all the misfortune and ill-treatment he had received in his life, still sacrificed himself to save the world. A world that might not even deserve saving at all. But Feiya had honored his sacrifice and protected the world he had died to save. That and their unborn daughter.

Gosh! Their daughter! Should she tell her that she had finally found her father? Ami longed to see him just as much as Feiya did. However, the man she found was just a reincarnated person with no memories of his previous life. Would that hurt Ami even more? It definitely hurt Feiya.

And then, there was the other thing. The huge elephant in the room that made Feiya angry beyond reason, as to make impulsive actions - like kissing him with the desperation of a dying woman, despite him being totally drunk. Or the reason behind his drunken state. Because when Feiya found him, he wasn’t just getting drunk for the fun of it, but because he was celebrating his engagement. He was getting married to another woman, and Feiya seethed at the knowledge. Of course, he didn’t remember her or that she was his wife, but it still made her furious.

Feiya walked through the forest with unsteady steps, the cool night air clinging to her skin like regret. She didn’t dare look back at the faint glow of his hut. She knew that if she did, she’d turn around and run to him again, consequences be damned. But she couldn’t afford that—not yet. Not when every instinct inside her screamed to claim him, to shake him awake, to shout, It’s me. I found you. It’s always been me.

The trees rustled above her, whispering with the same gentleness they had shown her for thousands of years, as if nature itself wanted to soothe her. But even the forest could not quiet the fury threading through her ribs like molten wire.

Engaged.

Her husband—her brave, stubborn, selfless husband—was engaged. To someone else. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms until she felt the sting of blood. She shouldn’t blame him. He didn’t remember the past—the lives they shared, the vows, the battles, the child he never got to meet. He didn’t remember the night he died in her arms, whispering her name as the world collapsed around them.

But still. Still, it hurt in a way she hadn’t been prepared for. Feiya stopped walking. Her breath trembled. She lifted a hand and pressed it over her heart, trying to calm the uneven beats.

Find him, the gods had said.

Restore him.

Wake the soul that once saved the world.

But the gods had conveniently forgotten to mention this—that she’d have to watch him love someone else. That she’d have to watch him smile with another woman, touch another woman, make promises he once made only to her.

A sharp snap echoed behind her. Feiya spun, a blade of silver light forming instantly in her hand. But when she looked around, she saw no threat—only a ripple of air, shimmering faintly like disturbed water. A familiar presence touched the edges of her awareness.

Ami.

A moment later, her daughter materialized from the distortion of space, her dark hair flowing behind her like a living shadow, and her eyes glowing with inherited divinity.

“Mother,” Ami said softly, though her voice carried an edge of accusation. “You found him.”

Feiya’s throat tightened. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t bring him home?”

“He wouldn’t have understood.”

Ami stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “You’re trembling.”

Feiya looked away, unable to hide the ache. “He… he’s engaged.”

Ami’s expression shifted—shock first, then something darker, protective, fierce. “To whom?”

“Does it matter?” Feiya whispered. “She’s someone he chose. Someone he loves now.”

Ami’s jaw clenched, her aura flaring with the raw power she usually kept restrained. “He loves you. He always did. Even after death.”

“He doesn’t remember that.”

“Then we’ll make him remember.”

Feiya lifted her eyes to her daughter. Ami looked so much like him—those determined eyes, that stubborn tilt of her chin. For a moment, the sight nearly broke her.

“Ami… if we interfere with his life now, we might destroy the new one he built.”

“And if we do nothing,” Ami said, stepping closer, “we lose him forever. Mother… do you want that?”

Feiya let out a shuddering breath. No. She didn’t. Not after ten thousand years of loneliness. Not after searching across realms, eras, and lifetimes.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

Ami held her gaze. “Then we fight for him.”

Feiya closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the tears had dried, replaced by a quiet, burning resolve.

“Very well,” she said. “If fate thinks it can take him from us again…” A faint, cold smile curved her lips. “…fate is going to learn what it means to lose.”


***


Morning crept in like a punishment, harsh and unyielding. He awoke to a piercing sunlight that seemed to split his skull, each beam a relentless, tiny hammer driving into his senses. His tongue felt parched, rough as sandpaper, and steeped in regret, and when he rolled onto his back, the room around him wobbled in slow, nauseating circles.

With a groan, he dragged an arm over his eyes, seeking refuge from the merciless glare. Never again, he vowed for the thousandth time, a promise weighed down by the gravity of his thoughts. But this time, the oath carried a deeper significance—because he was more than just hungover.

An unsettling sensation gnawed at him. Something was amiss within his heart. Or rather… something was glaringly absent. He sat up cautiously, wincing as memories flickered through the haze of his mind—echoes of laughter shared with friends, the clinking of glasses in celebration of his engagement, and one drink too many that spiraled into chaos—

And then— Soft, inviting lips brushed against his. Warm breath enveloped him like a tender embrace. A kiss that felt like a leap through time itself.

He froze, anchored by the weight of that moment. He recalled that feeling with startling clarity. But the face— He struggled to capture it, to sharpen the blur, yet the image remained a nebulous swirl of moonlight and shadow, indistinct like a half-remembered dream. All he could grasp was the lingering essence of sorrow. Of someone holding onto him as if she had been waiting for ages, eternally hopeful.

His chest constricted painfully.

“Who…?” he whispered to the empty room, his voice barely breaking the silence.

No answer echoed back, but the haunting memory of that kiss lingered—an intricate tapestry of emotions, both familiar and foreign, simultaneously wrong and achingly right. He pressed a hand against his sternum, as if trying to calm the peculiar ache that resided there. It felt as if something deep within him yearned to awaken… but wasn’t ready to face the dawn. Eventually, he washed away the remnants of the night, dressed and stepped outside, hoping that the crispness of the morning air could clear the fog clouding his thoughts.

His hut perched at the village's edge, where the ancient path wound its way into the embrace of the forest. It was usually a tranquil refuge—until today.

A moving wagon stood before the neighboring house, piled high with crates and bundles. The old place had been empty for years. Now, villagers walked in and out, carrying furniture and talking cheerfully about new arrivals. He should’ve kept walking. He had errands to run, preparations for the engagement ceremony, a life to keep in order. But he didn’t take another step. Because the moment they appeared, the world narrowed into a single, impossible point.

A woman stepped out from behind the wagon—a woman with calm, steady eyes and a presence that made the air shift around her. Beside her walked a girl, perhaps seven or eight, graceful in a way that didn’t come from ordinary upbringing.

He didn’t know them. He had never seen them. But the moment he did, he felt it—like an invisible string pulled tight between them. Something ancient inside him stirred. The woman looked up, and their eyes met. He didn’t breathe. He couldn’t. Her gaze hit him with the force of déjà vu so powerful his knees nearly weakened. Something deep in his soul whispered her name, though he had no idea what that name was. He blinked. The woman looked away too quickly, as if afraid of what she might do if she didn’t. Her daughter, however, stared at him boldly—curiously—almost knowingly.

His heart pounded. Do I… know them?

Ridiculous. He would remember meeting a woman like that. And yet— The ache in his chest sharpened, like a locked door rattling violently under the weight of something trying to break through. He forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to step forward.

“Um… hello,” he called out, voice more unsteady than he wished. “I’m your neighbor.”

The woman paused, her back stiffening for a heartbeat before she turned to him with a polite, composed smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “I’m Feiya. This is my daughter, Ami.”

Ami inclined her head with the barest hint of amusement—as if she already knew exactly what he was feeling.

He nodded automatically. “I’m…” He swallowed when his heart spasmed inexplicably. “Jin.”

Feiya’s expression flickered—just for a moment. A breath hitched in her throat so subtly he almost thought he imagined it. A strange warmth enveloped his spine. Why did her reaction matter so much to him? Why did her name echo inside him like a forgotten prayer?

He cleared his throat. “If you need help settling in—”

“No,” Feiya said too quickly, too tightly. “We’re fine. Thank you.”

Ami rolled her eyes just slightly, crossing her arms. “What my mother means is we’d be glad for some help.”

Feiya shot her a warning look, but Ami ignored it.

Jin couldn’t help smiling. Something about the girl felt familiar too—like a memory waiting to surface.

“Then I’ll help,” he said before he could think better of it.

And as he walked toward them, that invisible string tugged tighter—pulling him toward the two strangers who shouldn’t have meant anything to him.

But already did. More than they should. More than he could possibly understand.


***


Dinner smelled like home. Jin couldn’t explain why. He had never eaten with these two women in his life — and yet, something about sitting at their wooden table, with Ami making playful comments and Feiya quietly trying to keep her composure, made a strange warmth bloom in his chest.

They talked about harmless things at first. The town. The forest. His engagement — which made Feiya’s fingers tighten just a fraction around her cup, though she hid it well. Ami kicked her mother lightly under the table, shooting her warning glances whenever Feiya’s emotions slipped.

By the time the meal ended, Jin felt like he’d known them for years. It scared him. It comforted him. It made no sense. Ami excused herself earlier than expected, claiming she was tired from the move. Feiya didn’t argue, though the knowing look Ami gave her before leaving said everything: Don’t mess this up.

And then it was just the two of them.

Silence settled, but not an awkward one. It clung to them like a soft veil, heavy with something unspoken. Jin helped her wash the dishes, even though she protested twice. He insisted, and when their hands brushed in the warm water, something electric zipped through him so sharply he nearly dropped the plate.

Feiya froze. Jin did too. Their eyes met — and the ache in his chest returned, stronger, deeper, as if begging to be recognized.

He swallowed. “I… should probably go.”

“You should,” Feiya agreed softly.

Neither of them moved. Then she took one step closer. Something in her changed — or perhaps something she had been desperately holding back slipped free. Her gaze softened, darkened, warmed, and Jin felt heat crawl up his neck.

“Feiya…” he breathed, voice unsteady.

“You feel it, don’t you?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His pulse thundered. His skin tingled. His mind swirled with flashes of light, of a voice calling his name through centuries, of a kiss like moonlight —

But the face still refused to come into focus.

She reached up slowly, as if offering him a chance to pull away. Her fingertips grazed his cheek, feather-light, but the touch nearly buckled his knees. “Tell me to stop,” she murmured.

He tried. He really, truly tried. But the moment her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, something inside him — something ancient, something starved — shattered.

He closed the distance. Their lips collided with a desperate force that startled them both. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t tentative or cautious. It was the kind of kiss two souls share only after losing each other for lifetimes. She gasped softly against his mouth. He deepened the kiss. She pulled him closer. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, like they had done thousands of times before — though he didn’t remember ever doing it. But his body remembered. His soul remembered. Her. The world fell away. The past pressed in. And the bond that had frayed across ten thousand years snapped back into place with fierce, blinding certainty.

They tumbled into each other — not with the hunger of strangers, but with the aching familiarity of lovers reunited after ages of separation. Their souls reached first, touching before their bodies did. Light flared silently in the air, visible only to the divine. Feiya whispered his ancient name into his skin. He whispered hers without understanding why. And the night closed around them, warm and breathless.

When it was over, Jin drifted into sleep with his head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped around him protectively. Their souls remained entwined, pulsing with recognition and relief.

And then the memories began. Flashes at first — the world collapsing, a battlefield drenched in gold light, Feiya’s face streaked with tears, Ami’s unborn heartbeat echoing like a distant drum, his own death, her scream —

He slept for two days. Feiya never left his side. Ami guarded the house like a hawk. When Jin opened his eyes, the room felt different. Brighter. Quieter. Sacred. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe — not because he was weak, but because thousands of years of memories pressed into his mind at once, settling into place like the final pieces of a long-scattered puzzle.

And then he saw her. Feiya sat beside him, exhausted, her hair loose, her eyes red as though she’d been crying for hours or days. She startled when he moved, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Lian?” she whispered his ancient name.

He reached for her without hesitation — without thought, without fear — and when his hand touched her cheek, a sob broke out of her, raw and relief-drenched. “Feiya,” he breathed, voice thick. “My Feiya…I remember you.”

She collapsed into his arms. Ten thousand years of grief poured out of her in trembling waves, and Lian held her as if making up for every moment they had lost. He buried his face in her hair, kissed her temples, whispered her name like a prayer he’d been denied for lifetimes.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m back. I’m yours.”

“You left me,” she choked out. “You died— you—”

“I came back,” he whispered. “I came back to you. And I’m never leaving again.”

She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shoulder as he stroked her back gently, grounding her, grounding himself. Their hearts beat in perfect rhythm — two halves of a whole reunited at last. A soft knock sounded at the doorway. Both turned. Ami stood there, frozen in place, her eyes wide — eyes so much like his. She looked younger in that moment, stripped of her divine composure, trembling slightly as though afraid he might disappear again.

“Ami,” Lian whispered.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. He held out a hand. She hesitated only for a heartbeat — then ran to him. Lian opened his arms, and she crashed into him with a cry she had been holding back for years. She buried her face in his chest while his arms enveloped her protectively, instinctively, as though he had held her a thousand times before.

“My little star,” he whispered into her hair — a name he had once given her in the womb, when he sensed her spark even at death’s door.

Ami sobbed harder. “Father… I’ve waited so long.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Forgive me. For making you carry the weight of my absence.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, tears streaking her cheeks. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

He cupped her face gently. “I am. And I will be — always.”

Feiya’s hand slid into his. He squeezed her fingers, grounding himself in both of them. Their family — broken by fate, reunited by love — stood whole again.


***


He found his fiancée at the small garden behind her family home, trimming herbs the way she always did when she needed quiet. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, softening her silhouette. She turned at the sound of his steps and offered him a gentle smile that made his heart tighten — with gratitude, not love.

“Jin,” she said. “You look… better. Rested.”

Rested. If only she knew.

He stopped a respectful distance away, hands clasped before him. “There’s something I must tell you,” he said carefully.

Her fingers stilled over the rosemary. She exhaled slowly, as though she had been expecting this. “Your memories returned,” she said, not as a question, but a quiet truth.

Lian bowed his head. “Yes.”

She nodded, unsurprised. “I thought so. The moment I saw you this morning… your eyes were different. You looked as though you finally remembered where your heart lives.”

Lian’s throat tightened. “I have wronged you.”

“No,” she said softly. “You were lost. Confused. My father found you wandering in the woods with no name, no past. Anyone would have helped you.”

“And I mistook gratitude for obligation,” he said, voice strained. “I let myself be carried along by the kindness you and your father showed me. I thought… if I gave you my hand, it would repay the debt you never asked me to repay.”

She set down her pruning shears and turned to fully face him. “Jin,” she said gently, “You were never cruel. Never deceitful. But I’ve always known — even if you didn’t — that your heart was elsewhere. I saw it in the way you stared at the sky sometimes, like something far above was calling your spirit home.”

He closed his eyes, humbled by her insight.

“And now?” she asked softly. “Do you know where home is?”

He met her gaze, steady and sincere. “With Feiya and Ami,” he said. “With my family. It has always been them, even when I didn’t remember.”

A single tear slid down her cheek — not from heartbreak, but from release. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “Because you looked like a man searching for someone. Now… you look like a man who’s found them.” She stepped closer, took his hand, and pressed something into his palm — the small woven bracelet she had made for him weeks ago. “Keep this,” she said. “Not as a promise, but as a reminder that once, we were kind to each other. And that’s enough.”

He bowed deeply — the bow of a noble man honoring someone who deserved every measure of respect.

“Thank you,” he said. “For your compassion. For seeing me clearly, even when I couldn’t.”

She smiled, bittersweet but warm. “Go to her. Before fate gets impatient again.”

Lian let out a breath that felt like a lifetime’s worth of guilt leaving his lungs. He walked away lighter, freer — stepping toward the life, the love, and the eternity that had always been waiting for him.


***


That night, a silver path opened in the sky — a bridge of starlight only divine beings could walk. Feiya stood at Lian’s side, fingers laced with his. Ami stood on his other side, glowing faintly with anticipation. Lian gazed upward, memories returning like constellations rekindling one by one — his throne of dawnlight, his celestial responsibilities, the power he once wielded to protect the universe.

“I’m ready,” he murmured.

“Are you sure?” Feiya asked softly, searching his eyes.

He turned to her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “My home is not the Heavenly Realm,” he said. “It’s wherever you and Ami are.”

Her breath caught.

He smiled gently. “But to protect you… to protect everything we fought for… I need my powers back.”

Feiya nodded, tears shimmering but proud. Together, they stepped onto the radiant bridge.

As they ascended, golden light enveloped Lian. His mortal form shimmered, breaking apart into motes of stardust. His divine essence surged forth — brilliant, powerful, whole. His eyes glowed with the ancient dawn. The sky bowed beneath his return.

The Heavenly Realm opened its gates. Feiya slipped her hand into his once more. Ami stepped forward, her own divine aura blossoming like a young star finding its first light.

“Welcome home,” Feiya whispered.

Lian smiled — radiant, complete, reborn. “Let’s begin again,” he said.

And together, the reunited family entered the heavens — whole at last, ready to reclaim the eternity stolen from them.