A Love Beyond Time

Chapter 3: Threads of the Past

The next day, Celeste couldn’t stop herself from seeking Ethan out. It wasn’t like her to be this curious about someone. She was used to people chasing her, not the other way around. But Ethan wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before.

She found him sitting under the oak tree again, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. He looked so serene, completely absorbed in whatever he was drawing, that she hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say to him.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “Hey, Ethan.”

He glanced up, surprised to see her. “Celeste,” he said, her name soft on his lips. He closed his sketchbook and motioned for her to sit beside him.

As she sat down, she noticed his fingers tapping nervously against the cover of his sketchbook. He was nervous—something about that made her smile.

“So,” she began, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about yesterday. About... other lives.”

Ethan’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together. “Yeah?”

Celeste hesitated, unsure of how much to share. Finally, she decided to take the plunge. “Do you ever have dreams that feel... real? Like, not just dreams, but memories from somewhere you’ve never been?”

Ethan’s grip on his sketchbook tightened. He nodded slowly. “I do.”

She leaned in, her heart racing. “I’ve had this dream—this recurring dream—where I’m in a house. It’s cozy, full of books and warm light. And there’s someone there... a boy. I never knew who he was, but now...” She trailed off, studying his face.

Ethan swallowed hard. “Now you think it’s me.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve had the same dream?”

He nodded again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve drawn that house so many times, and I never understood why. But when you described it just now... it felt like you were describing something out of my sketchbook.”

Celeste’s breath caught. “Can I see it?”

For a moment, Ethan hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, he opened his sketchbook and flipped to the page.

There it was—the house from her dream, exactly as she remembered it. The bookshelves, the warm glow of the lamps, even the faint outline of a record player in the corner.

She touched the page lightly, as though afraid it might vanish if she pressed too hard. “This is it,” she whispered.

Ethan watched her, his mind racing. “I don’t know what this means,” he admitted. “But it’s not just a coincidence, is it?”

“No,” Celeste said firmly. “It’s not.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the revelation settling over them. The sounds of the campus seemed distant, muted, as though the world around them had faded into the background.

Finally, Celeste broke the silence. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Ethan looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “I don’t know. But if I did... I think you’d be mine.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she laughed softly, the sound both nervous and delighted. “That’s a bold thing to say, Ethan.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You asked.”

For the first time, Celeste felt like she was seeing the real Ethan—the boy behind the aloof facade. He wasn’t just quiet or mysterious; he was thoughtful, intuitive, and, in his own way, brave.

“So what do we do now?” she asked, looking up at the sky as if it might hold the answer.

Ethan followed her gaze. “I guess we figure it out together.”

That afternoon, Celeste found herself unable to focus in class. Every time she tried to concentrate, her mind wandered back to Ethan, to the way his eyes darkened when he talked about his dreams, to the way he seemed just as confused about all of this as she was. It was both thrilling and terrifying.

She pulled out her phone and typed out a message.

Celeste: Do you want to meet later? I feel like we should talk more about this.

She hesitated for a moment before pressing send. Almost instantly, her phone buzzed.

Ethan: Yeah. Meet me at the library after class?

Celeste felt her heart skip a beat. She quickly typed back:

Celeste: See you there.

The hours dragged on until finally, the last bell rang. She practically sprinted to the library, her pulse quickening as she spotted Ethan at one of the tables, his sketchbook open in front of him.

“Hey,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him. “So… I’ve been thinking.”

Ethan looked up, his expression serious. “Me too.”

She took a deep breath. “What if these dreams aren’t just dreams? What if we’re remembering something real?”

Ethan tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “It sounds crazy, but… I don’t think you’re wrong.”

She glanced down at his sketchbook. “Have you drawn anything else?”

He hesitated, then flipped the page. Her breath hitched. It was a portrait of her—not just as she was now, but in different eras. One drawing showed her in a flowing dress, standing by the ocean. Another had her in what looked like ancient armor, a sword in her hand.

Celeste traced a finger over the drawings, feeling a shiver run down her spine. “How did you…?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan admitted. “I just draw what I see.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the whole universe had shrunk down to just the two of them.

Finally, Celeste whispered, “We need to find out who we were.”

Ethan nodded. “And what it means for us now.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew—this was just the beginning. And whatever mysteries lay ahead, they were going to face them together.