But if it was truly me, if in a past life I stood there, believing in these words… then it was painful to face it now, so raw, so unchangeable.
And if they wanted to use this against me? If they wanted me to change my decision about the ruler?
I would still say no.
Because even if that was me, I was nothing more than a person who had lost awareness of themselves. Someone who had been swept along by the moment. Back then, I made a logical decision—according to the logic of my world at the time. But now I know that it is the situation that shapes a person—and the ruler did not make such a decision. He saw clearly what he was doing.
And there is no excuse for that!
The world darkened once again. In that moment, I was trapped inside my own mind. As if I were both the observer and the one acting, all at once…
Avarka suddenly found herself on a cold floor. The space was timeless, as if she had stumbled into a fragment of another reality.
A modern bathroom stretched before her, with massive glass windows beyond which the city lights sparkled. Tall skyscrapers pierced the sky, their neon signs flickering with life, breathing energy into the night.
A woman sat in the bathtub, her strands of hair lazily floating on the water's surface. Across from her, a man knelt by the edge of the tub, his fingers gliding softly along her arm.
"You know what I feel, don't you?" the woman asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The man replied with a faint smile.
"I always knew."
"And did you know even when I wasn't here?"
The man paused, his gaze locking onto hers.
"I did. Because in some way, you were always here."
Avarka felt that these words weren't meant for her, yet she clung to them. As if she had spoken them herself. As if there was a hidden message buried within them, something she had yet to understand.
The woman lifted her hand, her fingers trailing along the man's face.
"And if I told you to stay?"
The man's expression tensed for just a moment before he smiled.
"You know I can't."
The woman inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.
"But if you could?"
The man slowly leaned in.
"Then I would never leave."
The moment stretched between them, as if time itself held its breath.
Avarka took a step forward. The marble floor groaned softly beneath her weight.
Then, at the edge of darkness, something moved. A pair of deep, emerald-green eyes flickered in the dim light—watching, waiting.
And Avarka knew she was not alone.
He knew who he was facing. In an instant, the glass wall that had separated him from what he had only observed shattered—now he was part of the scene. As he stepped forward, he submerged into the cool water of the bathtub, and the woman he had seen until now seemed to vanish as if she had never existed. She dissolved into mist, and he took her place. But the world did not pause for even a moment. As if it had always been meant to be this way, as if he had merely returned to himself.
The man did not hesitate. His fingers glided softly along Avarka's shoulder, and his touch felt so natural, as if he had known every movement of her body for a thousand years. Avarka's breath deepened—not out of fear, not from confusion—but because something else, something familiar, surged within her. A new yet old sensation. As if her consciousness was not solely her own, as if she had just regained a lost piece of herself. Memories pulsed within her, thoughts she had never thought before yet somehow belonged to her. A past life that now merged with her present.
The man leaned closer, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered:
— So, you've reconnected?
Avarka did not answer immediately. She just sat there, letting the emotions flow through her, then slowly lifted her hand and placed it on the edge of the bathtub. Her fingers left wet traces on the cold porcelain. She gazed out through the window at the skyscrapers, watching the neon signs flicker, the endless night swallowing the city whole. Then, finally, she spoke—her voice quiet, yet cuttingly sharp:
— Why now?
The man took a deep breath. The water rippled gently around them, as if even time itself was breathing with them.
Avarka slowly turned toward him, and for the first time, truly looked into his eyes. His emerald-green gaze was like the sky before a storm, filled with suppressed promises.
— Because we need each other. We were both tense. I wanted to feel you again.
The words echoed in Avarka's mind, but it felt as though they were not only meant for her, but for all those who had ever been inside her, who had once been her.
In the lukewarm embrace of the water, in the proximity of the man's skin, in the touch of his hips and the intertwining reality of their bodies, Avarka's lips trembled.
— You know I would always stay by your side. Always. But…
The man smiled, but his smile was veiled, sorrowfully knowing.
— But you always want to know more.
Avarka gave a small nod.
— I want to know what it feels like to live overflowing with emotions. What it's like when a single decision rewrites destinies. I want to know what it's like when a person believes they are doing the right thing, yet they do not understand what they have truly changed. I want to feel the weight of difficult choices, the pain, the joy. How can I be a celestial being if I have not lived through it all? I can only help a human with full understanding if I have walked every path of life. Wealth, poverty, war… And I want to know… — her voice faded, then returned with newfound strength — …why I am always drawn back to where I came from.
The man ran his fingers down her neck, murmuring barely audible words:
— Sometimes, sweet ignorance is better.
The words hung between them, both heavy and weightless. Avarka's heart pounded, her body moved instinctively as she wrapped her legs around the man's waist. She felt their souls and bodies moving together in a silent dance.
The man rested his forehead against hers, a mere breath separating them.
— When this moment ends, I will lose this awareness too, won't I? — Avarka whispered.
The man didn't answer right away. His fingers traced slowly down Avarka's waist, as if trying to etch this moment into reality.
— Perhaps.
Avarka let out a soft laugh, but it trembled.
— Then, at least for these few minutes, I want to know the answer.
The man's green gaze seemed to pierce deeper into hers. The water, the closeness of their bodies, the blurred memories—all vibrated around them.
— In my past lives, have I committed many sins? — Avarka asked softly.
The man's fingers ran along her jawline, his lips barely brushing against hers, as if he didn't just want to whisper the words, but to breathe their meaning into her, whispering between gentle kisses:
— Your only sin has always been that you loved me.
And in that moment, Avarka knew that no matter what she decided, no matter where she drifted, this truth would never change.