Those two weeks passed like feverish dreams.
Our chats were constant, vibrant—like we were anchoring each other through a sea neither of us fully understood.
His quarantine back home felt less like safety and more like a quiet version of house arrest. Meanwhile, I had taken my little family—my kids and I—back to my parents' village outside the metropolitan city.
The restrictions there were looser. Life slowed down.
The government had banned most travel. Only essential trips were allowed, and even then, only with masks and steriliser in hand.
Schools shut down. Kids, of course, happier than ever.
Offices went digital. Zoom became a trend, no longer just a camera mode. I knew how silly that sounded—even as I said it.
Each day brought new restrictions. More silence from the outside world.
And yet, strangely, I had never felt closer to Kaelen—as if the world had to pause so we could finally meet.
It was stillness. And chaos. All at once.
Oddly, it felt almost like a retreat.
[…]
Soon, three months passed.
My big brother finally moved his family into our parents' house. They took the second floor.
The kids were happier than ever—it finally felt like a real holiday.
After their online classes, they'd play games with their cousins, their loud voices echoing through the stairwell.
I was a decent cook. Never a hobby, but my big family liked my food.
I remember my niece, back when she was still in elementary school, once asked why this auntie—me—never applied for MasterChef.
My answer: "If I go to MasterChef, then who's going to cook delicious food for you?"
Same story with these brats—they'd eat whatever my brother or his wife ordered and say, "It's good… but not as tasty as Auntie's cooking."
Made me either wanna facepalm or cry.
Still, the two-hour rhythm each morning before I got busy with work became a kind of meditation.
But inevitably, that so-called meditation brought memories back.
Sometimes, it was just emotions—grief, longing, tenderness.
But other times… it was more.
I talked to my bestie about it. Yes, I had one special friend—Auriel.
She read tarot cards for a living. She was a superb clairvoyant. Her clients were big shots, people of influence.
Sometimes I wondered why we even became besties—me, the practical skeptic. Her, the wild mystic.
She of course knew about Kaelen.
What is it? What exactly is your concern?" she asked in a voice note.
You know I've been waiting," I replied.
For?"
That voice. That voice that always said 'it won't last' whenever I got into a relationship. This time with Kaelen, it seemed it been compromised."
She sent me ROTFL stickers. Enjoy 😉" following with the message.
Sis, come on. I'm serious here."
Right now I'm not allowed to tell you" she replied. Cryptic like she always did.
I can only tell you that you and Kaelen were bound. How, when, or why—you'll unveil it eventually."
I wanted to roll my eyes on her. But that was it.
She switched our chat to some otherworldly phenomenon that had caught her attention.
As skeptical as I was, chatting with her always nudged something open in me. So, reluctantly, I added my share of vision to her observations.
Thanks to our late-night chat, I woke up before dawn.
I walked down to the backyard. And for the first time in a long while, I had space to breathe. To just be.
I slipped into a quiet rhythm—my breathing.
That stillness stirred something inside me. As I settled deeper into meditation, I found myself slipping inward.
The visions began.
They came in fragments at first—like old photographs popping one by one. Fleeting flashes of a place I couldn't name. Eyes I'd met before. Wind breeze, glittering river flow in a time that wasn't now.
But soon, the fragments gathered form.
The visions played like an old film reel, unbroken.
Scenes unfolded like chapters of a book I hadn't read—but somehow already knew by heart.
And I just knew… it was too late to ask for 50-50, phone-a-friend, or ask the audiences.