Chapter 11: A Familiar Stranger

Satya left the abandoned Rathore estate with the old sketchbook clutched in his hands, his mind tangled with memories that felt more like whispers from another life. The weight of the past pressed down on him, but there were still too many missing pieces.

As he walked through the narrow lanes of the old town, lost in thought, a voice called out from behind him.

"Excuse me… have we met before?"

Satya turned, his heart skipping a beat.

An elderly man stood there, his eyes narrowing as he studied Satya's face. He looked no different from the other townsfolk—dressed in simple clothes, his posture slightly hunched with age—but there was something in his gaze. A recognition. A familiarity that Satya couldn't place.

"You look just like someone I once knew," the old man muttered, rubbing his chin. "A friend… from long ago."

Satya's breath caught. His fingers tightened around the sketchbook.

"Who?" he asked cautiously.

The old man let out a deep sigh. "A boy named Veer. But that was a lifetime ago."

The Friend from Another Life

Satya felt the world tilt.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The man chuckled. "I don't expect you to believe me, but I swear… you have his face. The same sharp eyes, the same way you carry yourself. It's almost like looking at a ghost."

Satya swallowed hard. "Tell me about him."

The old man's expression softened as he leaned against a nearby wall.

"Veer was a commoner, just like me. We grew up in the same village. But he was different. Talented. While I worked with my hands, he worked with his mind. He could sketch anything—faces, places, even moments he imagined. He used to say that sometimes he drew things before they even happened."

A chill ran down Satya's spine.

"What happened to him?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

The old man shook his head. "I don't know. The last I saw of him, he had been appointed as a sketch artist for the royal families. It was a rare opportunity for someone like us—a commoner working for nobles. But after that…" He exhaled heavily. "He vanished. No one ever spoke of him again."

Satya's heart pounded. This man—his friend from another life—knew only the beginning of his story. But what had happened after he was appointed as a royal artist?

And most importantly… what had happened to Meera?

The Girl in His Sketches

"Did he ever talk about anyone?" Satya asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The old man nodded, a knowing smile on his lips. "Oh, all the time. There was a girl."

Satya's chest tightened.

"He never told me her name, but he used to sketch her over and over again. He said she was someone he could never have… but someone he couldn't stop thinking about. He once told me that just looking at her made him forget everything else."

The words struck deep. They weren't just stories. They were his own emotions, echoing back at him from another lifetime.

"Did he ever meet her?" Satya asked.

The old man hesitated. "I don't know. The last thing he told me was that he was finally going to see her again. He said it felt like fate was giving him a chance."

Satya's hands trembled. A chance… but for what?

Had he and Meera ever been together? Or had fate torn them apart before they even had the chance?

The memories were still incomplete, but now he knew one thing for certain—Meera wasn't just a dream. She was real. She had always been real.

The past wasn't done with him.

And neither was she.