You, the Whisper Across Lifetime

Chapter 18: Reality

After that night, something shifted. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But quietly—like how the air changes just before rain.

Kaelen didn't act differently, not in any obvious way. He still sent his morning greetings, still teased me with his usual one-liners, still called when the time felt right. But there was more steadiness in his tone now. Less hesitation. More presence.

And I… I didn't say much either. But I noticed.

It wasn't just him. Something inside me began to stretch. Like a string that had been pulled too tight was finally loosening. And yet, at the same time, something deeper stirred again—soft, like background static, but growing louder.

The visions were returning.

Not all at once. Just a flash.

A sense of weakness. Cold. My breath shallow, uneven. Something wasn't right. I could feel it—not in my head, but in my bones. Like remembering pain that had already happened.

I didn't know where it was. I didn't know who I was. But the emotion was familiar. A kind of surrender. Not to fear—but to exhaustion.

Fortunately, Auriel finally recovered. Her whole family tested negative on the second swab, and just to be safe, they quarantined for two more days.

The moment she felt better, we were back to chatting like nothing had happened. Voice notes, dumb memes, serious questions wrapped in sarcasm—it was our usual rhythm. No need to warm up.

There was a lot to talk about.

She asked,

"Still getting your flashes?"

I replied,

"You make it sound like I'm entering menopause 😑"

She answered with a stream of laughing emojis.

"Yeah. But it's slower now. Weird."

"Emotional weird or vision weird?"

"Both, I think."

I hadn't told her everything. Honestly, I didn't even know what to make of it yet. It wasn't like before—no full scenes, no clear stories. Just flashes. Like your body remembering something before your mind catches up. Like when you smell something and suddenly feel sad, but don't know why.

Then I typed:

"Do you think I ever lived long enough before? Like, actually reaching fifty? Growing old and wrinkly?"

She didn't reply right away.

"Of course."

"Really? Because all I've seen is me dying young. It's like I never make it past thirty-something. Makes me think this life is the only one where I get to grow old."

A pause.

"You reached hundreds once, remember?"

"That doesn't count. We were gods that time."

"Also true 😂"

"What?"

"You do believe visions only come when they need to, right?"

"Yeah. But sometimes I wish they came in order. Like a proper file folder."

"Spiritual Dropbox?"

"Exactly. With labels. 'Open when stable.' 'Skip if PMSing.'"

She laughed, then sent a voice note:

"I think you don't get full scenes now because it's not the time for answers. It's just time to sit with what's real."

That landed deep.

She wasn't wrong. I'd been trying to piece everything together—what each vision meant, which lifetime it belonged to, whether it was connected to Kaelen or not. But maybe this part of the story wasn't meant to unfold like a movie.

Maybe it was meant to be lived.

I was aware now that I'd gotten carried away—lost in visions, drifting from logic and my own skepticism.

She added,

"Besides… aren't you kinda in the middle of a life right now?"

"Touché."

We didn't need to say more.

Auriel always had that way—dropping a one-liner that stripped everything down to truth. I didn't have to explain my feelings to her. She just knew. The kind of friend who doesn't need your full story to understand where you're standing.

---

That night, I didn't try to meditate.

Didn't ask for visions. Didn't write anything down.

I just let the quiet be quiet.

Kaelen messaged, as usual—his "Good night, babe" came with a sleepy bear sticker and a crescent moon. I smiled, replied with a simple,

"Sleep tight, Kae 🐻,"

and put my phone down.

And I let it stay like that.

No sign. No download from the universe. Just a normal night.

And maybe that was the point.

Maybe not every moment had to be mystical or meaningful. Maybe holding a still moment—without reaching for more—was a form of grounding too.

---

Then the government released new rules on travel restrictions.

Vaccination programs began rolling out in phases. The first batch went to government workers, healthcare staff, and essential sectors. My brother and his wife were part of that list—they got their first dose and were told to carry their vaccine cards everywhere.

And just like that, a new kind of normal began to shape itself.

Vaccinated people were allowed to commute again, provided they showed proof. Offices reopened slowly, with restrictions. Cafés let people dine in—masked, distanced. Public places stayed quiet, but there was movement now. Cautious. Steady. Forward.

Kaelen noticed too.

"Looks like things are finally shifting, huh?" he texted.

"Yeah," I replied. "Just trying not to get my hopes up too high."

"Makes sense. Still… I like knowing doors are starting to open again."

I knew what he meant. And it wasn't just about work.

He had been waiting. Planning. Quietly calculating when it might finally be possible to come. His company still had business left here—and we still had something undefined between us.

We didn't speak of it directly.

But it was there—in the pauses between texts, in the steadiness of his voice when he called. In the way he didn't push, didn't promise—but stayed.

He rushed back to his hometown where his ID was registered.

That's how the system worked—vaccines were distributed by address. And Kaelen, being Kaelen, didn't waste time. He'd already looked up the list, checked registration procedures, mapped the whole plan.

He wanted a specific brand, too.

Not for trend or popularity, but because he'd done the research. Carefully. Thoroughly. I should've known—he never left anything to chance.

"I just don't want to risk unnecessary side effects," he said. "Especially if I need to travel soon."

That's when it hit me—just how precise he really was. I always knew he was detail-oriented. But this? This was different.

This was preparation.

He was getting ready. For what came next.

And even if we didn't say it out loud—we both knew...

That "next" might include me.

I could feel his excitement radiate through the screen. Getting vaccinated felt like a small victory, a step closer to control in an unstable world. He talked about side effects, guidelines, even the pros and cons between brands.

It made me smile. The same man who used to rant about how the mask loops hurt his ears now gushed about his vaccination plan like it was a strategic operation.

And maybe it touched me because... I'd already fallen deeper than I realized.

He asked when I'd be getting mine.

I told him the truth—I didn't know. Our ID was registered in a small village. The batch hadn't reached us yet. "Might take a while," I said.

"I see… but you know you can't go anywhere without it now."

"I know. My office is strict—we have to comply."

He didn't push. But I could feel it in the pause. He was already calculating the next phase. Distance. Time. Waiting.

And maybe... hoping.

I didn't reply with much. Just sent him a 🤦🏻‍♀️ emoji and laughed at his dramatic reaction.

But inside, something shifted again.

Reality was moving forward. The world wasn't normal, but it wasn't frozen either. And slowly, I could feel the pieces rearranging.

Even if I didn't know what was coming, I knew something was on its way.

We were getting closer.