-1.

Both of us were old souls, destined to relive the same tragedy again and again.

0.

Our story began in Sparta.

1.

The first time we met, your name wasn’t Joohyun, and my name wasn’t Sooyoung. You were Queen Irene, the most beautiful woman in the world. My parents named me Joy, and I was a princess from a faraway land called Troy. My brother and I went to Sparta on a diplomatic mission. Back then, I didn’t know that it was the first of our many meetings. I first saw you during the welcoming feast. You were much more beautiful than what I had imagined. The paintings and poetry did you no justice. You were like the sun; bright and radiant. You shine. I wanted to touch you so badly, but I couldn’t. Our eyes met, and I fell in love.

We first spoke that night. You were wearing a light pink gown, and you were gorgeous. You were the most beautiful person I had ever met. You greeted me and we chatted for a while. Your voice was enchanting, like a siren’s song. We talked and we drank and we danced and I fell in love a little more every time you laughed.

Many nights later, you called me to your chamber. Your husband, the king, was away with my brother and would not return until the next few months. We ended up tangled in the sheets, and it was the start of our forbidden affair. It wasn’t forbidden because both of us were ladies (there were many relationship like ours), no, it was because you were the queen and I was nothing more than a princess from a foreign country who was not even an ally of Sparta. I should have known better that our relationship was doomed from the start.

“The gods are cruel,” I said. I spent another night in your chamber. I rest my head on your lap, and you were my hair.

You chuckled bitterly. “They have no mercy, that’s why they’re gods,” you sighed. “Maybe, in another lifetime we could be together.”

I kissed you. “Run away with me.”

You laughed again. “I’m a queen. I can’t disappear like that.”

“We can live together in Troy. You and me, together.”

“There’s no happy ending for our story, you do know that, don’t you? You just can’t kidnap someone like what Hades did and get away with it. We’re not gods, Joy.”

I sighed, and you hugged me and kissed me again,

and again,

and again.

“I love you,” I said, as you held me in your arms. You answered with a kiss and an I love you, too.

That was the last time I saw you.

In that lifetime.

2.

The next time we met, you were a royalty, again.

In this lifetime, I was an assassin, hired by the Mongols, and you were my target, a young princess of the Goryeo dynasty. This time, my name was Sooyoung and you were Joohyun. The moment my eyes met yours for the first time after all these years, I instantly recognized you. More than a century had passed since our last meeting, but it still felt like I was in Sparta all over again. In your arms, on your bed. Our eyes met and I knew that you knew, you had always known that we would meet again.

I asked you to run away with me, again. And you refused, again.

“It’s okay. Go on, kill me. We will meet again. Maybe, in another lifetime, we would get a happier story,” you told me.

I had no choice, it was far too late.

I weep as I held your cold, lifeless body. Your head on my lap, your blood on my hands.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

A lifetime wasn’t enough to love you.

3.

We met again centuries later. This time, you found me first.

I woke up in Florence, Italy, 1609. I lived for 19 years before I met you again. This time, you were a nurse, and I was dying.

The Black Death had returned to Europe around two years earlier, and I was infected a year later. You were a visiting nurse who came from Sicily. My village was badly affected by the plague and most of its villagers had died. You saw me, and you recognized me, and you realized that we were trapped in this vicious cycle of dying and finding each other again and then one of us would die again. We were doomed from the start.

“The gods are cruel, indeed,” you muttered.

I remembered saying that lifetimes ago.

I wanted to touch you, to hold you, but I couldn’t.

“We will meet again, love. Next time, I’ll find you sooner. I promise,” you reassured. You sounded calm, but I could see the tears in your eyes.

“I’m tired of next times,” I muttered as I closed my eyes. I accepted death like an old friend.

Maybe, in another lifetime, the gods wouldn’t be so cruel.

4.

The year was 1793 and we were in a war-torn France.

I was a princess this time, and you were my lady in waiting. It was like Sparta all over again. Me and you, sneaking around the palace gardens. We stole kisses whenever and wherever we could. My mother and brother pretended not to see.

We were lying on my bed, our limbs tangled together, your hand holding mine. “Dans une salle pleine d'art que j'avais toujours regarder à vous,” I uttered, as I claimed your lips once again in a searing kiss.

You smiled, and it was like the sun. Blinding. And I kept falling

and falling,

and falling

for you.

I should’ve known that our happiness wouldn’t last forever. There were whispers of a revolution. The people were going to overthrow the monarch, they said. It was the sign of our impending doom. “Don’t worry, love. We will be alright,” you said one night, as we laid together. You were lying. I could see it in your eyes. And you knew it, too.

We both knew how this would end.

Months later, my family and I were thrown into prison, waiting for our trials. I died under the guillotine, several days after my parents and my brother.

This time, we didn’t get to say goodbye.

5.

There were many lifetimes when we weren’t born in the same place. We were lucky this time.

We were born and raised together in a small town in Poland. We grew up together. It felt so surreal. It felt so normal. I could hold you this time. I could kiss you this time. We were truly happy, for the first time since Sparta.

(Even though in this time, people frowned on us because they said that girls weren’t supposed to be in love with each other and it was wrong and they called us homouals, but we didn’t care as long as we had each other.)

I thought we would finally get our happily ever after, but no, of course the gods wouldn’t let us.

Everything changed when Germany invaded Poland. We were thrown into concentration camps, and both of us ended up in Auschwitz-Birkenau. We became inmates for three months.

One day, I saw you and lots of other young men and women forced into one of the gas chambers.

I never saw you again.

+1.

I was tired.

I was sick of dying, and seeing you dying.

But I kept trying to find you.

I found you in Sparta.

The year was 2016, and it was exactly 71 years since we last met. It was strange, being here once again. I was happy here, despite all the things that had happened to us throughout the centuries. This was the place where we met for the first time, after all.

We met in an art gallery. I was merely strolling by, with no intention of finding you. Yet, fate brought us together, once again. “’In a room full of art, I’d still stare at you’, huh?” you commented.

I turned around and I saw you standing there, smiling, still as stunning as ever. You were wearing a light pink sundress, the same shade as the dress you wore lifetimes ago (I still remember it as if it was yesterday). Your dark hair, your bright eyes, and your even brighter smile. All mine. “I said that in France, didn’t I?” I replied.

“Yes, you did,” you were still smiling. I wanted to kiss you right there. And I did. I brought my hand up to cup your cheek, and you pressed your cheek into my hand. “It’s been too long. I miss you so much.”

And then our lips met. Then our tongues. Our kiss was sweet, and slow, and passionate. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I chanted. And then I pulled away, my hand still cupping your cheek, and you were still leaning into me. “I hope the gods don’t us up this time. I really, really want to grow old with you,” I grinned.

You chuckled. “We deserve a happy ending, after all this time. I think the gods will give us a break, even only once.”

And then we kissed again,

and again,

and again.

Sometimes, one lifetime was enough.