Remember Me?

Chapter 4 - Hyun-woo

"Dead serious. We were murdered," I state, my eyebrows furrowing as I hand her the newspaper article on it.

"Holy shit. Murdered? You mean, like, we were reincarnated or something?" she questions. Her trembling hands pick the newspaper up, and her eyes widen while she reads the fatal story of Ally and Eunwoo.

"Yes. I think. I don't know," I reply, scratching my head.

"'Ally Miller and Eunwoo Nam were an interracial couple involving a white woman and an Asian man. Although they were set to be married, they planned to do so illegally. Marriage between White people and non-White people was not allowed. However, they did not care and chose to continue living as a public couple and marry unofficially. One night, they were on a date celebrating the week before they were to be married when a man destroyed the restaurant, looking for them. This man was Ally's brother, Kyle Miller, who severely disapproved of the relationship. He believed Eunwoo should be punished for being with his sister. As the couple attempted to escape, Kyle caught up to them and bashed Eunwoo's head with a short steel pole. Ally attempted to stop her brother, but he accidentally pushed her too hard. She ended up falling backward onto a large, sharp rock that was lying on the side of the road. The blow killed her instantly while Kyle beat Eunwoo slowly to death," Jasmine read aloud, her voice quivering and her eyes staring at the page.

A lump grows in her throat: "If this is true, that we are this couple reincarnated, I'm so sorry. Technically, I'd be responsible for your death." My face looks to the floor at her words.

"No. It's not your fault. It was an ignorant racist time, and it wasn't allowed to marry interracially. So, what do we do with this information? Keep it?" I respond as I move my head up to make eye contact. Her eyes glimmer as she gives a soft smile, easing my stomachache.

"I guess...we keep it. I've heard sometimes it can affect your future life, so you have to keep it in case it's useful," she says as she looks back at the newspaper article.

"What if...the dreams are a warning for us? Like that the past is going to repeat?" I question.

My question hangs in the air, and for a moment, there's only the sound of our synchronized breathing and the faint rustle of the newspaper as Jasmine's grip tightens. Her eyes flick up from the article, meeting mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

"We can't let that happen," she whispers, her voice a mix of determination and fear. "We have to ensure we don't end up like they did. We need to be careful, watch our backs."

I nod, feeling the weight of our past lives bearing down on us. "Maybe there's a way to break the cycle. We could try to find out more about Kyle and see if he's... here, now, like us."

Jasmine's eyes widen, and she sets the newspaper down gently as if it might crumble under too much pressure. "You think he might be reincarnated, too?" she asks.

"It's possible," I reply, "If we find him, maybe we can confront the past head-on and change the outcome this time."

She bites her lip, contemplating. "But what if confronting him only accelerates what's meant to happen? What if we're speeding up our fate?"

"Let's not worry for now. If you give me your number, we can update each other on what's happening in our dreams." 

Jasmine hesitates momentarily, then nods, pulling her phone from her pocket as I hand her mine. I type my number into her phone, and she does the same. "We need to be prepared," she states, handing the phone back to me. "For anything."

"I agree," I respond. "We'll keep in touch. Maybe together we can make sense of these dreams and our past—or our past lives, rather."

As we exchange a look of mutual understanding, a flicker of something passes over her face—a mixture of hope and apprehension. "I've never believed much in fate or destiny," she admits, "but maybe there's something to this. Maybe we're supposed to fix what went wrong. Start over?"

"Yeah, maybe," I mutter. "If nothing else, we can try to learn from it and make sure we don't make the same mistakes. Though I can't see how we would, it's not the 1950s." She shrugs, and we laugh it off. We parted ways after buying a drink and talking more in-depth about our dreams. As I leave, the weight of our conversation settles in my mind like a dense fog. 

That night, as I lie in bed, the dreams come again. But this time, it comes in hazy, broken fragments. I cannot determine what's happening other than the sharp pain from being beaten. It must have been from the end of the couples' lives—eventually, my vision returns.

I adjust my eyes to see the city around me, bustling with people. Perhaps this is before our deaths? I don't feel pain, and it seems like I'm in good shape. I look around, landing on a small bookshop nestled between a florist and a bakery, its windows adorned with an inviting display of novels and poetry collections. The store intrigues me, and something tells me to head towards it. I walk to the store, open the door, and step inside as the bell above the door announces my arrival. The interior is a cozy warren of towering bookshelves, the air thick with the scent of old paper and binding glue. It's here I spot Ally perched on a ladder, her fingers tracing the spines of books as she searches for a particular title. Her presence is like a bright thread woven through the muted tapestry of the shop.

"Looking for something special?" I ask, his voice soft yet clear in the quiet of the bookstore.

Ally looks down, her smile radiant. "Always," she replies, descending the ladder with a book in hand. "Have you ever read The Big Wave?" She hands me the book. Our fingers brush, and there is a spark of connection in the simple gesture.

"I haven't had the pleasure," I admit, looking over the book she gave me. 

We sit in a reading corner, discussing literature, art, and dreams—of travel, freedom, and a world that might one day understand their love. After a bit, we notice the sun beginning to set. 

Before grabbing food, we walk to a nearby, quiet park; the city sounds now distant. We find a bench to sit at near a tranquil pond, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and pink. Ducks glide across the water, ripples following in their wake, the scene a serene counterpoint to the vibrant city streets.

"I dream of a world where love like ours isn't just possible but ordinary," Ally says, leaning her head on my shoulder.

"And we'll build that world together," I respond, my voice imbued with hope and determination. "Today's a special day, you know. I have a surprise for you." 

"I cannot wait to see," she answers, pecking my lips before we stand up. As we go to the city streets, I recognize the beginning of my first dream of Ally. This must be it—the day of our deaths.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates violently on my nightstand, jolting me awake. I'm partially glad I woke up, but I wish I could have finished the dream. I need to know more about what happened that day. I look at my phone. It's late, the clock blinking at 3:03 AM, and Jasmine's name lights up the screen. My heart skips a beat as I press to accept the call. "Jasmine," I answer.

"Hyun-woo," her breathless and urgent voice says, "I had the dream again. But this time, something was different. Kyle... he knows we're here."

The air in my room grows cold, and a chill runs down my spine as her words sink in. As the line goes silent momentarily, I brace myself, knowing our journey has only begun.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter four! I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm back! I am going to attempt to finish this story this summer and then edit each chapter. If anyone wants to help with that, let me know!

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— Hannah