The rain had eased to a drizzle by the time Kunal and Ananya reached his apartment. The Mumbai skyline, drenched and shimmering under the streetlights, looked like a city caught between time—modern, yet ancient in its own chaotic rhythm. As Kunal unlocked the door, a strange feeling settled over him, a weight that had been pressing on him since the encounter at the library.
"You sure you're okay?" Ananya asked, stepping inside and shaking water from her hair. "You've been spacing out since we left."
Kunal exhaled sharply, pulling out a cigarette. "I don't know, Ananya. Something about today... it felt like a puzzle piece snapping into place. But I don't even know what the puzzle is."
She gave him a disapproving look but said nothing as he lit the cigarette. Smoke curled around him, a familiar comfort in the midst of the unknown. He walked over to his desk, where his laptop and a few scattered books lay open. The manuscript page they had copied at the library was still on the screen.
"This text... I shouldn't be able to read it," Kunal muttered, tracing the words on the screen. "But I can. And not just understand—it feels like I've written this before."
Ananya frowned. "That's not normal, Kunal. And don't tell me it's just déjà vu. This is deeper. What if... what if you really are remembering something?"
Kunal turned to her, his gaze sharp. "Remembering what? A past life?"
She hesitated but nodded. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but after today? After what happened at the library? That man knew you, Kunal. And those words..." She tapped the screen. "You reacted like they meant something."
He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident. "I don't even believe in reincarnation like that. I mean, sure, dharma, karma, all that makes sense to me, but remembering a past life? That's fiction. That's—"
"Is it?" Ananya interrupted. "Because if it is, then how do you explain this?"
She grabbed one of the old history books they had brought from the library, flipping rapidly through the pages. When she found what she was looking for, she turned the book to him.
It was an illustration—an ancient carving depicting a young man with sharp features, long hair, and a resolute expression. He was clad in regal armor, a sword at his side, standing beside a great emperor. The caption read:
Prince Kunala, Heir to the Mauryan Throne.
Kunal felt his breath catch in his throat. The face in the illustration... it wasn't exactly his, but there were undeniable similarities. The sharpness of the eyes, the way the jawline curved—it was like looking at an echo of himself.
"No fucking way," he whispered.
Ananya leaned forward. "You see it, don't you? And look at this." She pointed to a passage beneath the illustration. "Kunala, the son of Emperor Ashoka, was known for his wisdom and devotion to dharma. But he was betrayed, blinded, and cast away. Some legends say he died in exile. Others say... he vanished, his story lost to time."
Kunal swallowed hard. A sharp pain shot through his temples, as if something deep within him was trying to break free.
And then—
A vision.
Darkness. Cold. The scent of damp stone. Chains rattling in the distance. He was kneeling on the floor, his hands pressed to his face, and there was blood—so much blood. Footsteps echoed toward him, a voice filled with cruelty whispering, You will never see again.
Kunal gasped and stumbled back, knocking over a chair.
"Kunal!" Ananya rushed to his side. "What happened? Are you okay?"
He blinked rapidly, his breath uneven. "I saw... something. A prison. Darkness. And I was there. I was there."
She gripped his shoulders. "This is real, isn't it? You're not just dreaming these things. They're memories."
Kunal ran a shaky hand over his face. "I don't know what's happening to me, Ananya. But if this is real... if I was really him—Kunala—then I need to find out what happened to me."
Ananya nodded. "Then we start digging. If history erased you, we'll bring you back."
Kunal looked down at the book, his mind racing. His life had always felt directionless, like he was drifting through the motions. But now? Now, he had a path. A past to uncover. And a destiny waiting to be reclaimed.
Outside, the rain had stopped. But inside, the storm had only just begun.