The next morning, I found myself wandering along the outskirts of the village, as I often did. There was something about this land that never failed to enchant me. Towering toddy and coconut trees framed the foothills, their long fronds swaying gently in the breeze. Wild shrubs and jasmine creepers spread across the slopes, filling the air with a soft, earthy fragrance. It was untouched, ancient a place where time itself seemed to move slower.

As I walked, a burst of laughter carried through the warm afternoon air, pulling me toward a familiar hillock. Children. Their delighted giggles echoed across the land, surrounding a figure I hadn't noticed before.

A man stood among them, speaking with a quiet intensity, his voice rich and melodic. The children hung onto his every word, and before I even realized it I did, too.

"Education is the key to your future," he told them, not as a mere statement, but as a promise. "Knowledge will open doors for you that you never imagined."

Then his voice dropped, firm and unwavering. "Bharat is colonized. We will study their syllabus, infiltrate their government, and crumble their empire."

Something in his tone sent a shiver through me. Not of fear but recognition.

I stepped closer, drawn to him in a way I couldn't explain. He wore a crisp white shirt tucked into khaki trousers, held up by dark suspenders neat, disciplined. His leather shoes, though dusted with earth, did nothing to diminish his presence. The sun cast a golden glow on his tanned skin, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. And then there were his eyes deep brown, warm, and alight with something I couldn't quite name.

And suddenly, as if sensing me, he turned.

Our gazes locked.

The world around us seemed to blur, as though the universe itself had conspired for this moment. A spark of recognition flared in his eyes, mirroring the unsteady feeling in my own chest. It wasn't just an attraction it was deeper. Something older. As if my soul had been searching for his through lifetimes, only to find him here, standing before me in the most unexpected of places.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

A soft, knowing smile.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, his voice warm, threaded with something I couldn't quite place. "I'm Uday, the village schoolteacher."

I swallowed, forcing myself to speak. "Saudamini."

My name felt foreign on my tongue, as if this moment had rewritten something fundamental within me.

"Saudamini," he echoed, rolling the syllables with an unmistakable familiarity. His smile deepened. "A beautiful name for a beautiful soul."

Heat crept up my neck. "Thank you, Uday. The children seem to adore you."

"They are the future," he said simply, glancing fondly at the children who were now giggling amongst themselves. "It's a privilege to guide them."

I followed his gaze, taking in the scene the lush foothills, the modest schoolhouse perched atop a hill, its stone walls blending seamlessly into the landscape. The breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and fresh earth, grounding me in a moment that felt both fleeting and eternal.

For the first time since my transmigration, something shifted.

Here, in this quiet village, amidst laughter and warm earth, I felt a sense of belonging. A quiet, hopeful longing I hadn't expected.

Get a grip, Damini. I clenched my fingers. There are more important things to do.

"Have a good day," I said abruptly, turning to leave before my emotions betrayed me.

But just as I stepped away, his voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Saudamini," he called, a quiet amusement in his tone.

I hesitated.

"Don't you remember me?"

I turned back, my breath catching at the twinkle in his eyes.

And just like that, my world tilted on its axis.