Remembrance of you part 8
Lando Norris X You / 5.1K / slow burn
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 9
Summary In this life, he’s a driver and you’re a girl trying not to fall for him, not again. You were supposed to be invisible, a cousin hidden under Ferrari red, tucked safely behind Charles Leclerc’s shadow. But fate never forgets its favourites.
Once, in a life long buried by time, you stood on the edge of ruin, torn apart by duty, silence, and a falling legacy. Centuries later, under Monaco's golden sun and the scream of engines, your souls meet again, unaware of the story echoing in their bones.
You dream of a forgotten crest, the piercing ache of sadness. He feels it in flashes, a phrase, the way your eyes hold storms and memories. As old symbols surface and the past claws its way into the present, an erased history, and love, quiet, steady, terrifying, beg for a second chance. If fate brings you together over and over, maybe this time, you’ll be brave enough not to run.
Warning To read the chapter without the former ones will be quite confusing, swearing, explicit sexual content (18+)
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The Leclercs decided to spend the New Year in the mountains, at a ski resort that the family regularly visits. You and Lando arrived just a day after the others. This was the first time Lando had met the family again after both of you got together.
The chalet was glowing with firelight and laughter. Charles was arguing with Arthur over ski routes for the next morning, Lorenzo was already pouring himself another glass of wine, and you were cuddled into Lando’s side on the couch, basking in the rare quiet moment between holiday chaos. Alexandra was sitting by the fireplace with Leo sleeping in her lap.
Until after dinner, when Pascale gently placed a hand on Lando’s arm.
“Can I borrow you for a moment, sweetheart?” she said, tone pleasant but unmistakably firm.
Lando’s eyes flicked briefly to you, but you only gave a small encouraging nod. You knew this was coming. He followed Pascale out onto the back terrace, the snow lightly falling around them in soft flurries.
The silence stretched as she folded her arms across her chest, eyes focused on the mountains before finally turning to him.
“You know I adore you, Lando.”
“I hope so,” he said, managing a small smile. “You’ve always made me feel like part of the family.”
Pascale returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes this time.
“That’s why I need you to understand what you’re holding now. Y/N… She didn’t grow up with much softness after her parents were gone. She became strong because she had to. After Charles’ father left, both of them took care of each other and the family when no one asked them to. And in case it hasn’t sunk in yet, she is, without exaggeration, irreplaceable to us.”
Lando’s smile faded, replaced by something far more serious.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” she said gently. “But as her only adult family member living, I need to also act like the father figure here. I’ve seen boys who fall in love with the idea of someone strong, and then resent her for being complicated. For having scars they can’t fix.”
“She is complicated, I'm very clear about it, and that’s why I choose her,” he said. “Because her complexity makes her honest. She’s layered. She’s… everything. And I’m not here to fix her. I just want to stand next to her. Through whatever comes with her.”
Pascale’s eyes searched his face, quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
“Good. Because this family protects its own, Lando. She might not carry the Leclerc name, but she’s more blood than half the people who do. And you know those sons of mine might look like golden retrievers, but they will turn into dobermans if you mess with them.”
“I know, the last thing I need is to have Charles put me into the wall during a race.” Lando joked a little, but his voice was steady. “I know what I’m asking for. I’m not scared of it. Of her. Or whatever she carries.”
Pascale blinked, something softening in her expression. She reached up and placed a warm hand on his cheek.
“Then, thank you for not letting her carry everything alone.”
“If you need a haircut, you give me a call.” Pascale joked before getting back into the house.
Lando stepped back inside a little after, cheeks pink from the cold, but his eyes found yours like a compass.
You didn’t need to ask what happened. He didn’t need to explain.
He just walked over and took your hand in his.
“All good?” you whispered.
“Better than good, she even says I can call her whenever I need a hair ut.” he murmured and grinned, lacing his fingers through yours.
“You know she doesn’t do just anyone’s haircut these days.” You were a bit surprised.
“I guess I’m on her good side now.”
“She’s seeing what I see in you.”
And when he kissed you that night, it tasted like peace. Like something won, not given. Like something ancient, finally, finally coming full circle.
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Before the vacation ended, Charles and Lando decided to talk about the media issue. While you were on vacation, the Internet was clearly not.
Lando’s sitting on the arm of the couch, bouncing his knee.
Charles is standing, arms folded, gaze fixed on the floor as if that will stop the flood of internet chaos spilling into your lives.
You, curled up in the corner of the couch, feel like you’re being dissected by the world one pixel at a time.
“Honestly, I think it’s just outrageous the number of things they managed to dig up, and the number of people making statements. I talked to Lorenzo, perhaps it’s better to take the initiative and set the narrative straight. I don’t think it’s healthy for any of us to walk into a new coming season like this.” Charles was very serious.
“I’ve been dreading this.” You set your face in your palms.
“Y/N, you did PR, you know this is the better way, to take initiative and shut down the rumour, the longer this goes on, the more ridiculous things people will come up with.” Charles was right. That was how these issues should be dealt with. It was just that when it comes to your own issues, it was hard to just let go like that. You never had to be in this kind of position.
“It’s easy when it’s someone else. When it’s a client or a driver, or a sponsor. You do the media prep, you spin the angles, you manage the headlines. But this time… It’s me. It’s my name, my photos, my past. And I don’t even remember half the people claiming to know me.”
Lando walks over, crouches down beside the couch.
“We don’t have to hand them everything. Just enough. Enough truth to stop the fiction.”
‘The safety will come with the truth, and when it comes, you need to ride towards it and not away from it.’ You kept remembering what the tarot reader said. You were not a superstitious person, but after the dream and vision conversation you had with Lando, something told you to listen to whatever she said. Like the voices, Lando’s voice was begging in your dream.
You ended up agreeing with the plan, and that was what they did.
It started with GQ's ‘what’s in my bag’ interview, Charles pulled a small file notebook that you arranged all the latest information about projects for him to read during his flight or whenever he had time.
“So this… This is from my cousin,” he smiled.
“Technically, she’s the project manager of everything I do outside racing. Also, the unofficial boss of my life. This is all the updates I need to read whenever I have time. Feels like the parent notebook you had back in high school.” The more he talked about it, the more he smiled, lots of funny memories of how you forced him to have that with him.
“If I don’t have this or I didn’t read it, she’ll force me to finish everything in front of her. So yes. It stays in the bag all the time.”
He offers nothing else, no name, no drama, but it was a clear and straightforward message.
Then, in Australia, after the first race, they set a question in the after-race fan interaction where Lando was asked about seeing someone.
“So, yes, we’ve known each other for quite a while and decided to be together,” Lando couldn’t help but speak with a big grin on his face. Making some fans awwed. “But we really want to keep it private. Unfortunately, it had to come out like that back in Texas last year. I was actually sick, and she was there to make sure I was okay for the race that weekend. And it was a kind of breach of security for sure, the team is still investigating it. And in the meantime, I hope everyone can respect our privacy and respect her if you see her around because she’s also here for the amazing work she’s been doing for her family.”
Back in Monaco, everyone was back to their preparation, but it was either you staying at Lando’s place or Lando staying at your place in Beausoleil. You finally had a couple of days of free time while Lando had to fly back to England for some meetings at McLaren.
You were curled up on your couch with Alexandra, the evening sea breeze rolling through the open windows. She had her legs tucked up and a glass of wine in hand, her phone glowing between you.
“So… let me get this straight,” Alex said, brows climbing higher with each word. “Lando knew about the letter. From your dream. Without you telling him.”
You nodded slowly. “And he’s seen… flashes. Like he was there.”
“Jesus, Y/N.” She whistled low, then drained her glass. “And the tarot woman said you died in a fire for not going with someone.”
“Yeah, and I’m pretty much that’s Lando.”
“Do you hear yourself? This is some Netflix limited-series level shit.”
You buried your face in your hands. “I know. I sound insane.”
Alex snorted. “Insane, but… compelling.”
Then she froze, thumb tapping at her phone. “Wait. Wait. I think I found her.”
You blinked at the screen. There she was, the woman from that day at the fair. Same sharp eyes, same cascade of silver hair.
You were sceptical when the woman proposed to do a hypnosis session if you wanted to see everything clearly. But after doing some research, you thought to yourself, you've got nothing to lose, really. You just really wanted to finally understand what this whole thing was about. So perhaps it could stop haunting you.
You were sitting on your sofa with your eyes closed, the woman’s on FaceTime, while Alexandra was sitting close by. The woman’s voice started to guide you.
The first thing you saw was you, in that past life, you saw yourself in the mirror, how you looked slightly different but yet the same.
Then it started with where you met the stable boy in the garden.
“Deal… what’s your name?” you muttered.
“What’s the boy’s name, Y/N?”
“Landric,” you muttered. Alexandra noted the details down.
“Now, what are you and this Landric doing?”
“He’s now older, he’s leaving.”
“Yes, he’s a knight, Charles said he’s one of the best.” Alexandra was shocked to hear you mutter Charles’ name.
“My cousin, they take care of me.”
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Lord Elric was charming, but you saw something behind that smile of his. His actions were bold but well thought out. He did not waste any time showing everyone his intentions. He did not oversee your little exchange glances with the knight across from the hall, whom, of course, his sister took an interest in.
“I wasn’t aware you had such gifted kin hidden in the court.” In one conversation, he witnessed your smart words, his eyes never leaving yours. “Though I suppose every kingdom needs its… quieter architects.”
Charles interjected then, too smooth to be ruffled. “She prefers books to banquets. A shame, really. You’d find her wit most frustrating in negotiations.”
Elric only smiled. But it didn’t take long for the air to change. That night, he lingered in the corridors longer than he should have. His men watched the halls. A courier’s satchel went missing. One of your letters was opened and resealed.
And the next morning, a page from Elric’s house was seen walking in the castle gardens where you and Landric used to meet.
Charles warned you quietly. “He knows something. Or he suspects. And if he names you, if he ties you to your family’s bloodline and the rebellion from years ago, he’ll use it.”
Landric didn’t need to be told twice.
Since the page from Elric’s house was more often in the castle gardens, you and Landric’s meeting had to change location, not really anywhere was safe enough, instead of the chamber where you were staying. Guards and ladies from your own kingdom were wherever you were.
Landric slipped into your chambers under the cover of silence, his cloak damp from the mist outside. Your ladies had finally retired, and you were alone, seated by the fireplace, a book open but long unread in your lap.
His eyes met yours immediately.
“We need to stop, Elric is getting too close,” you whispered before he even reached you.
But he crossed the room in two long strides and dropped to one knee in front of your chair. “Then say it like you mean it.”
You didn’t. You couldn’t.
“I’m not afraid of him,” he said, voice low, jaw clenched. “Let him watch. Let him suspect.”
“But we should be afraid, Landric. He’s not a fool. If he gets proof of anything, my bloodline, our connection, it’ll cost more than just reputation. You know what he did to the last noble house that defied his rules.”
His hand curled around yours.
“I’ll not stand by while he corners you in silence and poisons the court against you.”
You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch for a moment that felt stolen. “Charles is already walking a knife’s edge for me.”
“And I would burn that edge clean through if it meant you were safe,” Landric said, fierce and certain. “You are not alone in this.”
You opened your eyes again. The firelight caught the edges of his face, flickering against the scar that traced near his jaw, a mark earned in the same war that scattered your family’s legacy to the winds.
“He has your letter,” Landric said then, more quietly. “The one you wrote to Charles. The seal was opened.”
You flinched. “I only mentioned… a memory. The garden. The roses. Nothing treasonous. But…”
“But if he reads between the lines, and he’s smart enough to, he’ll know you and I have history. He’ll use it as leverage against the crown.”
A long silence hung between you.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” you whispered.
He rose then, pulling you to your feet with him. Your bodies were close now, breath mingling. His eyes didn’t leave yours.
“You won't,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “I would kneel before kings or gods if it meant keeping you safe.”
You barely had time to take a breath before his mouth found yours.
It wasn’t a rushed kiss, not at first. It was reverent. Like he’d waited lifetimes for it. Like he’d been holding his breath since the moment he saw you.
Your fingers tangled in the fabric at the front of his cloak, pulling him closer as he backed you toward the edge of the bed. His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as if trying to memorise the shape of your sorrow.
“I dreamed of this,” he murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “But I never let myself believe I’d be here, with you.”
“You have me now, you always have,” you whispered. “For as long as we have time.”
Your back met the edge of the bed, and he paused. Just enough to look at you, really look. His gaze roamed your face like a vow lived behind his eyes. “Tell me you want this. I won’t be able to do anything if you don’t tell me.”
“I’ve always wanted this,” you said, voice low, steady. “From the day I saw you back in that glamorous amour.”
He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands finding your waist, your spine arching into his touch as he guided you down onto the sheets. Landric touched you like you were delicate, every layer he peeled off from you was agonising slow. Both of you felt the ache, the need pulling you towards each other.
It was heat and hunger, yes, but also something deeper. Your fingers wove into his hair, anchoring yourself as he pressed against you. He kissed you like a man trying to memorise you with his mouth, his hands, his breath. His palm slid up your waist, tracing the last layer of fabric of your night gown like it offended him for keeping you from him.
His mouth trailed down your throat, past the delicate collar of your nightdress, which he eased off with maddening care, worship in every movement. Your breath hitched as he kissed the soft skin over your ribs, down your stomach, everywhere he could reach, as though he feared this might vanish if he blinked.
He lifted you to sit up in his lap. Your bodies met like they were always meant to, a slow, burning rhythm that made time stop. You whispered his name, once, twice, and he held you like a man swearing an oath with every grind, every kiss, every breath.
Time didn’t seem to exist for that night, just skin and breath and the quiet desperation of wanting to make up for all the years, all the moments stolen.
When it was over, when you lay tangled beneath the sheets, limbs still shaking, your heart trying to steady itself, you turned to him, resting your forehead against his. The only sound was the crackle of fire and the thundering echo of what this moment meant. You just reached for his hand beneath the covers and laced your fingers through his, holding on like a promise.
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Days later, the negotiation chamber was dimly lit, only the winter light bleeding in through the stained-glass windows. Charles stood tall at the head of the long table, flanked by his most trusted advisors. Lord Elric sat opposite him, wine untouched, gaze sharp like a hawk circling prey.
You were behind a decorative screen, hidden as arranged, listening, heart pounding.
Charles had been playing a dangerous game for days, slowly dismantling Elric’s leverage while offering him something almost better in return.
“Your trade interests with the eastern border,” Charles said coolly. “We’ll offer you autonomy in the river cities for three years. Your banner may fly alongside ours in council meetings. A seat for your sister in our cultural envoy. That should be more than suffice.”
Elric tilted his head. “I came for more than trade, Your Highness. I came for her.”
Charles didn’t blink. “You’ll leave with more power than you’ve ever held. A noble’s hand is not worth the ruin of two kingdoms. My lady in court, unfortunately, has no intention to accept the courtship.”
The air in the chamber thickened. A long pause. Then, finally, Elric leaned back in his chair with a smirk.
“Very well. You’re a better player than I gave you credit for, Prince Charles.”
The deal was struck. You and Landric would be allowed to return home with everyone, and Elric’s courtship would be formally withdrawn.
But that peace from an ambitious man like Landric came at a cost.
After Elric’s departure, a letter was delivered to you.
Sealed in dark wax with Elric’s crest.
You opened it in your chambers, Landric beside you, Charles sitting in the chair, while Pierre and Carlos paced near the hearth.
Inside was a single note:
I wonder if your kingdom would stand so loyal if they knew their lady in court was born of a traitor’s blood. Or that she harbours old loyalties in hidden letters and secret meetings. A shame, truly. Such beauty, wasted on rebellion.
You stared at it. Felt the floor shift beneath you.
Charles cursed under his breath and took the paper, scanning it with a hardened gaze.
“He knew. He was never playing fair,” Pierre muttered. “This isn’t about Lady Y/N anymore. He’ll tear everything down just to prove he can.”
Landric stepped forward, his voice steel.
“Then we fight back. Not with swords, not with armies. But with truth.”
Silence held the room in its grip. The letter rested on the table like a blade, sharp, poisonous, deliberate.
You felt Landric’s hand wrap around yours. Warm. Steady. But you could feel the tremor in his fingers, too.
“If we tell the court first, on our terms,” Carlos said again, pacing as if the stone floors might give him answers, “we take away Elric’s leverage. But it also means exposing every connection, every whisper. And we don’t know how far his spies reached. How many already suspect.”
Charles stood now, folding the letter in his hands tightly.
“They’ll ask why we didn’t tell them sooner. Why we hid it. They’ll question your loyalty, your intentions.”
Pierre nodded grimly. “They’ll question us, too. Why we protected her. Why we let her rise in court. This isn’t just political anymore, it’s personal.”
The fire cracked. You looked around the room, these men, these brothers-in-arms, who had stood by you, fought beside you. And now, they stood on the brink of a storm they hadn’t asked for, because of you. You felt your breath stuck inside of you.
“He won’t stop at this,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “Even if we silence this threat, Elric will come back. Through marriage, through war, through whisper networks. He’ll find another way.”
Landric stepped closer, cupping your face gently.
“Then let him. Let him try. We are strong enough to fend against him.”
His words were steady, but there was fire behind them. A protective, possessive fire.
“I love you,” he said. “Not despite your blood, not despite your past. Because of who you are. Every part of it. And I will not let a coward like him erase that.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, grounding yourself in that truth.
Charles’s voice broke the moment. “We’ll go to the court. But not with an apology. With strength. With unity. We bring her story first, full, unflinching. And we remind them who stood beside us in battles long before Elric ever sat at our table.”
Pierre cracked his knuckles. “And if any lords object, I’d be happy to remind them what a rebellion really looks like.”
Carlos smirked faintly. “We’ll need the Council. And the Queen Mother. If she supports it, the others will follow.”
“This could end everything. Or start something new.”
He nodded once, sharp and certain. “Then let on with it.”
You had known it for days now. Elric wasn't negotiating anymore. He was circling, watching, waiting, letting you think you were safe until he’d take it all.
You saw the danger long before the others did. Charles was trying to stay one step ahead. Carlos and Pierre were working day and night to secure safe passage back to your kingdom. And Landric, he was at your side constantly, like he could sense something was coming.
But this wasn’t a battle they could win. Not if you were still here.
The court was cracking under the weight of whispers. Fueled by Elric’s whispers, fanned into fire by fear and ambition. He had twisted the truth into something monstrous. Elric’s spies had leaked your bloodline, your hidden letters, your loyalty to your kingdom, and to Landric. It was only a matter of time before he turned every house in the alliance against you.
“They don’t just want answers,” Lorenzo growled one night, tossing one of the letters onto the war table. “They want blood.”
“They want her,” Charles said darkly. “Gone. Erased.”
“You must go tonight,” Lorenzo said in sadness, “There is a land in the far south, people there will accept you with open arms and take care of you temporarily. I will write them a letter.”
“If I go, they won’t just let you guys be. They will come for you, for me.
“Just go, Y/N, we will figure this out, at least we know you will be safe. Landric will go with you.” Charles pleaded.
You looked at Charles, then Lorenzo, then Landric, who had barely said a word since the letter arrived.
His jaw was tight, hands clenched at his sides. But his eyes, they were on you. Just you. Always.
“I won’t leave you behind,” you whispered, voice cracking.
“We’re not asking,” Charles said. “We’re protecting you.”
“You’re sending me away. Like I’m the problem.”
“You’re the target,” Lorenzo said sharply. “There’s a difference.”
Landric finally stepped forward, his voice soft but sure. “If there’s even a chance to keep you safe, I’ll take it. I’ll go with you. We’ll vanish before dawn, ride south with only what we need. We’ll find peace, Y/N. For once, you’ll be safe.”
But something inside you clenched.
You knew Elric. You’d seen the way he moved behind politics like a snake in silk. He wasn’t interested in justice. He wanted control. And if sending you away didn’t satisfy him, if he realised you were no longer here to use, he would punish those left behind.
He would ruin the alliances Pierre and Carlos fought so hard to preserve.
And in all that, Landric will have to fight, and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if anything happened to him because of you.
You waited until they were asleep.
You wrote the letters in silence. One for Charles, Lorenzo, and Arthur. One for Landric.
His was the hardest. Your tears smeared the ink.
You gathered all that belonged to your bloodline, family crest, letters, and anything that could serve as evidence. You made sure you were seen. You let the right eyes catch you leaving the east wing, heading toward the old tower, the place where Elric’s spies would be watching, where whispers could bloom into headlines, where a dramatic fall could write a new narrative.
Let them think you ran. Let them think you were panicked, reckless, alone. Let them chase you.
So they wouldn’t go for them.
The old archive had long been forgotten by most of the court, tucked beneath stone foundations, buried beneath layers of time and dust. You had discovered it years ago. A place where your family once kept records, treaties, letters, and relics. A vault of truth that, in the wrong hands, could become a weapon.
Your torch flickered as you moved quickly through the dim corridor, tossing parchment into the brazier. Ink-smeared letters, family seals, the last remnants of your lineage. You had already broken the signet ring. Burned the portraits. You would rather see it all destroyed by your own hands than have Elric twist your family’s name into something vile.
The fire was spreading faster than expected.
You stepped back, coughing, as the shelves caught. Smoke curled beneath the ceiling. The old structure groaned. A trap now, nonetheless.
You turned toward the heavy doors, just as they burst open.
Landric’s voice was raw with fear. He surged through the smoke, eyes scanning the chaos until they locked onto yours.
“Are you insane? You could’ve been killed!”
“I know.” You didn’t move. “But it has to be done. If Elric found this place…”
“I don’t care what he finds. I care about you.”
You held something out to him. The one thing you hadn’t burned.
Your family’s crest. The last piece of your name.
He took it, confused, trembling.
And then you handed him a letter, one you had folded and unfolded a hundred times before today.
“Take this, and go, Landric, I beg you.”
He looked at you like you were already fading. Tears pouring out of his eyes shamelessly.
“You’re coming with me,” he said, gripping your arm.
You smiled, but there was sorrow in it.
“If I leave, he’ll never stop. He’ll hunt us both. But if he thinks I was desperate, panicked, running, and willing to destroy everything, he’ll think the fight’s over.”
“I’ve got a horse outside. We can leave before they come. Now. Please just come with me.” His voice cracked, and the begging was so desperate that it hurt.
You pressed a kiss to his lips, firm and final, and you could taste the salty sorrow from the tears. “I love you.”
The ceiling creaked above. The fire surged.
Then you shoved him back hard toward the door.
“Go, Landric. Carry the truth. Protect them. Live.”
His hands tried reached for you one last time, but the smoke swallowed you whole. He screamed your name in devastation. But he heard Elric's men approaching. He knew he needed to go, for now. He rode his horse, breathless, into the night, clutching the seal and your final letter. Behind him, the archive collapsed into flame, and with it, the last visible trace of your name.
But not your legacy. Never that.
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“Now, try to slowly get out of that, Y/N. I’m calling you back to reality, to the present. You are safe now, with me and Alexandra by your side.”
You heard the echo of the woman’s voice slowly solidify, and the burning hot feeling quickly faded.
“Now slowly feel your body in the present, and slowly open your eyes when you are ready,”
Your lashes fluttered, the world around you slowly solidifying, no longer ancient stone walls or smoke-choked corridors, but back in your living room. The subtle scent of coffee from the morning, the warmth of a blanket over your legs. A steady hand gripping yours.
She was right beside you, tears running freely down her face. You blinked and realised your own cheeks were wet too.
You sat up slowly, breath shaky. The emotions hadn’t faded with the vision, they clung to you like smoke, raw and aching.
“What happened to him?” your voice broke into the silence. “Will I get to know? Will I ever know what became of him?”
You could still see Landric’s eyes in the flames. The way he held the crest. The way you left him behind.
The woman offered a kind smile, though her voice held weight. “Your past life’s story ended there. You cannot see what you did not live. The soul only shows what it remembers. Only he, or someone who witnessed the rest, may hold the ending.”
“But perhaps that’s not the end at all,” she added gently. “Sometimes, the stories that go unfinished in one lifetime… find their way back to us in another. The cards from our previous reading told us so.”
You glanced at Alexandra, who squeezed your hand tightly.
And suddenly… a memory flickered. Not from the past, but from this life.
His voice, his touch, the visions he told you about. The way he looked at you like he knew. Like he’d always known.
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