Love needs no time to bloom—but it shatters when time says no. Centuries stretch like oceans between them, vast, cold, and unforgiving. They cannot walk the same road—yet their hearts refuse to turn back.
~~~~~
Kitbok stays inside his home.
His thoughts churn, heavy and unresolved. He's torn—torn between what his heart wants and what reality demands. Is it even right to defy his parents for a girl who isn't an ordinary human? For someone who doesn't belong to this world… or even this time?
He doesn't have the answers. It's all too much.
The situation feels surreal—chaotic and impossible. Yet, one thing is achingly clear: the love he feels in his heart cannot be offered to anyone else. Not now. Not ever.
Despite meeting her only a few times, despite the strange nature of her presence—an echo more than a person—Kitbok has fallen for her. There's something in Ahmaya's aura that continues to pull him toward her. He feels deeply linked to her. He knows it happened too quickly. He knows she's not like anyone else. She isn't even fully here. And yet, the bond is undeniable.
But how can one love someone who isn't really part of this world?
These thoughts gnaw at him.
Falling for a strange girl. Not being able to speak to her. Trying to erase her from his thoughts. It's all driving him mad.
He sits in silence, calling himself foolish. Stupid. Insane. Because he fell in love with someone who can never truly be his—someone who must return to a timeline nearly a hundred years away.
The heartbreak is quiet but relentless.
He doesn't even know where she is now. He can't reach her.All he can do is wait, suffer, and endure.
Am I ruining my life?
Can I ever truly love the woman my parents have chosen for me?
Will love ever come that easily again? The way it came with Ahmaya?
"Mum," he calls out suddenly.
His mother appears in the doorway. "Yes?"
"I want to meet the woman you and Dad have chosen… I want to see her three times—on three different days—before the marriage happens."
"You can't just meet her like that…" She looks surprised, almost hesitant.
"I promise I'll be respectful. I won't say anything foolish. I just need this, Mum. Please."
After a pause, she nods. "Okay. I'll speak to your father and arrange it."
.
Seated by the window with the Terrapin beside her, Ahmaya watches the water and fishes with the same level of anxiety as Kitbok.
She wonders what Kitbok is thinking.
Maybe he's already decided to forget her.
Maybe he's accepted the match his parents arranged.
Maybe he's realized just how impossible this all is.
Ahmaya is devastated, but she consoles herself by reminding herself that everything is for the best. This is for the great: he will marry a good girl and live happily, while I will master my powers and return to 2025. This is for good. This is how it should be.
Although she approaches this situation with maturity, she can't escape the aching in her chest.
She knows the truth: there's no room for romance between someone from 1935 and someone from 2025. A century is too wide a chasm to cross.
Like Kitbok, she calls herself foolish. Immature. Reckless.
She regrets dragging him into this chaos. From the beginning, she knew this wasn't her place, her time—yet she let her heart move. She let his kindness in.
She should've stopped it. Stopped him.
Before he fell in love.
Before she did.
She knows she has already broken his heart.
Now, it feels like she's ruined the life of a good man—a man who was innocent and oblivious about the Aokma mess. A man whose life should have been simple.
How can she live with that guilt?
And worse—why does she still feel drawn to him?
Ahmaya wipes a tear and resolves not to see him again. No matter what her heart says, she won't make this harder for either of them. She must focus. Discover her powers. Depart.
They are both saddened, frustrated, disappointed, and regretful. Even though they know they can't be together, they're finding it more and more difficult to live apart.