I arrived at the temple, ready to choose my fate after reincarnation.
Meng Po appeared, her hair darker than I had imagined, and her face that of a graceful elderly woman. She walked forward, meeting my eyes. Those crystal-clear eyes offered solace and reassurance.
I followed her past the garden and rows of lilies. We sat down beneath a willow tree. The scent of flowers filled the silence between us.
Then she finally spoke. She asked if there was a piece of memory I wanted to relive before giving up every trace of my life—to enter the next life.
She placed a bowl of soup in front of me. This was the soup which, once consumed, would erase every memory of this life I’d lived. Not the days I rode my bike as a kid, chasing the wind—ever so slightly beyond my reach. Not the first time a boy held my hand and I tried to contain the butterflies growing in my stomach. Not the day I graduated from college, taking my last photo with both my mom and dad still around. Not the day I filed for divorce from the man I vowed to love in sickness and health, watching him walk away with who he thought was the true love of his life. Not the day I found out I had the same illness my mother had, with only one year left to live.
I watched the liquid in the bowl, the specks of dust dancing quietly. I stared at my reflection—something I’d come to know yet felt so unfamiliar at the same time. I almost couldn’t recognize the woman staring back.
Who are you?
Who have you become?
These questions echoed in the chambers of my heart.
“But the real question is,” Meng Po said, as if reading my thoughts, “who have you been?”
“You’re right... This is the first time the present doesn’t matter. The past does. Something I still can’t fully fathom. How did forty-eight years pass by just like that?” I frowned.
“If there is one moment you would like to relive, what would it be?”
The day I signed my divorce papers.
Silence.
She waited for my confirmation.
I nodded.
She nodded back.
**
It felt like eternity when I returned.
But I was sitting exactly as I left, facing each other in the garden.
Meng Po looked at me, this time smiling—a tender, forgiving smile. She seemed to understand. I did, too.
“That was the right choice,” she said. She answered a question to which I did not have the courage to ask.
It was the right choice...
The thought echoed inside of me.
There were moments... engraved in the sea of my thoughts... I know I could never let that man go, despite all the pain he caused. He was the one I wanted to see... one last time.
I saw him sitting next to me in the office at the Superior Court. Our shoulders inches apart, but the space between us a thousand miles.
I remembered the first time we watched a movie at my place. At first, we sat carefully apart—ensuring the distance between our shoulders protected our unspoken feelings. But towards the end, we inched closer... until our skin touched... and as if through that touch, our souls finally collided. This longing... finally met with a physical seal. That moment sealed our fate.
Ironically, fifteen years later, we would be sitting the same way—facing a stack of papers announcing our official separation. Two souls met... intertwined... then parted. My hand trembled as I signed my name. All the anguish rose in my chest again. I couldn’t hold my dignity, and tears streamed down my face.
I’m sorry, I heard him whisper.
Of course you’re sorry. There are too many things you should be sorry for. For coming home late. For not loving or caring when I needed you. For forgetting my birthday and fucking your co-worker on Valentine’s Day. For tearing my heart into tiny pieces and letting them burn in flames. For watching me fall to my knees, admitting my marriage was a failure... and that I was not the one for you.
“I loved you,” I said. Of all the things I could say, I chose the one that cut through me skin raw.
He opened his mouth—half surprised, half apologetic—yet no words came out.
“I always knew I wasn’t your first choice. From the very beginning, I was the one who approached you. I asked you out. I chased you. I hoped if I showed you my heart, maybe I could exchange it for yours. But I guess you were always hoping for someone better. Always looking for that woman—the one in your dreams. And you found her. You pursued her... something you never did for me. You’re an attractive man, so you deserve to have choices. I guess we were just... never meant to be.”
“...”
“We were meant to meet, but not meant to last. Our bodies collided. Then you let me go.”
“I’m sorry...”
I turned to him. Unlike in reality, I embraced him. Held him. My arms wrapped around him, feeble and defeated. I wanted him; my heart ached for him. I wasn’t ashamed to love him and I allowed him to put a dagger through my heart.
I felt his arms around me, gentle, careful not to crush what was left.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I had... I had loved you, too...”
“...”
“Thank you... for everything...”
Meng Po was still smiling when I woke from my reverie.
Her smile was gentle... forgiving.
“Maybe next life...” I whispered, “I can be less courageous and a little more selfish...”
Meng Po gestured to the soup before me. I looked at my reflection one last time—worn, sorrowful, but still resolute.
Then I lifted the bowl and swallowed the soup at once.