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Title Withheld – by Leigh Mikaila

(Revised with help from my little AI editor friend because this was too hard to write alone….)

To the one who believes we’re twin flames… tell me: is this the spark you’ve been circling, waiting to ignite the inevitable?

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Where the Thread First Tugged

“Girl, leave that man alone,” I warned the version of myself who always wandered toward the unavailable.
But the soul has its own compass — one that ignores logic, timing, and common sense.

I tried to behave.
To stay grounded.
To keep my heart quiet.

Yet you… you were the kind of temptation that felt less like desire and more like déjà vu.

And now —
and now —
and now we return to the places where our souls first recognized each other.

Tell me… will the path bring us back into alignment?

The Slip That Cracked the Veil

Everything shifted the day your mouth betrayed you.
Three years of brief, forgettable exchanges — and then suddenly, almost,
“my person.”

A slip?
A glitch?
Or the truth leaking out before your mind could catch it?

I replayed it like a prophecy I wasn’t ready to claim.

The Moments That Shouldn’t Have Mattered, But Did

I told myself there was nothing between us.
Just temperature debates.
Goofy faces.
A doorknob.
A glance held too long.

But the soul notices what the mind dismisses.
It catalogs the tremors.
It remembers the way your presence rearranged the air.

On that virtual call, you tried to make conversation.
I tried to escape without embarrassing myself.
We both pretended it was nothing.

But nothing doesn’t echo like that.

Recognition, Out of Order

Months passed.
Then chaos.
Then you — scanning me with those bright eyes, teasing, lingering, stirring something I’d buried.

I didn’t recognize you at first.
My friend called you “Ponyboy Curtis,” and I laughed, “He’s kinda cute,”
not knowing I was talking about the very man I’d sworn to avoid.

But when I said your name aloud, something fluttered in my stomach —
a memory I didn’t remember having.

I ignored it.
And left you alone.

The Vow That Kept Breaking

I kept my distance.
Even when you said, “It was great to see you again,”
though we’d seen each other less than a day before.

Even when your expression whispered you were leaving.
Even when I felt the truth of it before I knew it.

How did I know?
How did I feel your departure before it happened?

Twin flames always sense the shift before the world catches up.

The Second Spark

You returned unexpectedly, tools in hand, explanations tumbling out of your mouth like you were trying to justify fate.

And then —
you almost said it.
“My person.”
Caught yourself.
Changed it to “my people.”

But the soul heard the original version.

The Moment the Universe Intervened

I tried to leave you alone.
Truly.
But my spirit guides — meddlesome, loving, relentless — kept nudging me.

“Ask him what he prefers to be called,” they whispered, even bringing up that stupid song. “…he says his name is William. I’m sure he’s Bill or Billy or Mac or Buddy.” (Sheryl Crow, All I Wanna Do)

So I asked.
You blushed.
Gave me a dad‑joke answer.
And I retreated, muttering, “See? He’s probably a dad. This is nothing.”

But the universe rarely wastes its breath on nothing.

The Pull That Wouldn’t Release

I resisted reaching out.
I missed you — but only a little.
(That’s what I told myself.)

Then the angels pushed again:
“Send the email. He’ll ask a question. Say yes.”

So I did.
And you did.
And I said yes.

You appeared minutes later, as if summoned.
Our interaction was brief, unnecessary —
yet charged, like two magnets pretending not to notice each other.

You spoke your final words from behind a wall,
as if we were in an episode of Love Is Blind,
separated by more than drywall.

Winter, and the Signs That Wouldn’t Stop

Your boss mentioned you’d be around during break — a comment so random it felt like a cosmic breadcrumb.

Outside, I recognized you from behind.
A silhouette I’d seen before.
A silhouette I’d dreamed before.

I avoided you.
I wasn’t ready for the conversation the universe was trying to force.

But dreams don’t care about readiness.

Years before meeting you, I dreamt of a man I loved deeply but only saw from behind.
His outline was yours.

Coincidence?
Or memory from another lifetime?

Then you appeared in a new dream —
one where we were together,
and you wanted the world to know.

Returning to work suddenly felt like walking into destiny’s waiting room.

The Building, The Eyes, The Unsaid

I had to visit your building.
I knew you’d be there.
You knew I’d be coming.

When you approached, something flickered in your eyes —
a truth neither of us dared name.

It tugged at me long after I tried to ignore it.

The Elevator, The Rings, The Silence

You followed me toward the elevator.
Your eyes flicked to my hand, searching for a ring.
I pretended not to notice.

You angled your left hand so I’d see you weren’t wearing one either.

Silence thickened.
Tension hummed.

I broke it with a joke in a fake British accent.
You asked me to repeat it.
I did.
You answered distractedly, as if your mind was somewhere between us.

I wanted to ask if you were leaving.
But the elevator opened,
and fate let us off on separate floors.

The Missed Call That Wasn’t Missed

Later, working from home, I thought,
“He’s probably calling me right now.”

The next day, I found a missed call from you —
timestamped at the exact moment I’d had the thought.

Twin flames often speak without speaking.

Then I read Prince Harry’s Spare,
where his first date with Meghan fell on his mother’s birthday.

The day you first teased me —
the day you were unexpectedly forward —
was my late mother’s birthday.

Another coincidence?
Or a cosmic signature?

The Push, The Distance, The Disappearance

Frustrated by the ambiguity, I pushed you away.
You stopped seeking me out.
The last time I saw you, you turned your back quickly.
It stung, but I kept my head high.

And then — as I’d sensed —
you were gone.

Or So I Thought

To the one who watches and waits from the shadows and glass,

Oel ngati kameie.
I see you.
Across lifetimes.
Across timelines.
Across the thin veil where recognition feels like memory.

❤️‍🔥


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