Chapter 1: Introduction
The first thing Finn noticed when he stepped into Leo’s house was the smell—warm, buttery, like freshly baked cookies and something else, something faintly floral, like the perfume his mom used to wear before she stopped caring about things like that. The house itself was cozy, the kind of place that felt like it had been lived in for decades, with mismatched furniture, family photos on the walls, and the faint hum of an old refrigerator in the kitchen.
Leo clapped him on the back, grinning. "Welcome to the madness," he said, kicking off his shoes by the door. "Grandma’s probably in the kitchen.
She loves having someone new to feed," Leo added, leading Finn through the living room cluttered with old magazines and well-worn board games.
As they entered the kitchen, Finn's eyes were drawn to a woman at the counter, her back to them. She was humming softly, her white hair rolled into a neat bun, wearing an apron covered in flowers that Finn was sure he’d seen somewhere before. There was something familiar about her, a curve of the shoulder, a certain grace in the way she moved.
"Grandma, Finn’s here!" Leo announced, his voice booming in the small kitchen.
The woman turned, and Finn's heart skipped a beat. She smiled, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Finn," she said, her voice warm and inviting, "welcome. I'm Ellie."
She extended a hand, and Finn took it, feeling a strange jolt at her touch. Her grip was firm, her skin smooth, and her eyes—they were the same color as the wildflowers in her apron, a bright, vivid blue that seemed to dance in the afternoon light streaming through the window.
"Nice to meet you," Finn managed, his thumb rubbing absent-mindedly against the back of her hand.
"You have a beautiful home."
Ellie smiled wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Why, thank you, dear. It's not much, but it's mine." She released his hand and turned back to the counter, where a massive batch of cookie dough sat waiting. "I'm just about to put these in the oven. Would you boys like some milk with them later?"
Leo nodded, already pulling a chair up to the table. "Always, Grandma. Finn here loves sweets, don't you, Finn?"
Finn nodded, scooting a chair over next to Leo. "Yeah, I do.
My mom used to bake, but she doesn’t really anymore," Finn said, watching Ellie’s hands as she rolled the dough with practiced ease. There was something hypnotic about the way her fingers moved, confident and precise. He shook the thought away, feeling his cheeks warm.
Ellie glanced at him, her smile knowing, as if she could read the thoughts he was trying so hard to hide. "Well, you’re in for a treat. These are my famous oatmeal raisin cookies—though I might’ve snuck in a few chocolate chips for Leo’s sake." She winked at her grandson, who grinned back like a kid who’d just been told Santa was real.
Finn watched the exchange, something tugging at the edges of his memory—Ellie’s laugh, the way her hands moved, the way she carried herself with an effortless confidence that didn’t quite match the image of a grandmother. He’d seen her before, somewhere. Not in person, but…"
His fingers tapped restlessly against the table as he tried to place it. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, the kind of warmth that should have made him feel at home, but instead, it made his skin prickle with something like recognition. Leo was already shoveling a cookie into his mouth, oblivious, but Finn couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something important.
Ellie turned back to the oven, her apron swaying slightly with the motion. "You’re quiet, Finn," she said over her shoulder, her voice light but with an undercurrent that made his pulse jump. "Leo says you’re a thinker."
Finn swallowed.
"Yeah, I guess I am." He looked at Leo, who was now elbow-deep in the cookie jar. "It's just... I feel like I've seen you before. Not here, but somewhere else."
Ellie turned back to face him, her eyes soft. "Is that so?" she asked, her tone casual, yet with a hint of amusement. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, her elbows resting on the worn wooden surface. "Well, I've lived a lot of lives, Finn. Maybe we met in one of my past lives."
Leo scoffed, speaking through a mouthful of cookies.