We were in Sofia for the first time, just passing through on our way to the coast. No plans, just wandering until we found a cute café with red chairs and a dessert menu with way too many exclamation marks. My little brother, Niko, saw the lava cake and ordered it like it was destiny. Didn’t even look at the other options.

The second he took a bite, he stopped chewing.

Not because it was too hot. Not because he didn’t like it.

He just froze—spoon in his mouth, eyes glazed like he was trying to remember something too big to fit.

Then he looked at me and said, “It’s the same one.”

I asked, “Same what?”

He pulled the spoon out of his mouth slowly and whispered, “The cake that made me sick. Last time.”

Now, here’s the thing—there was no last time. Not here in Sofia. Not even close. We’d never been to Bulgaria. And Niko had never gotten sick from lava cake, or any cake, or any dessert ever. He’s got the stomach of a raccoon and a sweet tooth to match. I should know—I’m his older sister. I’ve watched him eat chocolate chip pancakes with barbecue chips on top.

But something about the way he said it chilled me. I stared at him, half-laughing. “You sure? You probably just had one that tasted like this in Bucharest or something.”

He shook his head, eyes wide, spoon shaking a little. “No. I remember the walls were blue. There was a woman with a green scarf. And a man yelling in the kitchen. The cake was hot, but there was something bitter inside. Like… like it wasn’t just chocolate.”

I laughed again, nervously this time. “Okay, Sherlock.”

But he wasn’t joking.

He pushed the plate away like it had turned into a spider. “I got really sick. I was with you.”

I blinked. “What are you talking about? That never happened.”

He didn’t answer. Just looked out the café window like he was trying to line up the street outside with something in his head.

The server came by and asked if everything was okay. Niko nodded quickly and tried to smile, but I could tell he just wanted to leave. So we paid and stepped back into the warm evening air, the scent of roasted peppers and bus fumes hanging together in that weird but not unpleasant city smell.

We walked in silence for a bit. Then he said, “What if it wasn’t this life?”

I stopped walking.

“What?”

“What if it was, like, another life? Another version of this one?”

I wanted to tell him he was being silly. That he probably saw something online or maybe dreamed it. But the way he described it… it was too detailed. Too specific. And honestly, I didn’t know what to believe.

We ended up at a park bench near some graffiti-covered swings, just sitting there while cicadas buzzed like a low orchestra.

Niko was quiet for a while before saying, “I felt like I was dying.”

I looked over. He wasn’t being dramatic. He wasn’t trying to get out of anything. He looked… haunted.

“Do you remember anything else?” I asked.

He nodded. “You weren’t you.”

“Okay… that’s not creepy at all.”

“You looked like you, but older. Like… a lot older. And your voice was different. Calmer.”

I leaned back against the bench, trying to laugh it off again but failing. “Well, I’ve always been an old soul.”

He smiled weakly but didn’t say anything.

That night, in our hostel, he had a nightmare. He woke up sweating, clutching his stomach, crying out in pain. Said it was the cake again. Said he remembered falling to the floor, people yelling, someone calling an ambulance. He kept repeating the name “Mina.”

I didn’t know a Mina. We don’t have an aunt named Mina. No friend, no neighbor. But that name came out of him like it had weight.

The next morning, I asked him again. “You sure you’re not just making this up? Maybe from a movie?”

He gave me a look. “Why would I lie about this?”

Fair point.

We decided to skip the coast and stay in Sofia one more day. I was curious now. Too curious. And maybe a little scared.

We went back to the café.

Different server this time. I asked if they had been there long. The man behind the counter shrugged. “Six years, maybe more.”

“Do you remember a woman with a green scarf?” I asked.

He tilted his head. “Mina?”

My blood went cold.

He nodded. “She used to work here. She passed away. Two years ago.”

Niko stepped back like he’d just been punched.

“How did she die?” I asked, heart racing.

The man paused. “Food poisoning. A bad shipment of cream. It wasn’t her fault, but she tasted everything before it went out. Always said if anyone gets sick here, it’ll be her first.”

Niko looked like he was about to throw up.

I thanked the man and pulled Niko outside.

“Okay,” I said, trying to steady my breath. “This is getting way too weird.”

“I think I died here,” he whispered.

I grabbed his shoulders. “Stop it. Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious. I think in another version of life, I ate that cake and I died, and Mina was there.”

I didn’t know what to do with that. It sounded insane. But at the same time… things were lining up.

Over the next few days, Niko started remembering more. Not just the café, but the apartment they stayed in. A dog that used to bark every morning from the balcony across the street. A girl named Katya who he said was his best friend. He even described a mural on the side of a building—one we later found while walking through a back alley.

It was like watching someone remember a dream with perfect clarity.

Then came the twist.

We were back at the park, the same bench. An old woman with a bag of plums sat next to us. She smiled at Niko.

“You have kind eyes,” she said in English with a thick accent. “Like someone I used to know.”

Niko smiled politely. “Thanks.”

She stared at him, then at me.

“Are you his sister?”

“Yes.”

She nodded slowly. “You used to come here often. You lived just down that street. But that was… some time ago.”

I blinked. “No, ma’am. We’re just visiting.”

She looked confused. Then sad. “Strange. I could have sworn. Your brother looks just like the boy who—”

She stopped herself.

I leaned in. “The boy who what?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Her eyes told a story she didn’t want to say.

We never saw her again.

Later that night, Niko asked, “If I did die… why am I here now?”

I didn’t have an answer. But I said the only thing I could think of. “Maybe you were meant to finish something.”

He nodded slowly. “Maybe I’m supposed to say goodbye.”

We went back to the café one last time.

This time, Niko brought flowers. He left them at the counter and asked the man if he could leave them for Mina.

The man looked surprised, then quietly emotional.

“She’d have liked you,” he said.

Before we left, Niko ordered the lava cake again.

I stared at him. “You serious?”

He smiled. “This time, I think I’ll be okay.”

He took a bite.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Then smiled.

“No bitterness.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

We left Sofia the next day. Headed to the coast after all.

But something in Niko changed. He got quieter, but not in a bad way. Like a weight had been lifted. Like he finally had room in his chest for air he didn’t know he’d been missing.

Weeks later, back home, he told me he stopped dreaming about the café.

Stopped hearing the name Mina in his sleep.

He just… felt at peace.

So here’s what I think.

Sometimes, we carry pieces of other lives with us. Maybe not literally. Maybe it’s just echoes or unfinished emotions or lessons that never got to land.

But I think if we listen carefully, the world gives us a chance to finish what we couldn’t before. To forgive, to let go, or to simply say goodbye.

Maybe that’s all it takes.

Just one more bite. One more walk down a familiar street. One more stranger who remembers you when you don’t remember yourself.

And maybe, just maybe, life gives you a second try—not to relive the same moment, but to make peace with it.

So if something feels familiar in a place you’ve never been, maybe don’t brush it off. Maybe there’s more to remember than you realize.

And maybe, like Niko, you’re not crazy.

Maybe you’re just coming home.

If this story made you pause, feel something, or reminded you of something you can’t quite explain—share it. Maybe someone else needs to remember too.

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