They say your life flashes before you die. I didn't just live it—I relived every moment, every choice, every regret… all before I even took my last breath.
The world was too loud, too bright, too heavy. Siya's breath came in sharp bursts, the cold air biting at his skin like shards of ice. The edge beneath his feet was both terrifying and strangely comforting—a final escape, or a cruel joke.
The city skyline behind him blurred in the fog, neon lights humming faintly through the mist. Somewhere below, distant sirens wailed, their cries mixing with the rush of traffic like a twisted symphony of chaos. He closed his eyes, letting the cold air fill his lungs as if it could cleanse the poison in his blood.
Memories slammed into him like a freight train.
The last time he saw Daelynn's smile—the warmth that had slowly turned into a chilling mask. The promises he broke, the lies he told himself to keep going. The cruel joke wasn't the edge; it was the weight of all those moments crushing him from inside.
His fingers trembled, clutching the cold metal railing behind him. The city's noise faded further, replaced by the roar in his ears—his own heartbeat, pounding like a war drum.
Was this really the end? The question echoed in the emptiness.
Then the ground shifted—not downward, but sideways, slipping away from under him like a dream unraveling. Darkness swallowed him whole, and the silence that followed screamed louder than any noise he'd ever known.
The darkness stretched endlessly—no shape, no sound, only the weightless void pressing gently against Siya's mind. Time lost meaning. Moments folded over themselves, slipping through his fingers like smoke. A soft hum thrummed just beyond perception, like the pulse of a distant heartbeat.
He reached out, but his hands dissolved into the black, vanishing before his eyes. There was no ground beneath him, no sky above—only an eerie stillness, a fragile balance between worlds.
Then, without warning, the silence shattered.
A sharp breath tore through him. His eyes snapped open.
The familiar ceiling of his bedroom hovered overhead, faint morning light spilling through the blinds.
His heart hammered—was it real? Or a dream?
Slowly, he sat up, feeling the strange weight of youth pressing on his bones. His room was exactly as he remembered, yet everything felt different. He was different.
Glancing down, his hands were smaller, smoother—no scars, no calluses. His reflection in the cracked mirror across the room showed a boy of fifteen, wide-eyed and disoriented.
What the hell?
Siya blinked rapidly, trying to shake the fog clouding his mind. Memories tumbled—fragments of a life he knew, a future he hadn't lived yet. He remembered the edge, the fall… but everything after that was a blank.
He reached out, pinched his arm hard. Pain flickered sharp and real. Not a dream.
He stumbled to the mirror, breath catching. He stared deep into his own eyes—reading the faintest freckles, the subtle shadow beneath his jawline. In dreams, they said, you couldn't see your reflection clearly, couldn't read or remember properly.
This was no dream.
Panic swelled, and a thousand questions flooded his mind. Why am I fifteen? Why am I here?
The world outside was waking too—the muffled sounds of birds, the distant rumble of traffic. His school day awaited, a first day he'd already lived once but now had the chance to rewrite.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to stand. The past had pulled him back—but to what end?
Today was Grade 10, Day 1. And Siya had a second chance—whether he wanted it or not.