Ankit walked home from college, lost in thought. At 21, he was a friendly guy but mostly kept to himself. In his middle-class Indian family, Free Fire was his big passion, though he didn't chat much with random players.
He muttered to himself, "Should I stop playing FF? It's not fun anymore." Old rare bundles like Golden Sakura and Golden Hip Hop were now free in the Gold Shop. New ones felt boring, and his friends had quit long ago.
His gameplay was average on a laggy Android phone. It froze during key moments, making him tired of what once felt like life. Now, in 2027, FF seemed like just a money-grabbing app.
At home, he lived with his mother and sister. His father had died from COVID in 2021. Ankit helped out quietly, like fixing dinner sometimes or listening to his sister's school stories with a small smile.
To pass time, he played a quick match. He got killed by a new player using a web-spewing character. Annoyed but stubborn, he tried one more BR ranked game, but it was full of bots—he quit midway.
He got ready for his part-time job, handling it without fuss. Finishing work, he headed straight home. In his room, he ate dinner alone, watched YouTube shorts for laughs, and fell asleep.
Strange noises woke him. He opened his eyes to his old bedroom, with his little sister sleeping next to him—much younger than he remembered. He felt lighter, full of energy, like a kid again.
He sat up, looking around the room. It matched his childhood setup perfectly. "Ankit and Sanya, get up," a voice called—the voice of his father's, who died six years ago.
Ankit thought it was a dream. He pinched himself hard, but the pain was real, and nothing changed. He hurt his arm but stayed in place, heart pounding with confusion.
Again, his father's voice echoed, closer now. Ankit pretended not to hear, curling up like it would end the dream. But his father, Kamal, was coming to the room.
The door opened. "If you're awake, why don't you answer?" his father shouted, then saw Sanya sleeping soundly like a little pig. In a low voice, he added, "If you're up, clean yourself and come for breakfast."
After his father left, Ankit whispered to himself, "What the hell is going on?" He checked the wall calendar—October 8, 2017. His mind raced: Why did I return? It started with Dad's voice... and that inner whisper during sleep, something beyond imagination.
The inner voice had said softly in his dream, "This is your chance to pioneer. All things are possible." Ankit realized—this was time travel, a real second chance. Stubborn as always, he decided to grab it.
From the window, the neighborhood looked exactly like 2017. He looked at his small hands and spoke—his voice sounded young and cute. He headed to the bathroom mirror.
In the mirror, a 12-year-old boy stared back. Ankit remembered going to bed in 2027, exhausted. Now, back in 2017 with his family, he felt a quiet joy—he'd protect them, maybe share a funny joke with Sanya later to see her smile.
The inner voice echoed faintly: "Grow strong, shape the path ahead."
But he didn't hear it.