(probably deleting this anyways, but here we go🤦‍♂️)

Near a small, quiet town, a special someone’s life was about to meet its end. Simple and sudden. He had been on the road for hours, the hum of the tires against the asphalt lulling his mind into a daze. His back seat was loaded with grocery bags, a mixture of essentials and indulgences for his modest, lonely life. Living alone hadn’t been his choice—it was all he’d known since his parents passed away when he was just a boy. As an orphan, he'd grown up in foster homes, one after the other, never quite feeling like he belonged to anyone or anywhere. By now, he’d become accustomed to his quiet independence, even if it often felt like an empty echo of a life.

He'd spent the last hour sifting through the supermarket aisles, after his job in the town over. 

His cart filled with cat food, some fresh produce, a new set of tools he’d convinced himself he might need someday, and enough snacks to last a week. He’d been looking forward to getting home, to seeing his cat, the only true companion he'd ever had, curled up on the couch waiting for him. It was a senior cat that he had taken from the shelter. Just like him, the cat had no one else. A quiet life, yes, but he liked it that way. At least, he thought he did.

The storm ahead loomed on the horizon, thunder rumbling distantly, while sheets of rain began to fall. across the windshield. The road stretched long and empty before him, wet and slick. 

He was exhausted but determined to make it home before sunrise. No one wanted to waste time on a stupid road, when the weekend had arrived. 

A split-second decision—a glance at his phone, the buzz of a message from a coworker about an upcoming project—was all it took for fate to intervene.

The headlights of the oncoming truck appeared suddenly, blinding in their intensity. His hands jerked the wheel, but there was no time, no space, no escape. Metal met metal in a symphony of shattering glass and twisted steel, the world flipping and spinning into a disorienting blur of noise and silence. And then, nothing. In his last moments, as the world faded to dark, his mind drifted to the small, soft creature waiting at home—his cat, warm and curled in its usual corner. And then his life came to an end.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt weightless, adrift in a sea of warmth and muffled sound. His body was foreign, small and fragile, an odd feeling of helplessness encasing him. His eyes adjusted to dim light, and as shapes came into focus, he could see a face hovering above him, eyes shining with love and relief—a woman, her hair damp from the sweat of labor, cradling him gently in her arms.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

In that moment, as the man, now boy, attempted to scream, to speak, to understand, he realized that something impossible had occurred. He wasn’t in his car, heading back to his house, his own body, or even his own life anymore.

The world around him came into sharper focus, even if his new senses struggled to process it all. He felt himself cradled in warmth, nestled in the crook of an unfamiliar arm. He attempted to blink, his new eyes heavy and unused to the brightness, struggling against the light and sound flooding his tiny body.

“Oh, just look at him.” a soft voice whispered, filled with wonder and joy. It was the woman who held him, her voice gentle and trembling with emotion. She brushed a hand softly over his head, her eyes wet, as she took in every detail of his small face.

“He’s perfect, Claire.” came a man’s voice, rough and laced with emotions of his own. “Absolutely perfect.” The man leaned closer, his large hand coming to rest carefully on the baby’s chest, almost as if he feared that even a single touch would break this fragile, precious life.

The man—or whoever he was now—struggled, confused, a faint cry escaping his lips. The sound surprised him, high and shrill, nothing like the voice he’d known as his own. Everything felt wrong, as if he were trapped in a body that didn’t belong to him. It was, a horrifying experience. To wake up in a body, not your own, the people, like giants around you, speaking in a foreign tongue.

“What should we name him?” the woman, Claire, asked, brushing a tear from her cheek as she beamed down at him. Her warmth and love radiated around him, enveloping him in a strange comfort. Despite his bewilderment, he felt an odd sense of peace he hadn’t known before, like a safety he’d lost long, long ago.

“I was thinking…Shin.” the man replied, his face split into a wide grin. “He looks like a Shin, don’t you think?”

the man spoke, and chuckled, his voice sounding out.

“Shin.” Claire repeated, her smile widening as she looked down at him with eyes full of love. “Yes. Shin, our beautiful boy.”

She spoke, and let out a tired giggle of her own.

He wanted to protest, to tell them that his name was...What was his name.

WHAT WAS HIS NAME.

He know he wasn't supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be… a baby. But his small, helpless body refused to obey, leaving him with only the instinctual whimpers and cries of an infant.

As Claire held him close, singing a gentle lullaby, he felt himself slowly start to calm. In some strange, inexplicable way, he felt that he was… safe. Safe in a way he hadn’t felt in his former life, and with that realization, a new thought began to form, soft as a whisper in his mind.

*Perhaps… this isn’t so bad. Perhaps… I can try again.* 

He thought, his little hand wrapping, Clare's finger.

The room buzzed with warmth and the quiet murmurs of love and content. 

And as the new parents took in every detail of their son, Shin, drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.