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The Light That Lived
Chapter 3 A Soul's Last Gift

Chapter 3 A Soul's Last Gift

WARNING- context contains murder and violence

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Chi Chi floated in a vast expanse of light, her soul adrift among the shifting warmth of an ethereal glow. She watched from above, unseen, as her funeral unfolded below her. The world she had known was gone, but it felt... peaceful. Calming, even. A strange sense of healing filled her heart as she looked at the sea of faces, the sorrow, the love, the people whose lives she had touched. For the first time in so long, there was no pain. She had given so much, and in the end, she had saved them all. Her heart, though empty of breath, felt full.

Chi Chi saw Mrs. Johnson, standing in front of the crowd, her teacher's face streaked with tears, hands trembling as she spoke of Chi Chi's bravery. Then, a classmate spoke, his voice full of grief, sharing how Chi Chi had always been there, always made sure they were okay. One by one, they spoke, each word a testament to Chi Chi's kindness, her strength, the mark she had left on the world, even though her time had been so brief.

She had been saved—by love, by the very people she had helped, by the legacy of her kindness.

Her gaze drifted upward, and she saw the sky brightening, a swirling vortex of light descending toward her. It was beautiful—an embrace that felt like home, warm and tender, almost as if she were being pulled toward a second chance. A flash of light engulfed her, and Chi Chi felt herself being drawn through the darkness, through time and space, until the world around her shifted.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in the soft embrace of a crib, surrounded by the scent of lavender and the gentle hum of a lullaby. She blinked in confusion. Her tiny hands curled into fists as the world came into focus.

She was... a baby. Again.

Her gaze shifted upward to the face of a woman—her mother. Her face was soft, filled with love and care, eyes warm with a tenderness Chi Chi had never known in her previous life. Her father sat beside her, beaming with joy, his hand resting gently on her mother's.

Chi Chi could feel the warmth of the love in this family. The world outside the crib was quiet, peaceful, and safe. The pain, the suffering, the darkness—it had all melted away. For ten days, Chi Chi lived in a world that was kind to her, where every day was filled with love and laughter. She was fed, bathed, kissed, and adored. Her parents doted on her every need, their smiles never fading. The touch of their hands on her skin was soft and kind, as though they knew exactly what she needed.

In those ten days, Chi Chi learned what it felt like to be wanted. To be loved.

But even in this perfect life, Chi Chi couldn't shake the feeling that it was too fragile, too fleeting. Something deep inside her felt that the shadows of her past weren't fully gone yet

It just couldn't last.

One day, the door to the house burst open with a force that made the windows rattle. A man stormed in—his face twisted in rage, his eyes burning with madness. The air felt thick with tension, and Chi Chi's mother gasped, pulling her close to her chest.

"I'm taking her," the man spat, his voice venomous. "She's mine now."

Chi Chi's father stepped in front of them, his stance protective. "What do you think you're doing? Stay away from my family!"

The man was shaking, his fury barely contained. "You ruined me!" he bellowed. "You took everything from me! Fired me like I was nothing! And now you think you can just live your perfect life while I suffer? No! You will know what it's like to lose everything, just like me!"

"It wasn't our fault," Chi Chi's father shot back. "You lost your job because of your own actions! You put the company at risk—you gave us no choice!"

The man's face twisted with hatred, but before he could make a move, Chi Chi's mother sprang into action. She wasn't helpless—she wasn't going to let anyone take her child. She clutched Chi Chi tightly in one arm and reached for the nearest object—a glass vase—hurling it at the man. It shattered against his shoulder, making him stumble back with a grunt of pain.

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Chi Chi's father charged at him, fists clenched, ready to fight for his family. But before he could land a blow, another man stepped into the room—a friend of the intruder, just as desperate, just as lost. He grabbed Chi Chi's father from behind, yanking him back and pinning his arms.

Chi Chi's mother tried to run, but the first man recovered quickly. He lunged forward, wrestling Chi Chi from her arms. She screamed, fought, clawed at him—but he was stronger. He shoved her back with brutal force, making her crash against the table, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs.

Chi Chi wailed as she was ripped from the warmth of her mother's arms. She reached out, tiny fingers grasping for her, but it was no use. The man held her tight, his grip unrelenting.

Her parents fought, struggled, did everything they could to break free—but the friend held them off just long enough.

And then, before they could stop him, the man was gone.

Chi Chi barely had time to process the movement before she felt cold air biting at her skin. They were outside. The city lights stretched below them. The rooftop was high—too high.

The man held her over the edge, his breath ragged, his mind lost in his own misery. "Now you'll understand," he whispered, his voice hollow. "Now you'll know what it's like."

Chi Chi's father burst onto the rooftop, his face stricken with terror. "Stop! You don't have to do this!"

Chi Chi's mother ran toward them, her eyes wild with desperation. "Please, she's just a baby!"

The man's fingers tightened around Chi Chi. "And yet, she gets to have everything I lost."

And then—he let go.

The world spun. Wind roared past her ears. The city blurred into a smear of color and light.

She was falling.

Her tiny heart pounded, her cries lost in the empty sky. She reached for something—anything—but there was nothing to hold onto. Nothing to save her.

Then, impact.

Everything went silent.

Her soul lifted, drifting once more into the unseen world, leaving her broken body behind.

And then—she heard a voice.

"That was a bit of a dramatic scene, don't you think?"

A soft, playful voice—almost like a whisper in the wind.

It was a bunny.

A small, soft bunny who appeared from the shadows, its eyes wide with a knowing gaze. Its fur was white,

"Ah, yes! You must be Chi Chi! I'm your system. Call me BunBun!" the bunny chirped cheerfully, hopping around her. "Now, no need to worry, I'm here to help!"

BunBun, his little paws hopped over to Chi Chi's parents, who stood frozen in shock, their faces pale with grief.

The bunny's voice was surprisingly lively, filled with compassion yet tinged with gentle humor. "The sadness you've carried for so long doesn't go unnoticed," it said, its ears twitching. "Your child was a blessing in more ways than you ever knew."

Chi Chi's parents stared, their hearts heavy with the weight of the words. They were broken—torn between guilt and despair—but as they looked at the bunny, something in them shifted. The realization that they had failed their daughter consumed them, but they also saw that their child had loved them beyond anything they had deserved.

"She didn't deserve this," her mother whispered, tears streaming down her face.

The BunBun turned to Chi Chi's mother, its gaze kind but firm. "Your child only wanted happiness for you. She wanted to see you smile, to know that love could heal even the darkest wounds."

Chi Chi's father stepped forward, his face filled with regret. "How can we ever make up for this? How can we live with ourselves?"

The BunBun's eyes softened. "You must carry the burden of grief, but remember that in the midst of it, she left you with a gift. She was your light, and she still is."

The bunny turned its gaze back to Chi Chi's lifeless body. "I will grant your wish," it whispered softly.

And in the softest of whispers, Chi Chi spoke, her spirit trembling with the last of her will.

"Your daughter has a wish," BunBun said softly, "and she wants to leave you with a gift, one last blessing. She has asked that you be given another chance—another child, one that will bring joy into your hearts, just as she did."

Chi Chi's parents stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief and pain. Her mother's shoulders shook with sobs, and her father looked as though he had lost all the strength in his body. But when they heard BunBun's words, something shifted in their grief-stricken expressions. Their faces softened as the weight of the bunny's message sank in. It wasn't just sorrow—they felt a kind of tentative hope.

The bunny continued, its voice warm, "She hopes, with all her heart, that you will find happiness again, even without her. This is the last thing she can do for you. A blessing, from her heart."

Her father's lip trembled, and his voice broke as he whispered, "We... we will never forget her."

Her mother, still sobbing, reached out toward the bunny. "Please... please, give us that chance," she pleaded.

The bunny's ears twitched, and with a small, gentle wave of its paw, a soft light glowed around Chi Chi's parents, surrounding them in warmth.

The bunny's words brought a sense of peace. They would never fully understand what had happened, but they would live on. They would heal.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the light began to fade.

Her parents would be alright.

And as the world around her fell silent, Chi Chi smiled one last time, knowing that her light would live on in ways that no one could ever take away.

As the police sirens grew louder in the distance, the man who had caused all this chaos was caught. His life, too, would be extinguished. He was sentenced to death for the horrors he had inflicted upon a family.

But none of this mattered to Chi Chi anymore. Her story was no longer about pain and suffering. Her light, her love, would live on in ways that no one could ever take away. And as everything went dark, she smiled, knowing that even in death, she had made things right once again.

She felt at peace.

Because even though she was gone from their lives,

She had done what she needed to do.

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