Chapter 1

"Hey, wake up now. Breakfast is ready," a faint voice of a woman stirred him from his reverie.

"If you don’t wake up, breakfast will get cold," the bright crimson light flooding his vision revealed the figure of his late mother.

As I blinked my eyes open, she disappeared, leaving behind a simple instruction.

"I'm heading to work. And don’t forget to reheat the breakfast before eating, okay. Bye take care?"

Could it be a dream? If so, I wouldn't mind indulging in the comfort of this reverie, lying here while gazing at the ceiling, reminiscing about the past, and embracing the tranquility of doing nothing at all.

====================

Wasn't I struck by a truck? What is this?

Is my life flashing before my eyes as I face death, or have I survived and am now dreaming? "Everything looks so vivid," Ray remarks, surveying his surroundings. He ponders the possibility of reality, contemplating if he's a protagonist in a novel, capable of rewriting his own life. Ray chuckles at the thought.

Stepping out of bed, I contemplate my next move, jarred by the sensation of pinching my cheek. "Ouch! That stings," I mutter, the experience feeling unnervingly lifelike.

As I move, I sense a dissonance between my mind and body. I struggle to comprehend the situation but push the thought aside as hunger grips me.

"Ahh, foo__od on theee___ table," I notice, my voice sounded strange.

After seeing my hand and body. Noticing my much smaller figure,

I rush to the mirror, where my reflection reveals a younger version of myself. "What on earth is happening?" I exclaim.

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A month passes.

It appears I've return back 15 years to my 13 years old self into the past. I'm utterly bewildered, unsure of what caused this phenomenon.

I am now delivering newspapers on a cold, foggy morning, my breath visible in the chill air.

It is the part time job that my father work every morning in my past life,

It was harder for me to first convince him to let me work, but I work it out somehow.

"Hey, old man! Why are you running on such a cold morning?" I call out to a passerby.

The old man chuckles,

replying, "Hush, you young brat. I'm as spry as ever."

With a wave, I bid him farewell, continuing my newspaper delivery.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

It may seem like I've adapted quickly to this new reality, but the truth is,

chaos reigned until recently.

The first couple of days passed in a whirlwind of disbelief and denial, as I struggled to come to terms with the inexplicable twist of fate that had befallen me.

At first, I clung to the fact it was all some elaborate prank of my mind or hallucination, unwilling to accept the reality of my situation.

Even as I drifted off to sleep, a nagging doubt lingered within my mind. Would I wake up to find that this surreal journey through time had all been a fleeting illusion?

Would I open my eyes to discover that I had returned to the same old reality, like pieces of broken glass scattered on the floor?

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As I checked the date on the calendar and saw it read 20XX, the realization struck me like a bolt of lightning—I had been transported back 15 years into the past.

The familiarity of my childhood home brought a mixture of comfort and surrealism, as if I were trapped in a dream from which I couldn't awaken.

Grrroowwww………………..

the sound of my stomach growling broke through the haze of my thoughts, a reminder of the present moment.

Taking a seat at the worn, creaky chair I devour each grain of rice carrying with it a flood of nostalgia.

Memories of the hands that had prepared the meal washed over me, stirring emotions that I struggled to contain.

Tears blur my vision, tracing gentle patterns on my cheeks, unnoticed the tumult of emotions that churned within me.

In that moment, I found myself grappling with the complexity of my situation.

After some time, my father returned home, his burdened shoulders stooped under the weight of dirt and dust from a hard day's work. Seeing him alive again provoked many emotions within me, and I couldn't resist the urge to rush forward and cling to him.

"Dad—Dad... I'm sorry, sorry," I blurted out, my words tumbling over each other in a frantic stream.

He looked at me with concern, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Hey, Ray, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

"I'm sorry—Dad, please forgive me," I pleaded, unable to contain my guilt any longer.

"Did something happen at school?" he inquired gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay, hey, don’t worry, son. Everything will be alright. I'm here to listen to whatever you have to say, so just calm down," he reassured me, his concern for his son evident in his every word and gesture.

After pouring out my emotions, I gradually came back to my senses, realizing the impossibility of explaining to my father that I had somehow traveled back 15 years in time and was now inhabiting the mind of my 28-year-old self.

The thought of his reaction, of the possibility that he might deem me mentally unstable and take me to a mental asylum, filled me with dread.

"Hehehe, sorry, Dad. I didn't go to school today," I confessed, attempting to brush off the intensity of my earlier outburst.

"Huh! You brat, you caused all this drama over that?" he exclaimed, his tone laced with a mixture of annoyance and relief.

"Don't scare your old father like that again," his voice softening with a sense of relief that I had not been in any serious trouble.

I avoided my parents, unable to face the truth of my return to a past that I had long since left behind.

And the weight of my past mistake made it difficult to even meet their gaze, I don’t even deserve to enjoy this and be happy after all I have done.

Instead, I retreated into the safety of solitude, seeking refuge in the quiet corners of my childhood home where I could grapple with my turmoil in private.

Couple of days after return

As we gathered around the dinner table, the air seemed heavy with unspoken tension, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

I pushed the food around my plate, my appetite non-existent in the wake of the chaos swirling within me.

My father cleared his throat, his voice breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

"Ray," he began, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Is everything alright? You seem...distant lately."

I glanced up, meeting his gaze with a forced smile.

"Yeah, Dad," I replied, my voice betraying the strain of my facade.

"Just...a lot on my mind, you know?"

My mother reached across the table, her hand coming to rest gently on mine.

"We're here for you, sweetheart," she said softly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Whatever it is that's troubling you, we'll get through it together."

I felt a lump form in my throat, the weight of their concern pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. "It's nothing, really," I insisted, my words hollow even to my own ears.

"Just...figuring some things out."

But even as I spoke, I knew that I couldn't burden them with the truth of my return to the past.

The thought of seeing the worry etched upon their faces, of watching as their world crumbled around them, was more than I could bear.

At that moment, I made a solemn vow to myself—I would not tread the same path of brushes and palette and neglect my parents as I had done in the past,

With that I am going to change the future that I created with my own two hands.

---I am determined to live this new life with unwavering devotion to my parents.