Why… can't I see anything?
Just moments ago, I was walking past the park, phone in hand, mind blank. It had been a lonely night—just like most nights in my last life. But then something… changed. A moment of stillness. A strange pressure in my chest. And now?
This void.
Not dark. Devoid.
My heart pounds—or at least, I think it does. The rhythm of fear is there, but my body... it feels distant, unreal. I look down. There's no ground beneath me. Just the void. Endless, consuming, silent.
Am I floating?
I twist—or try to—and finally catch a glimpse of my surroundings. The darkness isn't just black. It shimmers, shifting with subtle pulses like ink in water. It swallows everything. There is no sky. No horizon. Just this ethereal nothingness.
Then—sound.
A voice. Gentle. Feminine. Not like a human voice—more like… emotion made audible.
I can't understand the words. But I feel them.
Warmth. Comfort. Sadness. Hope.
Light begins to flicker.
And then—
My vision clears into blinding white.
My lungs burn, my chest tightens—and I scream. A high-pitched, desperate cry bursts from my throat. Wait… was that me?
I'm cold. I'm crying. And someone wraps me in soft cloth. I'm… being held?
My mind struggles to comprehend it, but the truth becomes clear.
I was born.
Again.
"Rowan," a woman's voice whispers with tears of joy. Her face is radiant, flushed with exertion but glowing with love. I don't know her, but her gaze fills my chest with unfamiliar warmth.
Then a man steps closer, lifting me gently into his arms. He laughs—deep, genuine—and places a kiss on her forehead. He says something to her. His voice is shaking with joy.
A rush of emotions floods me. I don't know these people. But somehow, I want to. Maybe this is what family was supposed to feel like.
I want to speak. To ask questions. But I can't. I'm trapped in this tiny, weak body. A soul out of place.
And then, it sinks in.
Reincarnation. I really died. And now I'm here. In a new world. A new life.
Honestly… it's a lot to process.
My past life wasn't anything special. I lived in shadows—quiet, unnoticed, and aching for meaning. No tragic backstory, no grand regrets. Just… emptiness. Maybe that's why I was given another shot.
Whatever this world is… it's already brighter than the last.
Time passes—though tracking it is a nightmare. Maybe weeks?
I quickly learn that being a baby is hell. Can't sit up. Can't talk. Can't even hold my own head up without it wobbling like jelly. My biggest achievement this week? Farting silently. A real milestone.
But if there's one saving grace—it's her.
My mother.
She knows what I need before I do. Her hands are always warm. Her lullabies soothe even the weirdest reincarnation panic attacks. And when she smiles? It's like a shield against the fear gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
My father's different. Stern but kind. His hands are rough—warrior's hands. He doesn't talk much, but he lifts me with ease, trains outside every morning, and never misses a chance to kiss my mother on the cheek.
Sometimes, when he trains, I hear strange sounds—like metal slicing the air, or a low hum that vibrates through the walls. Once, I spotted a glowing blue gem embedded in the hilt of his blade. Magic? Or something else entirely?
This world is peaceful… for now.
At around four months, things shift. My mind's developing fast. I start picking up words. Phrases. Patterns in their speech. It's strange—my brain, once dulled by adult cynicism, feels sharper now. Faster.
And then—I crawl.
The look on my mother's face when I took that first shaky scoot across the wooden floor? Like I'd just cast magic. "Honey! Rowan's crawling!" she cried, nearly dropping a pot in the kitchen.
My father picked me up with a grin. "He's strong. Takes after me."
Yeah, yeah, flex on me later, old man.
They make food to commemorate the moment. The scent is divine. Roasted herbs, tender meat, something sweet bubbling on the stove. But I can't eat any of it. No teeth.
Soup. That's all I get. Mushy, bland soup.
What's the point of celebrating if the guest of honor can't even enjoy the meal?
I let out a tiny, frustrated huff.
They laugh again.
Life… is weird now.
I thought being reborn would be thrilling. Magical. A fantasy come true.
But reality?
It's slow. It's raw. It's warm.
And for the first time… it feels like I matter.