In the quiet of the room, as the sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, Rashely sat still, her breathing calm, her expression unreadable. But behind her serene face churned a storm of memory—memories that did not belong to her, yet lived within her like echoes through an empty house.
Anurak had once been an old man. Born and raised in Thailand, he had lived a long, steady life—a teacher, a thinker, a writer. In his final years, with failing health and trembling fingers, he had poured all his thoughts into a single novel. One that was never finished. One that was never meant to become reality.
And then, he had died.
Only to awaken in the body of a girl—his own heroine.
Rashely.
She had once been a real girl. And her life, unlike the fantasy world Anurak had written, was filled with silence, heartbreak, and regret.
At sixteen, Rashely had fallen in love. Truly. Deeply.
Her boyfriend wasn't some cold-blooded playboy or a rich heir with a dangerous edge. He was the top student in school—a gentle genius with kind eyes and a warm voice. Handsome, brilliant, and destined for a future filled with stars. He held her hand after class, walked her home in the rain, and looked at her like she was the most precious thing in his world.
And Rashely… she loved him too.
But love was never enough.
When she saw the two faint pink lines appear on the pregnancy test, her world tipped sideways.
She didn't tell him.
Not because she didn't trust him. But because she did.
She knew his dreams. Knew the sacrifices he had made. Knew he had already been accepted into a prestigious overseas university and was preparing for international science competitions. Telling him about the pregnancy would ruin everything he had worked so hard for.
So, she made a choice.
She broke up with him.
No explanation. No tears in front of him. Just a quiet message and distant eyes. She told him she no longer loved him and left without turning back.
He was devastated.
But she never looked back. She couldn't afford to.
Alone and scared, she tried to hide the truth from her family. But secrets are like water—they always find a way to leak.
Her mother found the test in the trash. The house became a battlefield.
"You've disgraced us!"
"We gave you everything, and this is how you repay us?!"
Without ever asking what she wanted, her parents arranged an appointment. Her father spoke of "correction." Her mother cried about "reputation."
She begged them to let her keep the baby.
They refused.
So she ran.
For weeks, she drifted through the city like a ghost, surviving on scraps and sleeping behind grocery stores. Her body grew weaker, but her heart remained firm—until, in desperation, she reached out to her best friend for help.
The betrayal was swift.
Her friend told her parents.
Her parents found her and dragged her back.
A court battle followed—not for custody of Rashely, but for custody of the unborn child. Her father presented falsified medical reports. Her mother wept theatrically before the judge.
And then… they took it from her.
She returned to school. Empty.
Her ex-boyfriend tried to speak to her. He demanded answers. "Why did you push me away? What happened?"
But all she gave him was a hollow smile and silence.
"I'm fine," she told him.
That was the last lie she ever told.
Not long after, on a rain-soaked afternoon, she climbed to the bridge where the river ran deep—and jumped.
And so her story ended.
Until Anurak awoke in her shell.
Now, in this young and fragile body, the soul of a seventy-four-year-old man stirred with grief, fury, and resolve. Rashely had chosen silence, sacrifice, and surrender.
But he would not.
"This body is mine now," he whispered, standing before the mirror, fingers brushing over his smooth, unfamiliar face. "And I will not waste it."
The pain Rashely left behind was etched into the bones of this body, but Anurak would carry it forward—not with despair, but with purpose.
For her.
For the child.
And for a future that would not be written by anyone but him.