When Felix opened his eyes, he was standing in a familiar place—too familiar to question.
The street was quiet, washed in a soft evening glow, the kind that made everything feel distant and fragile. The air was cold and unmoving. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed faintly, but the sound felt hollow, like it came from another time.
He was standing near his house—but not in the present. It felt like 2039.
And he wasn't alone.
Rose Williams.
She stood a few steps ahead of him.
She looked the same as she always did in his memories—casual clothes, hair loosely tied, a calm expression that carried both kindness and distance. Beside her stood a man whose face Felix couldn't see clearly. They weren't holding hands, but the space between them felt intentional.
Rose didn't look happy.
Her body was turned slightly away, as if she had already made up her mind. Then she started walking.
"Rose," Felix called.
His voice reached her—but she didn't stop.
She took another step forward.
"Wait," he said again, louder this time.
She paused—just for a second. Not long enough to turn back. Not long enough to stay.
"I have to go," she said softly.
There was no anger in her voice. No regret.
Only certainty.
Felix moved toward her, but the ground beneath his feet felt heavy, as if it resisted every step. The distance between them stretched instead of shrinking.
"Why?" he asked, sinking in the ground.
She finally looked back at him.
Her eyes weren't cold. They weren't cruel.
They were gentle.
And that hurt the most.
"Some things don't wait forever," she said.
Then she turned away.
She walked down the street, her figure slowly dissolving into the fading light. Felix tried to follow—tried to speak, tried to hold onto the moment—but the world around him blurred, its edges breaking apart like mist.
And then—
His eyes snapped open.
"HAAH… HAAH…"
Felix lay still, staring at the ceiling, his chest rising faster than usual.
'A dream?
Yes. It was a dream.'
It clung to him—not sharp, not terrifying—but heavy, like an echo from somewhere deep inside.
He turned his head slightly and glanced at the clock.
06:05 a.m.
His body reacted before his mind caught up.
He pushed himself upright, heart thudding. "I'm going to be late for Practice—"
Then he stopped.
His eyes fell on the date.
30th July. Sunday.
Sunday.
The realization came slowly, like a hand easing pressure off his chest. School was closed. No early badminton practice. No whistle waiting for him.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and lay back down, one arm draped over his eyes.
The dream lingered.
Not the images—the feeling.
In his first life, that moment had been real. Not dramatic. Not explosive. Just final. He had watched her leave without stopping her. Without saying anything meaningful. Convincing himself there would be another chance.
There hadn't been.
He turned onto his side, staring at the faint light creeping through the curtains.
"This time…" he murmured.
At 06:15 a.m., Felix got up again—this time calmly.
He changed into his running clothes and stepped out of his room. The house was already awake in that soft, unspoken way it always was on Sundays.
Downstairs, Radha was in the garden, watering her plants and quietly talking to them. Yes—talking. She always did.
Krishna stood in the living room, sipping warm water, already waiting.
"Good morning, Dad."
"Good morning, Felix."
"Ready?" Krishna asked.
Felix nodded.
They stepped outside together.
The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant flowers. The neighborhood was still half-asleep—shops shuttered, streets empty, the occasional bird call cutting through the silence.
They walked side by side.
No conversation.
No need for one.
As they passed Rose's house, the dream surfaced again—but Felix shook his head lightly and focused on the path ahead. For now.
Krishna's footsteps were steady beside him. Familiar. Reliable.
They reached the park and followed the same path they always did. Trees lined the walkway, their leaves stirring gently as sunlight filtered through in broken patterns. A few people were already there—jogging, stretching, starting their day in quiet routines.
Felix breathed in deeply.
The dream slowly loosened its grip.
By the time they returned home, Radha was already in the kitchen.
She glanced up and smiled. "Welcome back. How was the walk?"
"Peaceful," Krishna replied.
Since it was Sunday, Felix decided to help his mother in the kitchen. He freshened up quickly and moved in without being asked—cutting vegetables, setting utensils, moving around with the ease of someone who had done this many times before.
Radha welcomed the help with a smile.
As he worked, Felix remembered how he used to help her on weekends like this—how these moments slowly became rare, and then disappeared altogether.
By 09:30 a.m., breakfast was ready.
Sandwiches. Pasta. Simple, comforting food.
The smell pulled Alex out of his room.
"Oh, look who finally decided to join us," Felix said dryly.
"Is this the time you're supposed to wake up, Alex?" Krishna added sternly.
Sensing danger, Alex moved toward his only savior. "Mom, today is Sunday. I only get one day to sleep a little more," he said, pulling out his best puppy-eyed expression.
"Alright, enough," Radha said, placing food on his plate. "Eat."
"But mom—"
"No buts."
The boss had spoken.
They ate breakfast with light conversation, laughter filling the space.
Then—
Brrmmm… Brrrmmm…
A familiar sound cut through the calm.
The low growl of an engine.
Felix looked up instinctively as the sound grew closer, then stopped right outside.
Radha raised an eyebrow. "And here comes my adopted child."
The doorbell rang.
DING.
Felix stood and opened the door.
Nikhil burst in first, helmet under his arm, energy filling the room instantly. "Good morning, respectable citizens!"
Dev followed more quietly, hands in his pockets. "Morning."
Felix blinked.
Both of them.
"I thought only Dev was coming today," Felix said.
Nikhil made a wounded face. "Wow. I see how it is."
Radha laughed. "Come in, both of you. Sit and eat."
Nikhil didn't need a second invitation.
As they settled in, the house grew louder—voices overlapping, jokes flying, plates shifting.
Felix also sat back in his seat.