HOME SWEET HOME

I jolted upright, my heart racing, and sweat beaded all over my forehead. I wiped it off with the back of my hand and let out a deep sigh, feeling like I'd just dodged a bullet. I was back in my old room, yes, the tiny room. The tiny room with no library or gaming area, the tiny room with no Ann, the tiny room with my family picture I called home!

I gazed around at the familiar sights: the worn-out paint, the small windows that let in sunlight, and the crooked curtains that always seemed to be slightly askew.

I looked down at myself, taking in my shirtless torso and the ratty boxers that had made their daily appearance from under my sweatpants. I couldn't help but shake my head at the stark contrast to the million-dollar silk sleeping wears I'd worn just hours before. I shut my eyes, feeling the softness of my bed beneath me, and let out another sigh of relief. When I opened them again, my gaze drifted to the clock on my nightstand: 7:36 am. For a moment, I just sat there, replaying the events of the past few days like a movie in my head.

I'd lived like a king in a gilded cage, trapped in a life that wasn't truly mine. I'd lived two lives, and in the process, I didn't even think much about grandma.The whole Sukani thing had been a setup, perhaps a lesson to teach me that I couldn't wish my problems away.

It didn't work...

Riches and fame were infact the answers to my prayers. I knew it in my bones - I still had one wish left, a second chance to get things right. All I needed to do was come up with a way to solve all my problems in one sentence, and I'd be golden!

As I sat there, lost in thought, the door burst open with a familiar creak, and my mother walked in, looking like she'd just rolled out of bed and thrown on the first things she found on the floor. But despite her haggard appearance, she still managed to radiate her effortless beauty. I smiled to myself - I'd called her "mother" on purpose, remembering the whole wish thing.

She wore her grey sweatpants, faded from countless washes, paired with her favorite purple top. The combination wouldn't normally win any fashion awards, but on her, it looked chic. Her wrinkled apron, worn inside out, was splattered with a battle map of grease and food stains, testament to her culinary exploits in the kitchen. Her hair was roughly tied back in a loose bun, a few stray strands framing her face like a soft, golden halo.

Despite the chaos of her appearance, she looked like she'd just stepped out of a casting call for the perfect housewife/mother in a local TV show - warm, relatable, and utterly lovable. The sight of her made me feel better.

She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing into slits as she gave me "the look" - a potent mix of exasperation, disappointment, and unadulterated fury. It was the "you're so dead" look, the "I'm going to skin you alive" look, the "I'm going to work in your school as a librarian and make your life a living hell" look. The thought sent shivers down my spine, making my heart quail in fear. For the first time, I actually wished Sukani had tossed me into the future - anything to escape the impending doom that was my mom's wrath.

But then, something unexpected happened. She sat down on the edge of my bed, her expression softening into a warm, gentle smile. "Chester," she began, her voice low and soothing, and I found myself moving closer, like a moth to a flame. "I'm sorry." I was taken aback, my eyes widening in shock. "What?!" I exclaimed, my voice rising in disbelief. Why on earth was she apologizing? Was she confused or something? I racked my brain, trying to remember if we'd covered menopause in reproductive health class -I hadn't exactly been paying attention, but I was pretty sure she was too young for that - she was only in her early thirties!

She placed her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Chester," she said, her voice filled with remorse, "we always keep expecting you to understand and keep up with our problems, when in the long run, you're just a kid." I nodded vigorously, feeling a lump form in my throat as I gazed up at her.

"I'm sorry I slapped you yesterday," she continued, her voice flat. "It was so wrong of me. I have decided not to accept the offer." She added, a warm smile spreading across her face. And at that moment, I felt a rush of adrenaline course through me, like a rollercoaster cresting a steep hill. I was on cloud nine, floating on air. It wasn't just that I'd stumbled upon a fucking, breathing, magical wishing well, or lived two whole lives in one crazy day, or might have -accidentally-on-purpose flushed Dad's beloved goldfish down the toilet. No, it was better than that. I was in love with the woman that sat before, in love with what she'd just said, with the weight of her words, with the realization that my mom saw me, truly saw me, as a kid who deserved protection and understanding. It was better than a wish come true – it was real, it was raw, and it was everything.

"Mom," I said, my voice trembling with a nervous laugh, like a guitar string plucked for the first time. Ideally, I was supposed to tell her it was okay, that she should take the job and secure our family's future. But as she'd said, I was just a kid, and kids are selfish. So instead, I blurted out something entirely different.

"Mom!" I repeated, my voice rising like a crescendo. She turned to face me, her eyebrows shooting up. "What?!" she asked.

I took a deep breath, "I just fell in love..." I began, my words spilling out. She laughed, thinking I was joking, and asked me with who. But I was dead serious.

"With you, Mom, with you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My mom's laughter filled the room, a warm, rich sound that made me feel at home. She kissed my forehead.

"Yeah, Chester, I know it's just for today," she teased, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Talk about giving your mom pickup lines!" She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back. "Get ready for school, and come have breakfast." I nodded, still grinning from ear to ear, and blew her a kiss. She smiled and shook her head, as she walked out of the room.

I sank into my bed, my legs kicking wildly in the air like a total dweeb who'd just been asked out by his ultimate crush. I couldn't contain my excitement. The godforsaken job was rejected without any intervention!

After a quick bath, I bounded downstairs, my feet thundering on the stairs.

In the kitchen, my parents were busy tidying up after breakfast, their movements choreographed like a perfectly rehearsed dance. It was super cute, and I couldn't help but feel a warm feeling inside. Sometimes I'd catch them gazing into each other's eyes, and I'd tease them, saying, "You're in love, we get it already!" But deep down, I loved seeing them like this – happy, in love, and totally absorbed in each other.

The little things mattered – the way they cooked together, their hands touching as they passed utensils; the way my dad helped my mom open the pickle jar, his hands wrapping around hers; the way he'd retrieve things from the top shelf, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled; the random forehead kisses, back hugs, and the way he called her "honey" with so much love in his eyes. It all mattered, and it all made me feel grateful to have them as my parents.

"Good morning, Chess!" My dad boomed, his smile infectious and bright. I grinned, my eyes scanning the kitchen for the telltale sign of pancakes – the maple syrup. "Looking for this?" My dad asked, producing the syrup from behind his back like a magician pulling out a rabbit. "Oh, you know it!" I replied, my voice a bit louder than I'd intended. My dad chuckled and gave me a friendly slap on the arm. "That's my boy!" he said, his eyes shining.

As we savored the fluffy pancakes, drizzled with golden maple syrup and butter, I couldn't stop talking about movie night while I ate. It was a habit my dad hated, but could never seem to break me off. My dad offered to drop me off at school, but I politely declined, making up silly excuses about needing the exercise, when really I was just avoiding the embarrassment of being seen in his rusty old minivan.

The walk to school wasn't the usual 30mins brisk walk, but more of a leisurely stroll, stretching to 50 minutes or more, as I found myself lost in the beauty of the estate. For the first time ever, I didn't focus on the sleek, expensive cars that drove past me. I took in the serenity of the surroundings - the lush green lawns, the vibrant flowers, and the warm sunshine casting a golden glow over everything. And for a moment, I was actually happy...