Returning Home

Adam sat on his hospital bed, staring at his hands, still trying to process everything. It was all real—the scent of disinfectants, his mother's voice, the sensation of his body feeling lighter, healthier. It wasn't just a dream or an alcohol-induced hallucination.

He was back.

"Are you sure you're okay?" his mother, Linda, asked as she sat beside him, holding his hands the way she used to when he was a child. Her eyes were filled with concern, but also with a love he had never truly appreciated before.

He nodded slowly, trying to hide his confusion.

"Yeah… maybe I'm just a little shaken up from the accident."

"Thank God. I was so worried about you."

She patted his hand before standing up to grab her purse. Then, with a warm smile, she said,

"The doctor said you can leave today, but you need to rest for a while. I'll go handle the paperwork. Wait here, okay?"

He nodded silently, watching her walk out.

As soon as she disappeared through the door, he turned back to the mirror.

His face… it wasn't the face of a man worn down by years of failure and regret. He was back in his seventeen-year-old body.

This was insane.

But it wasn't a dream.

He clenched his hands, feeling the strength in his muscles—stronger, healthier than he had been in years. His vision was clearer, his thoughts sharper.

This wasn't just a second chance.

It was salvation.

—

A few hours later, Adam walked out of the hospital with his mother, the cold air brushing against his face in a way he hadn't felt in years. The world looked brighter, more alive. It was as if he was seeing everything for the first time again.

"Come on, let's take a cab," Linda said, raising her hand to hail a yellow taxi, which stopped immediately.

Adam slid into the backseat beside her as she gave the driver their address.

"Home, Brooklyn."

Brooklyn… New York.

New York.

The perfect city. The place where record labels and studios filled every corner, where music never stopped. Sony Music, Universal Music, Warner Music… names he had dreamed of working with but had never managed to catch their attention.

This time, it wouldn't just be a dream.

He glanced at his mother, who was quietly watching the city pass by. A sharp pang of guilt hit him. How many times had he ignored her? How many times had he seen her as an obstacle rather than the one person who always believed in him?

"Mom…" he suddenly said, making her turn to him in surprise.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

He hesitated for a moment, then smiled—a genuine smile he hadn't felt in years.

"I love you."

Her eyes widened, then she laughed softly and squeezed his hand.

"And I love you too, honey. But what's with all the sudden affection?"

He shook his head, laughing lightly.

"Nothing… I just realized how lucky I am."

Linda sighed, then looked out the window before saying,

"By the way, don't forget you're performing at the bar tomorrow, right? I hope you're ready."

Adam blinked.

"The bar?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Yes, the bar where I work. I talked to the manager and arranged for you to sing there. I know you want to be a singer, and this will be a good start for you."

He held his breath.

His mother… she had been the one to set up that opportunity for him.

And this would be his first-ever performance.

—

The taxi pulled up in front of an old two-story building in Brooklyn. The house was small, but it looked strangely familiar, like a faded memory brought back to life.

Adam stepped out slowly, watching his mother pay the driver before turning to him.

"Come on, don't just stand there like you're seeing the place for the first time."

He smirked. But that was exactly what was happening.

He followed her inside and stopped at the doorway. The house wasn't luxurious—it was simple and modest. The furniture was old but neatly arranged. White curtains covered the windows, and the small table in the center held a vase of artificial flowers—the same ones he remembered from his past life.

"What do you think?" Linda asked as she placed her purse on the couch.

He smiled slightly.

"It's… just how I remember it."

She gave him a curious look but didn't comment.

"I'll make you something to eat. You must be hungry."

He watched her disappear into the kitchen before sitting down on the couch, running his fingers over the worn-out armrest. In his past life, how many times had he sat here, drowning in frustration? How many times had he cursed this place for being too small, too limiting—thinking it wasn't the kind of home someone with big dreams should have?

But now… he appreciated it in a way he never had before.

A few minutes later, his mother returned with a plate holding a sandwich and a glass of juice, placing it in front of him.

"Eat up, then you can rest for a bit if you're tired."

He took a bite of the sandwich, and despite its simplicity, it was the best meal he'd had in years.

After he finished eating, Linda sat beside him, watching him for a moment before saying,

"Adam, I want you to take this performance seriously. It may be a small place, but it's an opportunity."

He looked at her—the way she spoke. She wasn't just his mother. She was the one person who had always believed in him, even when the world laughed at him.

"I will. I promise."

She smiled and patted his shoulder.

"That's my son."

Adam took a deep breath, then looked out the window. New York stretched

out before him—a city of opportunities and music.

And this time, he wouldn't waste his chance.

This would be his first performance.

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