Shadows of a New Beginning

Three days ago, I had stood in front of the exam board. My heart was pounding as I stared at the result—Failed.

All those years. Endless hours of study, sacrificing friendships and freedom, all leading to this. I failed.

It wasn't just about failing an exam. It was about everything my parents had forced on me. To them, success was everything. It was the only thing that made me worth anything.

I was just their project. Their tool.

At first, I didn't mind. I used to have friends, hobbies. But those slowly disappeared. My life narrowed down to nothing but books, exams, and a future I didn't care about. Every step I took was another step on their path, not mine.

There were no choices. Only obligations.

I hated it. I hated studying for things that weren't mine. I hated the way they praised my grades but never asked how I felt. They didn't want me—they wanted the image of success.

The only escape I had was the books they didn't know I was reading. Psychology. Manipulation books. I started reading them out of curiosity, but they became my solace.

In those books, I found something I'd never had before—control. The strategies, the way you could understand and influence people. It was the only thing in my life that I had control over.

But that was all theory. It didn't change my life.

When I saw the failure, I knew what was coming. The disappointment. The anger. And I was right.

"You've wasted everything," my mother had said. "All these years, and this is what you give us? A failure?"

I didn't argue. There was no point.

Their dreams for me had never been mine.

That night, I left the house. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I couldn't stay. I wandered the city, the streets empty, my thoughts heavy. For once, there was silence.

No expectations. No demands. Just the dark and the sound of my footsteps.

I found myself standing at the edge of the bridge, looking down at the water below. The river seemed endless, its depths a mirror of the void inside me. A gust of cold wind swept over me, chilling my bones, but I welcomed it. The night was silent, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for my decision. For once, I felt in control.

I didn't feel fear. I felt... free.

This was the one thing in my life I could choose for myself.

And so, I jumped.

The water was freezing, numbing my skin instantly. People say that near death, you see your life flash before your eyes. But there were no happy memories. No warmth. No moments of joy.

Just years of being a tool. A project for someone else's dream.

I closed my eyes as the cold embraced me, letting the darkness take over.

When I woke, I felt nothing. No cold, no pain. But I couldn't move. My body was frozen, trapped in a strange warmth.

Where am I? What's happening?

I tried to scream, to move, but nothing worked. I was helpless. Panic rose in my chest, but it was muffled by the soft warmth that surrounded me.

Was I saved? Was this the afterlife?

No. That wasn't it.

The world around me was muffled, the voices distant and garbled as if they were coming through a thick veil. My limbs were heavy, every attempt to move met with an unseen resistance. Warmth pressed against me from all sides, comforting yet stifling, like a prison disguised as a sanctuary.

Frustration surged through me. I had jumped to escape—to get away from that life. But now, it seemed even death wouldn't let me go. I couldn't even succeed at that.

But this warmth... it was almost comforting. For a moment, I let myself relax.

No parents. No school. Maybe being stuck here wasn't so bad.

Suddenly, a force started to push against me, squeezing me tighter. The warmth was gone, replaced by crushing pressure. Panic hit me again, but there was nothing I could do.

I was being pushed... out.

Blinding light hit my eyes as I gasped, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

What is this? Where am I?

The world was bright and overwhelming. Voices cheered around me, but the language was strange, alien. I couldn't understand anything. It felt like being reborn into a world that I had no knowledge of—a world where I was powerless once more.

An old man loomed over me, his head massive. He wore strange robes, and his face was lined with age as he pressed his ear to my chest. His features were a blur, like a giant looming in a land of giants.

Get off me! I wanted to scream, but the only sound that came out was a weak cry.

Confusion rattled through me. Why couldn't I talk? Why was everything so large?

The old man smiled and said something in that same unfamiliar language. It was a series of sounds I couldn't understand, but the tone was clear—he was pleased.

His words rolled off his tongue like he was announcing something important. The others around him repeated parts of what he said, as though confirming it.

One word echoed more than the others. I didn't know what it meant, but it felt significant. I'd remember it.

Only then did I notice the woman holding me. She was pale, her face distant, almost cold. Her eyes examined me like I was something fragile, something to be handled with care, but without emotion. There was no warmth in her gaze, just a clinical detachment.

I stared up at her, unable to move, unable to understand my new reality. The world around me was strange, and I didn't know what this place held for me. It could be anything—a paradise, a nightmare, or just another prison.

But one thing became clear.

This was my second chance.

In this life, I will be free.