chapter 5

I walked along the familiar path, my whole childhood flashing through my eyes as I followed the road leading to my home. Along the way, I saw a few uncles and aunts who stopped me to ask how I had been and other usual things. After replying politely, I hurried back home.

As the house came into view, I saw that it was still the same as I remembered from my memories. I had too much emotional attachment to this home, but I knew there wasn't much time left for me to hold on to those memories. I needed to think practically and make the best use of the time I had left.

I stood at the door for a minute, taking a deep breath. In this world, it hadn't been that long since I last saw my parents, but in reality, it had been more than six years since I had laid eyes on them. It was an overwhelming feeling, and my heart... felt heavy.

I rang the doorbell and stood there for a moment. I heard my mother's soft voice saying, "I'm coming." Then, she opened the door. A look of surprise flashed through her eyes as she saw me standing there.

"Evelyn?" she said softly.

And that was it. I don't know why, but hearing her voice, seeing her in front of me again, shattered the control I had been holding onto. The emotions I had suppressed—the grief of those five years, the loneliness, the overwhelming burden of survival—suddenly burst out, and my eyes filled with tears.

Without a word, I lunged toward her and hugged her tightly.

"Evelyn?" She was startled by my behavior, concern lacing her voice. "Sweetheart, is everything all right? What happened? Why… why are you crying?"

As I sobbed against her, I heard my father's voice from inside.

"Anya, who is at the door?" he asked.

A moment later, he walked out and saw me.

"Evelyn?" His face filled with confusion and concern. "What happened? What are you… why are you crying?" He hurried toward me and gently patted my back.

"My brave child, why are you crying like this? And how come you're here? You didn't tell us anything."

"David, I don't know what happened," my mother said, clearly shaken. "I just opened the door, and… she just started crying."

"Oh… Evelyn, sweetheart? Come inside," she urged, her voice soft and full of worry. "Sit down and tell us what happened. Everything will be alright."

Their assuring words… they didn't comfort me. Instead, they only made me want to cry harder.

When I was alone in that world, I had yearned for someone to tell me that everything would be alright. To have someone care about me, to reassure me that I wasn't alone. Even on my deathbed, when that mutant killed me, I don't think anyone even thought of giving me a proper burial. I would have just been a feast for those fifty mutants.

It took me a good ten minutes to calm down. My parents sat with me—my mother holding my hand gently while my father sat across from me, his eyes filled with concern.

"Now tell me what happened. Why are you here all of a sudden? It's not your break yet, and what was all that crying about? Is something wrong? Did you lose your job?" he asked.

I simply shook my head.

"David, she's just feeling emotional. Try to be more considerate toward your daughter instead of asking all these typical questions," my mother gently scolded him, leaving him speechless.

Their familiar bickering brought a small smile to my face. I wiped my remaining tears and took a deep breath.

Looking at my mother, I said, "Mama, do you believe in me?"

She was caught off guard by my sudden words. I could tell her mind was racing, speculating all kinds of possibilities—anything from heartbreak to a frightening encounter with a stranger. Her face showed it all.

"Sweetheart, you are our treasure, our only child. Of course, we trust you. We believe in you. Now tell me what happened."

I started narrating everything—the way I had lived, what was going to happen, and, finally, how I had returned at the moment of my death.

The living room fell into complete silence. My father looked at me with a mix of emotions, but distrust wasn't among them.

I knew they believed me. They were the only people I was confident enough to tell, knowing that they would believe me without question.

My mother looked at me with concern.

"Evelyn, if what you're saying is true… my sweetheart, you've suffered a lot."

In that moment, I truly understood why they say a mother's love is unmatched. Despite everything I had told her—how they had died, how the world would turn into chaos—her first concern was that I had suffered.

Her love and worry overwhelmed me, and I gave her another side-hug.

"Mama, it's not about the suffering. It's about losing you all… knowing I'll have to live without you, without Dada."

"Evelyn." My father called my name softly. "Sweetheart, since you know what's about to unfold, what do you want us to do to help you?"

I took a deep breath and told them about my plan.

"Avalon, sweetheart," my father interrupted. "What you're saying is practical and probably the best option, but don't you think the authorities will get suspicious if, out of nowhere, our entire family decides to move to another country—especially one we've never even visited before?"

As expected from someone with life experience, he had caught onto something I hadn't considered before.

I looked at him and said, "Dada, the country we're going to is relatively poor. Why would they bother checking on us?"

He shook his head. "Look, we're not from an influential family where we can just pick up and leave without raising questions. If we sell everything here and suddenly decide to migrate without any clear reason, our own country's intelligence department might take notice. Yes, the country we're moving to might not care, but the country we're living in is strong. Its intelligence agencies could see this as suspicious. They might create hurdles in the process, and with the little time we have, we can't afford any delays."

His words made sense. I hadn't thought of it that way before.