Chapter 2: A Second Chance

It wasn't a dream.

Ivan could still barely move, his limbs weak and uncoordinated, but his mind was running at full speed. He had been reborn. That much was clear.

At first, he had entertained the idea that this was some sort of dying hallucination—a trick of the brain in its final moments. But no, this felt too real. The sterile hospital air, the distant murmur of voices, the uncomfortable warmth surrounding his tiny, fragile body.

And then, he heard them.

A man's voice—rough, slurred, irritated. A woman's—shaky, anxious, desperate.

Ivan's tiny body tensed as recognition hit him like a truck.

No. No, no, no, it can't be…

His head turned ever so slightly, his newborn vision struggling to focus. And there they were.

His father. Unshaven, eyes bloodshot, a cigarette tucked behind his ear despite standing in a hospital room. His expression was unreadable, but Ivan already knew—he never wanted a child.

And his mother. Thin, exhausted, the same hollow eyes she had always had. She wasn't crying from joy. She was nervous. Probably wondering how much money she could squeeze out of government assistance for having a baby.

It was them. Exactly as he remembered them.

This isn't just reincarnation… I restarted my life.

A sinking dread formed in his gut. At first, the excitement of getting a second chance had clouded his mind. But now, reality set in. He hadn't been given new parents, a fresh start, or a loving environment.

He was back in the same miserable life he had tried to escape.

The next few days passed in a blur.

He was taken home—a cramped two-room apartment, stained carpets, the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes clinging to the walls. It was exactly as he remembered from his childhood.

His father barely acknowledged him. His mother wasn't cruel, but she was careless, treating him more like an afterthought than a child.

But Ivan didn't care.

Because this time, he knew what was coming.

And he wasn't going to make the same mistakes.

His overthinking kicked in almost immediately.

Had he been reborn in the same year? Or had history changed? Could he still predict the future, or was this timeline different?

At first, he wasn't sure. But as the days passed, he started recognizing little details—the bulky CRT television, the Nokia phones, the fact that people were still using dial-up internet instead of broadband.

Then, his mother turned on the TV, and he heard the news anchor announce the date.

March 2004.

His heart pounded in his tiny chest.

It's real. It's actually 2004.

Excitement surged through him. He wanted to laugh, to scream in triumph. He had been given a chance to do it all over again.

No debts. No miserable marriage. No dead-end job. Just time.

And this time, he knew exactly what was coming.