You wanted to become a teacher

The ride to the orphanage was quiet, peaceful, and honestly, it felt good to finally take a breath of fresh air after being in that house for so long.

The cab driver hadn't spoken to me again except to ask my destination, and now the only sound in the car was the quiet hum of the traffic outside.

I had lived in New York in my past life, and while the city was a beautiful place, it was also loud, noisy, and the people were always a pain in the arse.

This city was different, not too quiet but not too noisy either.

When we finally stopped, I stared at the building through the glass for a while before getting out. I paid the driver, and he immediately drove off.

The Shining Stars Orphanage looked as beautiful as I had imagined it would look in my head.

It was quiet. Peaceful, even. A bright blue-brick building with sun-faded murals on the outer walls — a lion holding a paintbrush, a group of stars surrounding children with raised arms. The words beneath the main window were chipped but readable:

Let the children's light shine the brightest.

A garden surrounded the building, and I could see children running around and playing in the yard. Everything looked lively and happy and beautiful.

My footsteps padded on the green grass as I walked up to the front entrance. The children mostly ignored me, focusing more on playing with each other. I felt my heart thudding, my palms cold and clammy. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find here.

The inside smelled like roses, disinfectant, and something sweet — maybe fresh bread. The reception was simple, warm-toned with framed drawings on the walls. A small front desk stood a distance away, and behind it sat an elderly woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a neat bun.

I approached the desk, and she immediately looked up at me. Her eyes sharp but warm.

"Hello, can I—" her words cut off as her eyes widened. She looked me up and down, and then a wide smile broke out on her face. "Oh dear, Royalty, is that you?"

I blinked, then blinked again. "You recognize me?"

She gave me a look that seemed so utterly fond it made my heart ache. "Of course I do, child. You did stay with us till you were older."

I nodded in reply. Well, Oliver did. I shook my head. Leon had told me to start thinking of it as my life. If I wanted this whole second-chance Life Exchange Program to work, I knew I had to start taking decisions like it's my life.

"Oh, just look at you," the lady had now rounded her desk. She cupped my cheeks and tilted my head to the left side and then to the right side before finally meeting my eyes. "You've grown so much. So handsome."

I blushed, and she chuckled, letting go of my cheeks. "Now, not that you're not welcome here, but you haven't been back in years, Royal. What brings you here?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it off. "I just felt lost and wanted to remember."

She gave me a sad look but didn't say anything else. "Is your brother with you, dear?"

I shook my head. "No, just me."

She gave me another one of her wild smiles, then took a hold of my hand and motioned toward a hallway. "Come, walk with me then. We can remember together."

I followed her down a corridor lined with doors — classrooms, maybe, or dorm rooms. Everything looked clean and bright and lively.

"You might not remember me, but I’m Sister Isha," she said. "Like I said, you stayed with us until you were twelve. You came to us when you were just a little three-year-old, Eniz was one. Two little boys who lost their parents in a fire. Two little boys who wanted to protect each other."

Sister Isha looked at me, her eyes shining bright. "You were such a wonderful boy, Eniz too. You loved your little brother so much you would give him whatever he wanted, and Eniz, that boy looked up at you like you hung the stars itself."

She paused beside a wall covered in old photos — old black-and-white group pictures of children and caretakers. "You protected your brother so fiercely, even if it meant you got hurt yourself. You didn't care."

It almost felt like we were talking about someone who wasn't there. But I'm standing right here.

I stared at one of the photos. A group of kids sat cross-legged in the grass, smiling up at the camera. It didn't take long for me to locate myself. In the middle of the group, a little boy with amber-colored hair and hazel eyes sat pressed tightly to a smaller boy's side.

Me.

That's me. Not Oliver. Me. They weren't joking when they said everything will be tailored to fit me like I had always lived this life.

Sister Isha kept talking. "The other kids loved you, used to call you big brother even though you weren't much older than them. You were the closest they had to a big brother."

I swallowed. "So why did I leave?"

She gave me a look. "Well, you turned eighteen, and the Black family — you were especially fond of their son Callahan, and Callahan adored you."

I gave her an incredulous look. She didn't seem to notice it and kept on talking.

"The Blacks are great benefactors of the orphanage — still are. They came here a lot with their son Callahan, and you two were as thick as thieves. Absolutely adored each other."

The look hadn't left my face even as she took a hold of my hand again and continued drawing me down the hallway.

"I was finally glad you had someone to protect and care about you."

Care.

Care?

Callahan cared.

I blinked back to reality when we were suddenly sitting down. Sister Isha had led me to a garden that I guessed was behind the orphanage. The kids were more here, running around and yelling at each other, caretakers here and there.

"Now," Sister Isha sat beside me. "Tell me what's wrong, child."

I looked at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Something is wrong, child. You are sad."

I sighed, shrugging. "I guess, I just feel a bit.....lost."

She nodded in understanding. "That's understandable, child. It's okay to feel lost once in a while."

"Is it?"

"Of course."

"Well, I don't like it."

She creased up. "I think that's one of the reasons you wanted to become a teacher — to help the lost."

I looked at her with a brow raised. "Teacher?"

She gave a single nod. "A teacher."

I gazed out into thin air. A teacher? In my past life, that was the kind of job my family would have easily found a disgrace and not high-class enough. But this isn't my past life, right? I can be whatever I want.

"I always thought you would have become a great teacher," she added, giving me a bright smile. "Still do."

She excused herself when two children started fighting over a toy car. I sat there, staring into nothingness.

It hit me gently, but with certainty, like sunshine after a rainy day— and for the first time in a while, I smiled.

Hell, yeah. I'm gonna be a teacher.