After reincarnating in this world, I always had a lingering suspicion in my heart that this all might just be a dream, and when I would wake up, Mom would be making breakfast for me.
Dad would be getting ready to head to his office.
My little brother would be watching TV, nagging Mom for breakfast with his usual impatience.
It was a scene completely etched in my mind, a tableau of my past life that felt more real than anything in this fantastical new world.
My ordinary life was simple but full of warmth and routine. Each morning, the smell of freshly brewed coffee would drift from the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs.
Mom, with her gentle smile, would hum a tune as she prepared our meal, her movements graceful and practiced. Dad, ever punctual, would sit at the dining table reading the morning newspaper, his tie neatly knotted, his briefcase by his side.
