I stared at the attendance list glowing on my tablet. Name after name, row after row, none of them had ever shown up. Not once. My finger hovered over the screen before I let it drop into my lap, the soft thud of the tablet against my leg feeling heavier than it should.

Rain tapped against the windows, slow and rhythmic. The empty seats stretched out in front of me, cold and lifeless, like a graveyard of missed potential. I let out a long breath, standing up and pushing my chair back with a groan. The lecture I had prepared, the one I always prepared, would fall on deaf ears. Again.

I faced the chalkboard, tracing the faint outline of the gods I had drawn earlier in the week. Zeus. Athena. Even Kronos. It was pathetic, really. Years of study, a lifetime devoted to these ancient myths and histories, and yet here I was—forgotten myself.

I cleared my throat and faced the vacant room. "Ancient myths," I began, rehearsing the lecture out of sheer habit, "are not just stories. They're windows into our past, into our fears, and our hopes. Through these gods, these legends, humanity sought to explain the chaos around them."

The only response was my own echo bouncing back at me.

I could feel the familiar sting of regret gnawing at me, deep in my chest. What was I even doing? Thirty years old, and this was it? I paused, listening to the emptiness, and a part of me laughed bitterly at how absurd this was. A history teacher with no one to teach.

"We look at Zeus, Hades, Poseidon" I said, almost whispering now, "and we see that power isn't just in the gods. It's in the stories we tell. And the stories we don't."

My phone buzzed on the desk, stopping me mid sentence. I frowned, reaching for it. An unknown number flashed across the screen. I hesitated but answered anyway.

"Hello?"

"Miss Elara Quinn?" The voice was clinical, detached. "This is St. Mary's Hospital. We need you to come in. It's about your father."

The world went still.

My heart pounded in my chest. "Is he...?" I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but your father passed away this morning. You should come as soon as you can."

The words hit me like Thors hammer. My father... gone? Just like that? I hadn't seen him in weeks. I hadn't even called. Guilt, sharp and bitter, clawed its way up my throat, but I couldn't speak.

"I... I'll be right there," I choked out before hanging up.

For a long moment, I just stood there, frozen. My father was dead. My mind tried to process the reality of it, but it was like the words wouldn't stick. He was all I had left. And I hadn't been there. I hadn't even been there.

I grabbed my coat, hands shaking as I fumbled with the buttons. Tears blurred my vision as I rushed out into the rain, the cold downpour soaking through my clothes almost immediately. I didn't care. I barely felt it. My legs moved on instinct, carrying me to the street where my car was parked. I had to get to the hospital. I had to see him. Maybe... maybe there was some mistake. Maybe—

I stepped into the street without thinking. My shoes slipped on the slick pavement, and I stumbled. My knees hit the ground hard, pain shooting through me, but I didn't have time to react. Headlights cut through the rain, blinding me.

The screech of tires. The blast of a horn.

Time slowed.

I turned my head just in time to see the car, too close, too fast. My breath caught in my throat as the world closed in around me. In that moment, every regret, every failure, every lost opportunity hit me all at once.

What had I done with my life?

I was dying. Right here, in the middle of the street, under a relentless downpour. My heart raced, pounding in my chest as the cold rain soaked through me, but it couldn't wash away my regrets. All those years spent buried in books—memorizing dates, dissecting stories that faded into oblivion. What had it all amounted to? Nothing. Just a life that mattered to no one, least of all myself. 

I wasn't important. I hadn't made a difference. I had never changed anything. 

I wouldn't even get the chance to say goodbye to my father. 

I wanted a second chance.

The car struck me, and in an instant, everything went black.