Alexander closed his eyes, taking in the warmth of the sun on his face. The sky above was a vast canvas of blue, endless and free from the weight of clouds. He had forgotten what it felt like to simply be still, to breathe in the world without the constant pressure of his past struggles bearing down on him. He let the moment wash over him, the gentle rustling of the wind in the grass soothing his thoughts.
In his previous life, peace had been a rare luxury. He had spent most of his days consumed by the chaos of survival, the constant ebb and flow of hardships that never seemed to let up. His father's hard work, his mother's care, the little moments of joy—they had all seemed so distant as he fought his way through life. The only time he had ever truly wanted revenge was when his life had been slipping away, when the world had felt most unfair, and the desire for justice had been all-consuming. But now, in this moment, he could almost forget all the loss, the struggles, and the pain.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Alexander felt free—free from the burdens of the past, free from the weight of every loss he had suffered. He lay back in the grass, his body sinking into the earth, and let out a long, contented sigh. The world around him seemed to slow, as though time itself had decided to give him a break.
But the peace was short-lived. His mind, ever restless, began to stir. Something wasn't right. Slowly, he opened his eyes, the serenity of the sky now overshadowed by confusion. He looked around, his gaze darting across the field of corn. The lush greenery stretched for miles, but the landscape was unfamiliar. The peace he had felt moments before quickly evaporated, replaced by the gnawing feeling of disorientation. Where was he? How had he gotten here?
Just as panic began to creep in, he heard it—a deep, familiar voice that cut through the silence like a whisper on the wind.
"Are you alright, Alex?"
Alexander froze. His heart skipped a beat. He slowly turned, his body stiff with shock, and there he was—standing in the distance, a figure he knew all too well. His father. Carter.
The sight of him, standing there just as he remembered, was enough to leave Alexander speechless. His eyes welled with tears before he could even form a response. His father's worn face, the familiar deep-set eyes, the graying beard—everything about him was the same. But it wasn't just the physical appearance; it was the presence of a man who had been his strength, his guide, and his constant.
"Dad..." The word barely escaped his lips, choked with emotion. He stood up quickly, his legs shaky, and without a second thought, rushed toward his father. His arms wrapped around Carter's sturdy frame, pulling him into a tight embrace. The tears flowed freely now, the years of pain and longing spilling out in a flood.
Carter, clearly taken aback, stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to make of his son's sudden outburst. He had never seen Alexander so vulnerable, so overwhelmed with emotion. Maybe he had woken from a nightmare, or perhaps something deeper had stirred within him. All Carter could do was hold him, unsure of what else to say.
For a moment, the world faded away, and in his father's arms, Alexander allowed himself to forget. Forget the struggles, the pain, the battles he had fought in his past life. In this moment, there was only the warmth of his father, the feeling of being home again.
As Alexander stood in his father's embrace, the weight of everything he had been through seemed to lift, even if only for a moment. Carter pulled back slightly, his large hands resting on his son's shoulders. He studied Alexander's face, his brow furrowed with concern.
"You've been through a lot, Alex. I can see it," Carter said gently, his voice low but firm. "You need to rest. Go into the house, get some sleep. We'll talk later."
Alexander nodded, still a little dazed by everything that had happened. His father was right—he needed to regain some strength, both physically and emotionally. But there was something else he wanted to do first, something that had been pulling at his heart since he'd woken up in this strange, peaceful place.
He turned toward the farmhouse. It stood before him like an old friend, its familiar wooden walls bathed in the soft morning light. The thought of being inside, feeling the warmth of home, was almost too much to bear. He could already smell the comforting scent of breakfast drifting through the open window, the mix of bacon, eggs, and fresh bread.
His heart thudded in his chest as he made his way to the door. As he stepped inside, the aroma intensified, and he saw her—his mother. Jane, working in the kitchen with a grace and ease that seemed to belong to another time. Her hair, dark and streaked with gray, was tied back in a loose bun, and she hummed softly as she flipped a pancake onto the skillet. The sight of her, so alive and vibrant, sent a wave of emotion crashing over him.
Without thinking, Alexander crossed the room in a few quick strides. His heart pounded in his ears, and before he could second-guess himself, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.
"Mom," he whispered, his voice trembling. The words felt foreign on his tongue after so much silence.
Jane gasped, startled by the sudden embrace, but then she pulled him in close, her arms enveloping him with the warmth he had longed for. "Alex?" she murmured, her voice soft and filled with concern. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you alright?"
The tears came again, unbidden. Alexander's chest tightened as he clung to her, his body shaking. He didn't know why he was crying—perhaps it was the relief of seeing her again, the shock of being back here, or the overwhelming realization that he was no longer alone in this strange, new world. Maybe it was all of those things, crashing together at once.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Jane held him, her fingers brushing through his hair, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. She didn't ask questions, didn't demand answers. She just let him cry, and for the first time in a long while, Alexander allowed himself to feel vulnerable.
But as the sobs slowly faded, and the storm of emotions began to settle, Alexander took a deep breath. He pulled back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He took a moment to compose himself, grateful for his mother's understanding but determined not to lose himself in the emotion of the moment.
"I'm okay, Mom," he said quietly, his voice still thick with unshed tears. "I just... needed this."
Jane smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "It's alright, Alex. You're home now."
Alexander nodded, feeling the comfort of her presence settle around him. But he knew he needed to regain his composure. There was a time for emotions, but now wasn't it.
"I'm going to go upstairs and rest," he said, his voice more steady now. "You finish cooking. I'll wait upstairs."
Jane nodded, her smile gentle. "Of course, sweetheart. Go on and take it easy. I'll call you when breakfast is ready."
With one last glance at his mother, Alexander turned and slowly ascended the stairs to his room. The familiar creak of the wooden steps beneath his feet brought him a sense of comfort, grounding him in this new reality. He wasn't sure what the future held, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could face it.
The room at the top of the stairs was just as he remembered—a simple, cozy space with a single bed and a worn but familiar quilt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking out the small window at the peaceful farm beyond. The sound of his mother humming in the kitchen, the smell of breakfast, the warmth of his father's embrace—everything was so real, so tangible, and yet so surreal. He couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just a dream. This was his second chance.
And for the first time in his life, Alexander felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—he could rebuild what had been lost.