Blindness—a condition where a person has a severe loss of vision or can't see at all.
Mark knew this well. In his past life, there was a blind boy in his orphanage. He saw how hard life was for that kid, saw the struggles firsthand. But that boy? He fought harder than anyone else in the orphanage.
And now, here Mark was.
That's right. This was Mark's third wish—to become blind. Why? No idea. Idiotic? Definitely. Who the hell wishes for a second chance at life *and* makes themselves blind? No one. But Mark was stupidly smart, so this was his choice.
A new sensation washed over him.
"So this is what blindness feels like," Mark thought. "I might regret this."
But regret wasn't new to him. He always thought about becoming a swordsman, like the character he once played—Alpha. The way she moved, her precision, her skill—it wasn't just about seeing. It was about sensing, about feeling the battle in every fiber of your being. That's what Mark wanted.
He tried to move. Nothing. His body didn't listen.
"Figures," Mark sighed internally. "A baby, like you said."
The room was silent, just the soft shuffle of movement around him. Then suddenly—
A cry echoed through the space. High-pitched, sharp, and full of emotion. A girl's cry.
His new mother.
Her sobs filled the room, raw and unfiltered. Mark couldn't see her, but he could feel her pain. Her voice trembled as she spoke—words Mark didn't understand, but the tone was clear enough.
She was apologizing.
Apologizing for bringing him into the world blind. For something she didn't even have control over.
But Mark couldn't respond. He couldn't tell her this was his "choice." That he "wanted" this. That he didn't blame her.
The language barrier was like a wall between them. He heard every word, every tear, but none of it made sense. Yet, he could feel the meaning in her voice. The guilt. The sorrow.
In his past life, Mark never knew his biological parents. He was an orphan until someone finally adopted him, giving him the warmth of a family he never thought he'd have. He knew what love sounded like. He knew it wasn't always about words.
Lying there, in this tiny, fragile body, Mark thought about that.
"It's okay", he wanted to say. "I chose this."
But all he could do was lie there, listening to the cries of the woman who brought him into this new world. A world where he'd prove, once again, that he didn't need sight to see his own path.
---
Four years later.
Audrey Chist Falcon—he had to remind himself of that name every day. It felt foreign at times, but it was his now. He had shed Mark's past, his old life, and embraced this new one with all its challenges and its possibilities.
Now, at four years old, Audrey sat quietly in the garden, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin. His hands rested on the soft grass, fingers brushing over the texture of the earth. The breeze was cool against his face, carrying the scent of flowers and fresh soil. The world was alive around him, even if it was all a blur to his eyes.
He had long grown accustomed to the darkness. It wasn't just blindness anymore; it was part of who he was. The sensation of the breeze brushing past his face, the subtle shifts in sound around him—these were his eyes now.
But there were still moments, like this one, when his thoughts became louder than the world around him.
He sat perfectly still, his head tilted slightly as if listening for something he couldn't quite place. His ears strained, picking up the distant sounds of nature—birds chirping, the wind rustling through the leaves, the soft patter of footsteps on stone.
But there was one sound that never seemed to reach him.
His father.
Or rather—the "absence" of him.
In the four years he'd been here, he never heard a second voice in the house. No deep laughter, no heavy footsteps, no strong hands lifting him up like he imagined fathers did. It was always just his mother's soft voice, her gentle touch, and her quiet sobs when she thought he was asleep.
Audrey wasn't stupid. He knew something was missing.
"Did he leave because I'm blind?" The thought crept in, uninvited. He clenched his small fists, shaking it off just as quickly. "No. I chose this. This isn't her fault—or his."
But even with that logic, the question lingered.
He had often wondered why his father wasn't around, why he didn't visit like the fathers of the other children he'd heard of in passing. He couldn't deny it. The curiosity gnawed at him, a constant itch he couldn't scratch.
"Mama..." Audrey called out softly, his voice steady despite the storm of curiosity in his chest.
The humming stopped. He heard her footsteps approaching, light and careful. She always moved like that around him, as if afraid he'd break.
"Yes, sweetheart?" she replied, her voice warm but carrying that ever-present hint of sadness he'd grown used to.
"Where's Papa?"
Silence.
For a moment, Audrey thought she hadn't heard him. But he knew better. The pause in her breathing, the subtle shift in the air—he felt it all.
When she finally spoke, her voice trembled just enough for Audrey to notice.
"He's... not here, darling."
Audrey frowned. "Well, duh." That much was obvious. But he didn't push further. Not yet.
He could tell she wasn't ready to talk about it—and honestly, neither was he.
But one thing was certain.
*One day,* Audrey promised himself, *I'll find out.*
He had lived his entire life without a father figure, but it didn't mean he didn't want one. He wanted to know why his father had disappeared from his life. He wasn't just curious about the man's absence; he wanted answers. Not because he blamed him, but because Audrey felt a gap in his world that only a father could fill.
His mother, for all the love she gave, could not be both father and mother. Audrey knew that. But in his heart, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever get to meet his father or if he would remain a shadow in the back of his mind, a mystery never to be solved.
As the sun began to set, Audrey sat back and closed his eyes, letting the world swirl around him. He didn't need to see to know that his journey was far from over.
There was a world to conquer, and a family to understand.
And when the time came, Audrey would find out the truth about his father, his past, and the life he had chosen.
But for now, he rested in the comfort of his mother's presence, feeling the warmth of her hands as she gently touched his head.
"Everything will be okay," he whispered, a promise to both of them.