The sky rumbled ominously over Croydon as storm clouds gathered, casting the world in an eerie twilight. Inside a modest semi-detached house, Ethan Thompson paced restlessly, his fingers tightening around his phone. His wife, Sarah, was at the hospital, about to give birth to their daughter—a moment he had waited for with both excitement and trepidation.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, checking the screen for the hundredth time. No updates. The last message from Sarah's sister had come thirty minutes ago: Still in labor. Doctor says it won't be long now.
Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the living room in a white-hot glow. Thunder followed immediately, rattling the windows with its ferocity. Ethan had never been afraid of storms, but tonight felt different—charged with a strange electricity that raised the hair on his arms. He should be there with her, holding her hand, not trapped here by the sudden closure of roads due to flooding.
Before he could react, a deafening crack split the air as lightning found its mark far too close to the house. The power surged through ancient wiring, and a wave of energy coursed through his body from the phone charger he'd absently plugged in. The force threw him off his feet, his vision fading into oblivion as one final thought flashed through his mind: I'm going to miss everything.
Ethan awoke in an unfamiliar place, his body stiff and foreign. His limbs felt leaden, as though they had been left unused for years. Blinking against the sterile brightness of the room, he struggled to process his surroundings. The rhythmic beeping of machines filled his ears, and the unmistakable scent of antiseptic hung in the air.
A hospital.
The door creaked open, and a nurse with short auburn hair entered, eyes cast down on a chart. When she glanced up, she gasped, the clipboard nearly slipping from her fingers.
"Dr. Williams! He's awake!"
Moments later, footsteps rushed in—multiple sets, creating a chaotic percussion against the linoleum floor. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair appeared beside him, his expression a mixture of relief and disbelief. His white coat bore the name "Dr. Alan Williams" embroidered in blue.
"Ethan Thompson, can you hear me?" The doctor's voice was gentle but urgent, his eyes scanning Ethan's face for signs of comprehension.
Ethan's throat was dry, his voice barely a whisper. "W-where... how long...?"
The doctor hesitated, exchanging a glance with the nurse. He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed, a gesture that sent a ripple of dread through Ethan's weakened body. Doctors didn't sit down to deliver good news.
"Mr. Thompson, you've been in a coma for two years."
The words sent a shock through his core. Two years. He had missed two years of his life. Two years of his daughter's life. His breath quickened, panic clawing at his chest, causing the heart monitor to spike with frantic beeps.
"Sarah… Lily… where are they?" He managed to force out the words, his eyes wild with fear.
"Your wife and daughter are fine," Dr. Williams reassured him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "We've contacted Mrs. Thompson. She's on her way." He paused, his expression softening. "She's been here almost every day, you know. Reading to you, talking to you. She never gave up hope."
Ethan tried to process this information, but his mind kept catching on one detail. His daughter. Lily. The baby he had never met was now a toddler. Had she taken her first steps without him? Said her first word to someone else? Did she even know who he was?
The reunion was surreal. Sarah entered the room hesitantly, as though afraid to believe what she'd been told. She was older, exhausted, with new lines etched around her eyes and mouth, yet radiant with relief. And beside her, holding tightly onto her mother's hand, stood a little girl with dark curls and wide, curious eyes that mirrored his own.
"Ethan..." Sarah's voice wavered as she rushed to his bedside, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You're awake. You're really awake." Her hands hovered over him, afraid to touch, as if he might shatter under her fingers.
He couldn't speak. His eyes locked onto the child beside her. She was no longer the newborn he had imagined holding. She was walking, talking—growing up without him. A tiny person with thoughts and feelings and a personality that had formed in his absence.
Lily peered at him with cautious curiosity, half-hidden behind her mother's leg. "Mummy, who's that?" Her voice was soft and high, with the slight lisp of early childhood.
Ethan's heart clenched. He reached out a trembling hand, fighting against the weakness in his muscles. "I… I'm your daddy, sweetheart."
She hesitated, then took a small step forward. "Daddy?" The word sounded foreign on her lips, a concept she understood in the abstract but had never truly known.
Tears blurred his vision. "Yes, love. It's me."
Sarah knelt beside Lily, her voice gentle. "Remember how I told you Daddy was sleeping for a long time? He's awake now. He's come back to us."
Lily studied him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, with the simple acceptance that only children possess, she stepped forward and placed her tiny hand in his palm. "Hello."
Warmth spread through him at the contact, a surge of love so powerful it nearly overwhelmed him—until a sudden chime echoed in his mind, clear as crystal yet impossible to place.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
A flood of information filled his consciousness. A voice—not external, but inside him—spoke.
[Welcome, Host. Due to prolonged dormancy, the Divine Father System has been activated to aid your recovery and care for your daughter. Skill integration in progress…]
A wave of sensation washed over him. His mind burned with knowledge—music theory, composition, techniques for instruments he had never touched before. His fingers twitched, as if they had played for years.
He gasped, gripping the sheets. Sarah rushed to his side. "Ethan! Are you okay? What's wrong?"
The overwhelming input settled. Ethan exhaled shakily. "I… I think I just remembered how to play the piano."
Sarah frowned. "But you never learned the piano."
Ethan looked down at his hands. "I know. But I can now."
He didn't understand it yet, but something inside him had changed. A new world of sound and creation had opened up to him. And for the first time in two years, he had a purpose.
A spark had been lit.
And he was going to turn it into a symphony.