Darkness pressed in from all sides.
Felix felt himself sinking into it, weightless and numb, as if his body no longer belonged to him. Sounds came and went in fragments—muffled voices, distant echoes, a rhythm like a heartbeat pounding somewhere far away.
"Felix… wake up."
The voice cut through the dark.
His brows twitched.
"Felix! Wake up, idiot."
That voice.
Familiar.
Someone grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly.
"Bro, you'll get yourself into trouble. Wake up!"
Felix sucked in a sharp breath.
His eyes snapped open.
Light assaulted him.
White walls. Wooden desks. The smell of chalk dust and old books. Ceiling fans spinning lazily above. A classroom.
He blinked once.
Twice.
'Where am I?'
His heart began to race.
Before he could sit up properly, a sharp, sarcastic voice sliced through the air.
"Mr. Vedman."
Felix stiffened.
"Are you done with your beauty sleep, or should I dim the lights for you as well?"
The entire class burst into laughter.
Felix's head jerked up.
Standing near the blackboard, arms crossed, eyes narrowed behind thin-rimmed glasses, was a man he hadn't seen in years.
Vincent William.
His English teacher.
Strict. Almost bald. Sharp-tongued. Sarcasm honed like a blade.
Felix's throat went dry.
'This… this isn't possible.'
A hand jabbed his side.
"Oi, stand up," someone whispered urgently.
Felix turned his head.
Nikhil. Nikhil Roy.
Seventeen. Younger. No beard. No expensive suits, in a school uniform. The same reckless grin tugging at his lips, though right now it was laced with panic.
On the other side sat Dev, shaking his head with a look that clearly said,
"You brought this upon yourself."
Felix's hands trembled as he pushed himself up from the bench.
His legs felt too light. Too responsive.
Vincent Sir raised an eyebrow. "You look confused, Vedman. Did you finally realize English exists outside exam halls?"
More laughter.
Felix opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
His eyes darted around the classroom.
The walls were plastered with faded charts and handwritten quotes. Bags lay scattered near the benches. Sunlight filtered through barred windows, illuminating dust particles in the air.
This wasn't a hospital.
There were no machines. No sirens. No blood.
The accident…
The memory hit him like a hammer.
The truck. The impact. Nikhil screaming. Red everywhere.
I died.
"I asked you a question," Vincent Sir said coldly. "Or should I call your parents and ask if sleepwalking runs in the family?"
Felix swallowed hard.
"I—sorry, sir," he said automatically.
The words came out too easily.
Too familiar.
Vincent Sir scoffed. "Sit. And try not to embarrass yourself again."
Felix dropped back onto the bench, heart pounding violently against his ribs.
'Is this a dream?'
'No, it felt too real to be a dream.'
He glanced down at his hands.
Smooth skin. No scars. No signs of age. No veins bulging as they had in his thirties.
His fingers curled into fists.
'This can't be real. Am I imagining all this after dying?'
The bell rang.
Students erupted into movement—chairs scraping, chatter filling the room. Nikhil leaned back, smirking.
"Man, you were gone. Vincent Sir looked ready to murder you."
Dev leaned in. "Well, he is weakest in English, but he also ranks in the top 10 all time."
Felix stared at them.
At their faces.
Young. Untouched by time.
He stood up abruptly, almost knocking over the bench.
"I need… air."
Both of them gave him a confused glance as he walked out.
"What happened to him?" Nikhil asked.
"Don't know," Dev replied.
The corridor stretched ahead—long, tiled, painfully familiar. Sunlight poured in through open windows. Outside, the school grounds buzzed with life. Students laughed. Some argued. Some ran.
Felix's steps slowed.
At the notice board near the staff room, something caught his eye.
A date.
27th July, 2023
His breath hitched.
"No…" he whispered.
His knees felt weak.
'This is my last year of high school.'
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
He backed away from the board, bumping lightly into a wall. His mind raced, trying desperately to find logic, reason—anything.
'I was in 2039.
I was thirty.
I ran a mart…
I died.'
His chest tightened.
"This has to be a dream," he muttered.
He squeezed his eyes shut and slapped his cheek lightly.
Pain flared.
Real pain.
His eyes snapped open.
His breathing turned shallow.
'If this is a dream… why does it hurt?'
A shadow fell over him.
Felix looked up.
Vincent Sir stood there, unimpressed as ever.
"What are you doing loitering here?" he asked sharply. "You didn't look alright, Vedman."
Felix opened his mouth again, but Vincent Sir didn't wait.
"Go to the infirmary and have some rest," he said abruptly. "You clearly aren't in the state to study today. And don't think this excuses you from tomorrow's test."
Felix blinked. "Sir?"
Vincent Sir sighed impatiently. "Do I need to repeat myself? Leave."
Felix nodded stiffly and turned away.
Outside the classroom building, the air felt heavier, warmer. He walked slowly, mechanically, as if afraid one wrong step would shatter everything.
The infirmary gate loomed ahead. But instead of going inside, he moved toward the school's main gate.
Beyond it lay the world he hadn't seen in sixteen years.
He stepped out.
The street looked smaller than he remembered. Shops simpler. No towering digital screens. No autonomous vehicles. Just bikes, buses, and students spilling out in groups.
Felix stopped.
His heart thudded painfully.
'If this is real…'
An exhilarating thought formed.
'I've been given a second chance.'
The word echoed in his mind.
Second chance.
He laughed softly.
Then the laughter died.
Because with that chance came weight.
Sixteen years of mistakes.
Every wrong decision. Every missed opportunity. Every moment of fear that had led him to that mart counter in 2039.
His hands clenched.
"This time…" he murmured, staring at the road ahead, "…I won't waste it."
But even as resolve sparked within him, doubt crept close behind.
'What if this isn't permanent?
What if I wake up again?
What if I fail… again?'
Felix exhaled slowly.
One step at a time.
For now, he was seventeen.
And life had pressed the reset button.