I thought death would feel like falling.
Instead, it felt like waking up.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest rising violently as air rushed into my lungs. My eyes flew open, my heart racing, my hands clutching at nothing.
There were no hospital lights.
No machines.
No pain.
I was standing.
On solid ground.
Confused, dizzy, I looked around slowly. The room felt familiar in a way that made my chest ache. The old couch. The framed family photos on the wall. The faint smell of food drifting through the air.
My parents' house.
"No," I whispered. "This isn't real."
My legs moved before my thoughts caught up. I walked then ran toward the sound of voices.
My mother stood in the kitchen, her back turned, stirring a pot. She looked exactly as I remembered her. Alive. Whole. Real.
"Mum " My voice broke.
She turned, startled. "Meenah? Why are you shouting?"
I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around her tightly, burying my face in her shoulder. Her warmth was undeniable. Her heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
She was alive.
I cried like I hadn't allowed myself to cry in years. Loud, shaking sobs that came from somewhere deep and broken. My mother held me instinctively, confused but gentle.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly. "Did something happen?"
My father entered the kitchen then, concern lining his face. He took one look at me and came closer.
"Meenah?"
"I thought I lost you," I whispered. "Both of you."
They exchanged a worried glance.
"You just stepped out a few minutes ago," my father said. "What do you mean?"
"Four minutes ago," my mother added gently.
Four minutes.
The words struck me like lightning.
I wasn't imagining this.
I had gone back.
Later that day, when my father casually mentioned Jon talking about final wedding arrangements my body reacted before my mind did. My hands shook violently, my chest tightening.
"I'm not marrying him," I said.
The room went silent.
My parents stared at me, surprised but not angry.
My father sighed slowly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I said, my voice steady for the first time. "I'm sure."
My mother reached for my hand. "Then we won't force you."
That night, lying in my old bed, staring at the ceiling, memories from my past life played endlessly in my mind.
This time, I had time.
This time, I had a choice.
And this time, I would live.