Adrian, wake up.
Adrian, breakfast is getting cold.
A voice called out to me. Soft, warm, familiar.
Where did I hear this before? Why does it feel so comforting?
My eyelids felt heavy as I slowly opened them, squinting at the morning sunlight filtering through a window. My vision was hazy at first, but as the drowsiness left, the details around me became clearer.
The room was small but cozy. A soft bed, a wardrobe, a simple desk with a PC, and a cabinet filled with books. The atmosphere felt warm, safe. The gentle rustling of trees and distant chirping of birds filled the silence.
Peace.
When was the last time I felt something like this?
I tried to recall what I was doing before waking up, but my memories felt distant, blurred. It was like grasping at smoke, there was something important, but I couldn't remember what.
Well, whatever.
At this moment, I had two more pressing concerns.
Whose voice was that? And what is that delicious smell?
Slowly, I got out of bed and made my way downstairs.
The first thing I saw was a man and a woman, both appearing to be in their early forties. The man sat at the dining table, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee while flipping through a newspaper. The woman stood in the kitchen, just finishing up as she took off her apron.
Her voice rang out again.
"Oh honey, you're finally awake. Hurry up and eat, you're going to be late for school."
My breath hitched.
I froze in place, my heart pounding in my chest.
This sight, this warmth, it was all too familiar.
My lips trembled as I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Mom…? Dad?"
The man put down his newspaper, raising an eyebrow. "Kid, what got you so freaked out?"
I blinked rapidly, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
This, this was impossible.
I swallowed, forcing a small laugh. "Ah… nothing. I think I had a nightmare."
My father smirked. "You cried because of a nightmare? What are you, five?"
"Hey, don't be mean," my mother chided, walking over with a plate of waffles. "Darling, I made these for you since you begged me last night. If you don't finish them, I won't make them again."
I sat down, staring at the plate in front of me.
It was so familiar. The aroma, the warmth, the laughter.
I took a bite. The taste was perfect.
I felt myself getting lost in the moment, savoring the nostalgia of a life that should've been mine.
But deep down, a whisper of doubt stirred.
Something was wrong.
Something was missing.