Layla got out of her room, stretching her arms and cracking her neck. The air felt fresh, and her steps were light, filled with a strange sense of energy she couldn't explain. It was as if her body wasn't the same anymore—stronger, sharper, and… alive.
She walked down the hallway, following the smell of something delicious. As she entered the dining room, she paused and smiled. On the table were three beautifully prepared dishes.
Her mother, Elif Aksoy, was standing beside the kitchen counter, wiping her hands on her apron.
"All this for me?" Layla asked, surprised.
"Yes," Elif replied, smiling gently. "You're finally home, and healthy again. I wanted to make something special."
Layla's eyes scanned the dishes: creamy lentil soup with fresh herbs, spicy grilled chicken with a rich marinade, and her favorite—stuffed grape leaves with rice and minced meat. The sight made her stomach growl.
Without hesitation, she sat and began eating heartily. Every bite brought warmth, not just from the food but from the feeling of being home.
"This is amazing, Mom. Honestly, you should open a restaurant or something," she said between mouthfuls.
Elif chuckled softly. "As long as you're happy and healthy, I'll cook whatever you want. That's all I want."
Layla looked at her mother with a soft expression. She knew how much Elif had sacrificed. Elif Aksoy had raised two children on her own ever since she lost her husband ten years ago in a car accident. But she never let grief destroy her. She held on, for her children—Layla, her firstborn, and Emre, her youngest.
Even when things got tough, Elif stood strong.
Now that her daughter had recovered from her recent mysterious illness and was no longer bedridden, Elif felt immense relief. She watched her daughter eat like she hadn't in days, and her heart swelled with gratitude.
---
Later that night, the house was quiet. The warm scent of dinner still lingered in the air. Layla and Emre were in the living room, sprawled on the couch with popcorn between them.
The TV played The Flash Point, starring Donnie Yen. Layla was completely engrossed in the movie, her eyes fixed on the screen, barely blinking.
Emre glanced at her, frowning.
"It's strange. You never liked action movies before," he said.
Layla didn't take her eyes off the screen. "What's strange about it? The movie's really good."
Emre leaned back, arms crossed. "If it was a week ago, you'd be fighting with me over the remote, demanding to watch some Korean drama instead."
Layla shrugged. "People change."
Emre squinted at her. "You're not just watching the movie. You keep imitating the actions. What, do you want to learn Kung Fu now?"
She smirked. "Maybe."
"I can teach you if you want," Emre said, puffing up his chest.
Layla turned to him slowly. "Can you? You keep coming home bruised every now and then. You can't even protect yourself from school bullies, and you're thinking about teaching me Kung Fu?"
Emre's face flushed. "What?! Do you dare challenge me to a fight?"
Layla stood up casually, brushing crumbs off her shirt. "Be my guest."
Just as they were about to start, their mother's voice came from the kitchen.
"Emre, what do you think you're doing? Your sister just got out of the hospital today."
"Don't worry, Mom," Layla said. "I'm more than fine. Let me teach this brat a lesson so he can learn to respect his elders."
Elif sighed, but didn't stop them. She could feel something was different about Layla—but strangely, she wasn't worried.
The siblings walked to the open courtyard behind the house, a small tiled area they often used to play badminton or football. Now, it would serve as their duel ground.
Emre stretched his arms. "Ready to be humiliated?"
Layla gave him a calm smile. "Ready when you are."
They stood facing each other, feet apart, eyes locked. Emre lunged first with a playful punch, but Layla dodged it with ease, moving like water.
He tried again, faster this time, aiming for her shoulder.
She ducked, spun, and tapped the back of his leg with a sweep that knocked him off balance.
He stumbled, blinking. "Okay, what the hell?"
Layla didn't respond. Her posture was perfect, stance grounded like she had trained for years. She moved again, imitating the exact techniques Donnie Yen had used in the movie earlier.
Jabs, counter-moves, fluid parries—Emre couldn't even keep up.
"What the… How is this possible?" he asked, panting.
"You don't know what's possible yet," Layla said calmly. "This is just the tip of the iceberg and you're already awestruck."
She stepped forward again and launched a series of precise strikes, all soft but accurate. Emre couldn't block any of them. He was being overwhelmed.
"Okay! Okay! I give up!" he shouted, waving his hands.
Layla stopped and stepped back.
"You're really secretive these days, sis. When and where did you learn how to fight like that?" he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"That's my secret," Layla replied with a faint smile.
She couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. That strange moment when she drowned… the mysterious woman who appeared… the light that filled her… the feeling that something powerful entered her body.
She didn't know what truly happened. But she knew one thing—she was no longer the same person. Her memory had become sharper. She could remember and imitate anything she saw just once. Her body had healed completely. She wasn't even tired after fighting Emre.
It was as if she had been… reborn.
When she thought she was dying, she was actually changing.
Her body was now perfectly balanced, her mind clear. She could learn anything with ease. She felt invincible.
"Okay," Emre said, catching his breath. "If you don't want to tell me where you learned it, at least teach me! Please?"
"No problem with that," Layla said, folding her arms.
"Great! Let's start now," he said, eyes shining with excitement.
Layla nodded and walked over to him. "First things first. Your stance is too open. Narrow it. Keep your guard up."
Emre adjusted.
"Lower your center of gravity. Balance is key," she continued.
She began showing him some basic blocks and punches, correcting his posture, teaching him how to move fluidly.
"Don't tense up. Relax your shoulders. Let your movement flow naturally."
They kept training. Emre was clumsy but eager. Layla showed incredible patience, pointing out mistakes, then demonstrating flawless technique.
"You're like a real master," Emre said.
Layla smiled but said nothing.
Her mind drifted for a moment. That woman's voice still echoed inside her. She had felt warmth, power, knowledge. That voice told her she was chosen. That her life was not supposed to end that day. That she would unlock potential beyond imagination.
But for now, she kept her secret.
She would train Emre.
And one day soon… she would discover the truth behind her awakening.
---