Like a lot of people, I had often imagined going back in time, revisiting memories, reliving the good moments, maybe even fixing some regrets.
But imagining it was one thing. Living it… was something else entirely.
Those massive green eyes I saw in the darkness weren't from a monster or a stranger.
They were my father's.
And before I could process it, I found myself in his arms—tiny, weightless, and warm. I had somehow fallen into one of my childhood memories.
I looked down at my hands, small and pudgy. I couldn't even form a proper fist. My legs dangled in the air. I must've been two years old, maybe younger.
The world around me was brighter, softer. Familiar and distant all at once. I recognized the colors of the walls, the smell of the room. The house I had lived in as a child. My home.
My father looked down at me, those same green eyes blinking slowly before a wide smile spread across his face. He pinched my nose gently and said, his voice booming with pride:
