He slowly walked to the dining room.
His mind was a mess.
"I don't know what to do..."
To live with them—
or to leave them behind?
If I stay... I might bring them pain.
If I leave... I know they'll miss me.
They've probably done everything in their power to find me.
But what if living with them somehow brings back the past?
What if my presence becomes a disease—
infecting their peace, their happiness?
"I don't want to see them turn into my old parents... broken, hurt… because of me
************"
Then his mother's voice called out,
"Come quickly!"
"Breakfast is getting cold!"
He slowly walk to dining room than
He slowly looked up…
And saw his new parents waiting at the table.
Something about them made him pause.
He didn't know why—
but in their faces, in their eyes…
there was a faint, blurry resemblance.
A strange echo of the ones he had lost.
It wasn't exact.
Not enough to say they were the same.
But enough to stir something in his chest—
a mix of longing… and fear.
Then he pulled out the chair and sat down slowly.
His eyes lifted—quiet, unsure—as he looked at them.
His father sat calmly, reading the newspaper, glasses low on his nose, face steady but peaceful.
Across the table, his mother was softly humming a tune—
a gentle, familiar melody that tugged at something deep inside him.
She placed a dish in front of him with care, her hands moving with love and habit.
"Eat while it's warm," she said with a smile.
He stared at the food for a moment.
Not because he wasn't hungry…
But because this moment—this normal, simple morning—
felt so close to something he had lost…
and yet so far from what he truly knew.
The hum of the tune,
the warmth in her voice,
the quiet presence of a father—
it all felt like a dream replaying with new faces.
He slowly began eating, though his thoughts drifted elsewhere—
caught between the warmth of the moment and the weight of his past.
Then his father's voice broke the silence, calm and steady,
"Dear, it looks like the South Duke and the Elven Kingdom still haven't agreed on each other's demands.
It's most likely going to turn into a war between them… over the mines."
A faint flicker of unease crossed his mother's eyes.
She paused, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the plate.
Then, with a soft, trembling voice, she asked,
"But… dear… our village is right between their territories.
What's going to happen to us?"
His father didn't look up from the paper.
He remained composed, his tone meant to reassure.
"Don't worry," he said.
"Wars like these don't start overnight.
It'll take four or five years, maybe more.
These things… they always begin with talks, negotiations.
There's still time. I'm sure they'll reach some agreement before it comes to that."
But even as he spoke, a subtle tension lingered in the room—
like the air before a coming storm.
And the boy… he could feel it.
Something about this world, this family, this life…
was about to be tested.
"And don't worry," his father added, a hint of confidence in his voice.
"I've made some backup plans… just in case."
He folded the newspaper and placed it gently on the table,
then turned his gaze toward the boy.
"Sam, my son," he said warmly,
"How's preschool going?"
The sudden question pulled Sam out of his thoughts.
He looked up, startled for a moment—
as if the name Sam still didn't fully belong to him.
"…It's… it's fine," he replied quietly, almost unsure.
He didn't know how real that answer was,
and how much was just what they wanted to hear.
But his father smiled, proud.
And his mother's humming picked up again—this time, softer, gentler.
Sam lowered his eyes back to the food,
the weight of the new name…
the new life…
resting quietly on his shoulders.
*********
After breakfast, Sam quietly stood up and walked back to his room.
The soft clatter of dishes and his mother's humming faded behind him,
replaced by the silence of his own space.
He closed the door gently,
as if trying not to disturb the world outside—
or the storm inside him.
The room was simple.
A bed, a desk, a few toys neatly arranged on a shelf.
It looked like it belonged to any ordinary child.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
The name Sam, the voice of his "father,"
the humming tune that echoed something forgotten—
it all spun inside his head like a quiet whisper he couldn't shake.
He leaned back slowly, eyes tracing the ceiling.
"Think, Sam… think," he muttered to himself, lying still on the bed.
"What if that past-life dream never happened?
What if it was just… a dream, nothing more?"
Would I still feel this way?
Would I still question everything?
Would I still hesitate to live—
to belong?
He closed his eyes tightly, fists clenching the bedsheet.
The weight inside him wasn't just from memories…
It was the feeling of being split between two lives—
One he barely remembered, and one he wasn't sure he could accept.
"If I never saw that dream…
Would I be happy with this family?"
"Would I still want to run… or stay?"
The silence answered with nothing but the sound of his own breath.
After thinking about it again and again,
turning every question, every fear, every memory in his mind...
He finally whispered to himself,
"I've decided…"
A calm, quiet strength settled in his chest.
"I will live this new life—fully.
I may not understand everything,
but I can't keep running from it."
"I can't keep living with regret…
or chasing shadows of who I was."
He sat up slowly, as if something inside him had shifted.
"I may not be the boy I once was…
but I am Sam now."
"And if this life gave me a second chance…
I'm going to make it mean something."
This world held many dangers.
Monsters, wars, power struggles…
Things far beyond the reach of a normal child.
But Sam looked out the window, his eyes firm with new resolve.
"To fight them…
To protect this new life…
I have to become strong."
He placed his hand over his heart.
"Stronger than I've ever been."
"In my past life, I ran from pain.
This time… I'll face it."
"I don't know what's waiting out there—
But I know one thing:
I won't lose this second chance."
A deep breath filled his lungs,
as if something within him finally woke up.