I was nothing special.

A shut-in. A chubby, ordinary girl who blended into the background like a shadow. Easy to ignore. Easier to mock.

The world never ran out of ways to remind me I didn’t belong. Cruel jokes in hallways. Laughter that followed me home. Words sharper than blades, carving deeper than bruises ever could. 

Bit by bit, I shrank into myself until there was nothing left but silence and the weight of my own loneliness.

That night, I decided I’d had enough.

The chair creaked under me. The rope swayed above. My room was still, suffocating, as if the world didn’t care whether I breathed or not. And maybe it didn’t.

Then—music.

It came from the neighbor’s stereo, muffled through the thin walls. A single voice cutting into the darkness.

A voice that shouldn’t have reached me, but did.

Strong. Raw. Alive.

It wrapped around me like a hand pulling me back from the edge. The lyrics told me not to hide my light. That even if it flickered, it still burned.

I gasped, stumbling from the chair, clutching my chest as though those words had physically struck me. Tears blurred my vision, but for the first time in forever, they weren’t from pain—they were from something I thought I’d lost.

Hope.

That voice saved me.

His voice.

Eric. The lead singer of AUREA—the boyband that would one day become gods in the music world. To me, he wasn’t just an idol. He was my lifeline.

And then . . . years later, when he died, the world mourned. I mourned. The one who saved me, the reason of my life, was gone, ripped from life far too soon.

I thought it was over.

But fate had other plans.

One desperate wish, one shattered night, and when I opened my eyes—I was ten years in the past. Before the world knew AUREA. Before Eric was swallowed by fame. 

Before his voice was silenced forever.

I’m just Emy—ordinary, clumsy, and invisible to most. 

But this time . . . it’s my turn.

Eric saved me once.

Now, I’ll save him.

No matter what it takes.

Then—air slammed into my lungs, sharp and freezing.


A rope dangled in front of me. A chair tipped on its side beneath my feet. My own trembling hands clutched the edge of my desk like it was the only thing anchoring me to earth.


I knew this scene. Too well. The suffocating quiet. The cramped four walls of my crappy room. The ugly rope swaying overhead.


"No . . . no, no, no. This—this can't be—"


And then it hit. A muffled bassline thudding through the wall, faint at first, then clearer.


"Don't hide your light. Even if it flickers, it still burns."


My body jolted like I'd stuck my finger in an electric socket.


The candlelit prayer. The collapsing stadium. My desperate wish. The blinding light—


I staggered backward, tripped on the chair, and landed flat on my back with a bone-rattling WHUMP. The rope swung lazily above me like it was mocking me.


"Ow! Damn it—wait . . . WAIT." I scrambled upright, clutching my throbbing tailbone, half-panicked, half-ready to scream at the universe. "This isn't possible. I'm—back?!"


I whipped around. My posters were old and peeling, not the glossy merch I remembered saving up for years later. My crappy flip phone buzzed faintly on the desk, the cracked screen flashing with a missed call.


"Wake up, Emy. You're either dead or dreaming—"


"OW! Not a dream. Definitely not a dream!"


The stereo next door blasted louder, Eric's voice threading through the thin wall. It wasn't the polished perfection the world would one day worship—it was raw, rough around the edges. But alive.


My jaw unhinged. My heart tripped over itself. My brain screamed one undeniable fact:


A hysterical laugh bubbled out of me, part hiccup, part sob.


"I time-traveled . . . because I almost killed myself?!" I squeaked, clutching my head. "Oh my god, I'm literally the main character of a bad fanfiction!"


"Oi! Turn down that screaming in there!" my landlord barked.


I froze. Then snorted. Then dissolved into nervous laughter. "Nope. Not dead. Definitely alive. And . . ." My throat tightened, heart pounding, ". . . oh my God, Eric's alive too."


I staggered to the window and pressed my forehead to the glass. Outside, the world looked . . . smaller. Sleepier.


No towering AUREA billboards. No kids wrapped in merch. Just the same quiet streets I'd once hated.


If this was real—if I was truly here—


Then I had just been handed the impossible.


Chapter 2 - Back to the First Song