Nathan's sleep was disturbed by an unusual thumping sound, followed by a faint sobbing, like tiny waves breaking against soft rocks. He opened his eyes. Darkness. He blinked. Still darkness.
"Where… am I?" he asked inwardly. Yet even the voice in his mind echoed, as if bouncing off soft walls.
He tried to stir. Something pressed against his chest and back at once. "Ugh, tight! What kind of place is this? So narrow…"
He tried to stretch his legs, but they folded back like springs that couldn't rest. His hands moved a little upward, touching something warm, moist, and gently pulsating.
Suddenly, a voice came from outside. Cheerful, yet teasing.
"Ah! You're so naughty!"
Nathan froze. That wasn't his inner voice. It was… a woman's voice. Soft, like a breeze sneaking through the cracks of memory. Then came a light pat against his back, not directly on skin, more like through a thick layer. A blanket, perhaps? Or a wall?
"Who's there?" he whispered. But his voice vanished, dissolving into the rhythmic beats that now wrapped around him again. Like a gentle drum, blending with the rush of water.
He curled up once more, trying to make sense of this cramped world. There was that steady beat, constant and familiar. He had long been used to it, though he never knew its source. But that sobbing earlier… that was new. A cry being held back. Pain, coated with laughter.
"My child…" the woman's voice returned, softer now, almost like a murmur between tears.
My child. So that was the name. Not truly a name, yet every time the voice called him so, warmth bloomed in his chest. Like sunlight wrapping around him, though he had never seen light. Still, his heart knew the warmth was real.
He pressed his cheek against the wall behind his back and heard the voice again. This time, no words. Only silence. But a silence full of noise. A silence heavy with longing, weariness, and love that had no place to spill.
Nathan closed his eyes once more. The beat remained, steady and sure. He felt as though a great hand was keeping watch, unseen yet unwavering. He felt he was not alone.
That night, in a darkness that held no fear, Nathan understood one thing:
he had not yet been born, but he was already loved.
---
The heartbeat was still there.
Not the gentle rhythm that usually rocked him into calm.
Tonight it sounded like a crack, soft, yet bruising.
Like a branch snapping in the silence of a forest.
A crack of sorrow.
Nathan could even feel a kind of pain he had no name for.
A pain that wasn't his, yet seeped into his tiny body, slipping through the walls of the place where he hid.
Not a physical ache. Something deeper.
Something warm, yet pressing tight on his chest.
A pain heavy with loss.
"Where am I?" he whispered faintly.
"Whose heartbeat is that?"
No answer came. Only silence drifting around him, carried by a pulse that now wept in secret.
Nathan fell still. He tried to calm his restless hands.
There was a tremor there, like water being stirred.
He curled up again, pressing his head against the warmest side of the wall.
As if wanting to cling to the very source of that sound.
Then, there was a touch.
Different from before.
Not the playful pinch, teasing in delight.
This touch was slow, careful.
Yet it flowed with warmth, like a small flame refusing to die.
The touch seeped through the layers, and strangely, Nathan wanted only to stay still, frozen, so as not to disturb the moment.
Then came a voice.
A whisper.
Deeper, not as delicate as the one that usually called him my child, but still warm.
"Sleep now, little one. Let your Mama rest too."
Nathan froze.
That voice… a man's voice.
But within it lay something else.
Weariness. And love.
And a hesitation cloaked in strength.
"Mama?" Nathan echoed inside his mind.
And then, as if pierced gently, a new awareness slipped in, uninvited yet undeniable.
"I… am in Mama's belly?"
His hand traced the space around him, as if searching for signs.
There was liquid, soft walls embracing him, and the heartbeat,
a heartbeat that now felt more intimate, more vital.
He was not alone.
Yet he was not fully here.
He had not been born, but already he was a burden of hope.
And perhaps… the source of tears.
---
"Wait!" he cried. But no sound came. Only a vibration echoing inside his skull.
"I'm not a baby in the womb! I'm a grown man! I'm twenty-eight!"
Yet the narrow chamber paid him no heed.
The water still drifted softly around him.
The warm walls still held him in an unchanging rhythm.
And from outside, Mama let out a faint groan,
as if responding to the unrest of a tiny body that wasn't just kicking, but rebelling.
Nathan writhed again, this time with panic seeping in like fog.
He wanted to wake.
To sit up.
To run.
But this body was too small, too frail.
Even lifting his head demanded a battle against invisible limits.
"Why am I here? What happened to me?" he asked, though he knew no answer would come.
His head throbbed.
Fragments flashed,
the blare of car horns,
rain,
the stale scent of coffee,
a phone screen crowded with unread notifications,
a burst of light…
then darkness.
He tried to remember.
But what rose instead was the sound of sobbing from outside.
Not loud weeping, but a muted fracture trying to stay hidden.
And then, the woman's voice, the one who always called him my child, whispered,
"I'm sorry, sweetheart… Mama doesn't know what to do…"
Inside that small body, Nathan's heart plummeted.
Who was this woman? Why did she call him my child?
Why could he remember his age… yet not why he was here?
Was this… punishment?
Or… a second chance?
---
The woman's voice came again. Faint. Yet there was a tone in it that pierced through memory. Like a melody he had once heard… somewhere.
Then the man's voice followed. Not too close, but clear enough.
"Easy… just eat slowly. You're not calm yet."
Nathan froze. His heart, or whatever it was now that beat within him, seemed to stop for a moment.
"That's… Papa's voice?" he whispered inside.
Not just the voice, but the way of speaking, the cadence, the rhythm,
all too familiar to belong to a stranger.
And yet the face… gone from his memory.
Only the voice remained, and the comfort it carried, something he must have once known.
Perhaps in his previous life.
Perhaps in a life now slowly slipping from his grasp.
His tiny body swayed, light, gently rocked.
As though he were in a cradle filled with warm water.
He pressed himself closer to the soft wall, letting the motion carry him.
Peaceful.
But before he could truly enjoy it, something happened.
The sensation came suddenly.
Sweet.
Then… salty. Then savory.
And then,
"What?! Spicy! This is so spicy!!"
Nathan felt like he was burning from within.
His tongue, or rather, the tiny sensors of this new body, flared with a taste that didn't belong in this clear, quiet world of water.
The flavor danced wildly, like little flames crackling along his nerves.
"Mama, what are you eating?! Demon chili?!"
He squirmed, kicking in reflex.
Outside, he heard the woman's soft laughter.
"Oh dear… the baby's protesting," she chuckled.
Then the man's voice followed, clearly holding back laughter.
"Told you not to eat balado at this hour."
Nathan fell silent.
So he could taste Mama's food?
So this body… wasn't a dream?
He pressed his face against the nearest wall.
The heartbeat was there again, this time calmer.
And from a distance, the voices of the two, Mama, and perhaps Papa, spoke to each other in soft conversation.
Nathan closed his eyes.
Even with the lingering sting of spice, he felt suddenly… at peace.
And for some reason, his heart whispered,
"If this really is the beginning of a new life…
maybe I don't mind starting over."
---