Paradox World — Chapter 3: The World Where I Died
The light consumed him.
Ren's scream was stolen by the void as the pendant dragged him through the folds of reality. He could feel it — the fabric of universes stretched taut, threads snapping and weaving, possibilities flashing faster than his mind could grasp. Colors that didn't exist in his own world slashed across his vision, stinging his eyes, burning into his mind.
A thousand versions of himself flickered in the currents.
A thousand Sonya's lived, died, or never were.
A thousand choices, all bleeding into each other.
Miya's voice was the only anchor.
"Don't resist, Ren. The more you fight it, the more it tears you apart. You're traveling through possibility, not distance. The pendant is showing you what could have been — and what still could be."
His body trembled. He clutched the glowing jewel to his chest, and then—
Impact.
Ren collapsed onto solid ground, gasping. Asphalt scraped his palms. Cold night air filled his lungs. He pushed himself up, coughing hard, and blinked rapidly. The dizziness slowly cleared.
A quiet neighborhood stretched before him — familiar, hauntingly familiar. Orange streetlights hummed against the damp pavement. Rain had fallen recently, and the faint smell of petrichor lingered in the air. His eyes widened.
The Summers' neighborhood.
He staggered to his feet, his heart thundering in his chest. The pendant still glowed faintly in his hand, its warmth pulsing like a heartbeat.
Home… but not home.
He walked slowly, shoes squelching on wet pavement, until the sight of the Summers' house froze him in place. It was the same house he had lived in for years — the same porch, the same white shutters, the same neatly trimmed bushes. But something felt… different. A vibration in the air, a subtle dissonance.
Then he noticed the yard.
Scattered across the grass were toys — a red tricycle leaning against the fence, chalk drawings smeared by the rain, and a stuffed rabbit lying face-down in the mud. His stomach twisted. None of this belonged to his world.
Ren stepped closer, hand shaking as he pushed the gate open. It creaked, the sound sharp in the silence. He crossed the yard like a thief, his heart aching with a dread he couldn't name.
The front door was unlocked.
Warm light spilled from within, along with the sounds of laughter, clinking silverware, and playful shouting. He hesitated, his body trembling. That sound — the sound of family — was alien to him. After Sonya's death, the Summers' house had been silent, grief hanging in the air like chains.
But here… it was alive.
Ren gripped the doorknob, closed his eyes, and pushed.
The door swung open, and he froze in the hallway.
Inside, the Summers were gathered at the dinner table. Michelle bustled in the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour, while Ben raised a glass with his usual booming laugh. Two children — a boy and a girl, maybe eight and ten — chased each other around the table, shrieking with laughter.
And at the center of it all sat Sonya.
Healthy. Smiling. Radiant.
Ren's breath caught. His vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes. He stumbled forward a step, then another, until his knees hit the carpet.
"…Sonya," he whispered, his voice cracking.
The chaos at the table stilled. The boy stopped running. The girl clutched her doll tightly. Michelle turned from the kitchen, brow furrowed.
Sonya looked up. Her fork froze halfway to her mouth. Her eyes widened. The color drained from her face.
"Ren…?"
Ren didn't wait for permission. He scrambled forward, dropping to his knees beside her chair, and pulled her into his arms. His body shook with sobs as he clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder.
"You're alive," he choked out. "You're alive, you're alive…"
Sonya stiffened at first, then hesitantly wrapped her arms around him. But her face — her face was pale with disbelief, her eyes shining with tears not of joy, but confusion and fear.
Michelle gasped, covering her mouth. "Ren… it's—"
Ben set down his glass, his expression hardening as though he were staring at a ghost.
The boy tugged at the girl's sleeve. "Stella, who is that man?"
"I don't know, Bruce," she whispered back, eyes wide.
Ren clung tighter, terrified that if he let go, she would vanish like smoke. "I don't care what this is. I don't care what it means. You're here. You're real. That's all that matters."
Sonya's hands trembled as she pressed them to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Her lips quivered as she spoke.
"…Ren. You're supposed to be dead."
The words sliced through him.
He froze, breath caught in his throat. "What…?"
Michelle's voice cracked as she whispered, "Ren… we buried you. Years ago. You—" She broke down, tears spilling freely.
Ben clenched his fists, his face pale.
Ren's world tilted. His stomach churned as the truth hit him like a tidal wave. In this reality, he had died — not Sonya. His funeral. His absence. His empty room. That's why the Summers had other children now. That's why everyone looked at him as though he were impossible.
And Sonya — his Sonya — had lived.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.
Yet, even as his mind spiraled, he pulled her closer. "I don't care. I don't care what this world says. You're alive. That's all that matters."
Sonya wept against him, clutching him like someone who had lost him once and was terrified to lose him again. The family stared, speechless, caught between disbelief and hope.
And in the far corner of the room, invisible to all but Ren, stood Miya.
Her long blue hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. Her expression was unreadable — part pity, part warning. Her eyes locked on Ren's trembling form.
Her voice slipped into his mind, soft and dangerous.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it? But listen well, Ren: every world has a price. You don't belong here. The longer you stay, the more fragile the balance becomes. Threads will snap. The rift will grow. And when it does… this Sonya, this family, this world… they'll all pay."
Ren shook his head violently, refusing her words. He couldn't let go of Sonya. Not again. Not when she was right here, warm and alive in his arms.
He whispered, broken and desperate: "I don't care. I'll protect her. No matter what it takes."
Miya's eyes narrowed, a storm brewing behind them.
Sonya's voice, trembling but firm, whispered in his ear: "…Ren… how are you here?"
Ren didn't answer. He couldn't. He only held onto her tighter, drowning in the paradox, in the impossible miracle he had been given.
And in the silence, the pendant pulsed against his chest, glowing brighter.
Like a heartbeat.
Like a warning.
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