The sound of a creaking ceiling fan filled the small New York apartment. Morning sunlight spilled through thin curtains, painting stripes of gold across a worn-out mattress.
William Stewart's eyes snapped open. His chest heaved as though he had been drowning, and he sat up, gasping for air. For a moment, his mind swirled in chaos. His last memory had been of darkness, cold, and unbearable regret—yet here he was, in a shabby room that smelled faintly of coffee and detergent.
His hands trembled as he touched his face. Smooth. Young. Strong. He stumbled out of bed and toward a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. A twenty-six-year-old stared back at him, not the wrinkled, weary man he remembered being.
A soft humming broke the silence. From the kitchen came a voice he had longed to hear—Sarah's.
His throat tightened. Slowly, almost afraid the vision would vanish, William stepped out of the bedroom. There she was, hair tied back messily, standing over a pan of sizzling pancakes. The sight of her, alive and young, hit him like a wave.
"Will?" she asked, turning with a smile. "You're up early."
William could barely breathe. His lips parted, the only words he could manage were a hoarse whisper:
"You're still so beautiful."
Sarah blinked, surprised by his intensity. Before she could reply, a small voice called out.
"Daddy!"
William spun toward the hallway. A boy in dinosaur pajamas came running, his little feet pattering against the floor. Andrew. His son. Not the grown man William had once lost—but a laughing, innocent five-year-old.
William dropped to his knees and opened his arms. "Andrew…" His voice cracked as he pulled the boy close, holding him as though he would never let go.
Andrew squirmed and giggled. "Daddy, you're squeezing too tight!"
Sarah frowned slightly, watching him. "What's gotten into you today?"
William forced himself to breathe, to steady his shaking hands. He kissed Andrew's hair and looked at Sarah with a smile that carried both relief and determination.
"Nothing," he said softly. "I just know… I won't waste a single day with you again."
Breakfast was simple—pancakes that were slightly uneven, eggs that had gone a little too dry, coffee from a cheap tin can. But to William, it was a feast better than any billion-dollar banquet.
He sat at the table, chin resting in his hand, watching Sarah bustle about with her usual quiet energy. Andrew chattered between mouthfuls, swinging his legs under the chair.
"Daddy, look!" Andrew balanced a fork on his finger, proud as though he had built an empire.
William chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. "Careful, champ, or you'll poke your eye out."
Andrew giggled and tried again, determination written across his little face.
Sarah sighed, setting down a plate in front of William. "You two are impossible. One of you is a child, and the other is supposed to be the adult."
William picked up his fork with a grin. "Life's too short not to play sometimes."
The words slipped out without thought. Life's too short. He caught Sarah's glance—curious, almost wary—but she didn't press.
Instead, she sat across from him, smoothing her robe. "Don't forget, Andrew has school today. And I need to stop by the market after. We're running low on groceries."
William nodded. "I'll walk him. We'll go together."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you have time for that? Don't you have deliveries this morning?"
He hesitated, remembering. In this timeline—his new life—he was nothing more than a delivery driver, scraping by while drowning in debt. Not a CEO, not a billionaire. Just a man struggling to keep his family afloat.
"I'll make time," he said simply.
Sarah's expression softened. She studied him for a long moment, as if searching for something new in his face. Then she smiled faintly, shaking her head. "Well, Andrew will be thrilled."
The streets of New York bustled with early morning chaos. Yellow taxis honked, buses groaned at stops, vendors shouted over the smell of bagels and pretzels. Andrew clutched both their hands, skipping between them, his backpack bouncing with every step.
William breathed it all in—the noise, the life, the smell of asphalt warming under the sun. He had walked these streets before, years ago, but back then he hadn't noticed. He had been too focused on deals, on clawing his way upward.
Now every detail felt precious.
At the school gate, Sarah crouched to adjust Andrew's straps. "Be good. No climbing on desks. Share your crayons."
Andrew rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yes, Mommy." Then he hugged both of them before dashing into the building.
William lingered, watching the small figure disappear into the crowd of children. His chest tightened with fierce protectiveness.
Sarah nudged him lightly. "You're staring like you'll never see him again."
William slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "Because I missed too many of these moments before."
She looked at him, puzzled. "Before?"
He leaned down and kissed her. Right there, in front of teachers and other parents.
"Will!" she gasped, swatting his chest. "People are watching."
"Let them," he murmured with a grin. "I want everyone to know how much I love my wife."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and for the first time in years, William saw that sparkle in her eyes again.
Back at the apartment, the weight of reality pressed in. Bills piled on the kitchen counter. Rent overdue. A letter from the landlord threatening eviction. And at the bottom of the stack—a note with a name scrawled on it.
Rafi.
William's smile faded. In his past life, that name had been poison. Rafi had pretended to be a friend, offering loans with kind words and fake concern, only to tighten the noose with interest, threats, and traps. That betrayal had been the first domino, pushing William into years of desperation and reckless choices.
Not this time.
He picked up the paper, crushing it in his fist.
Sarah noticed. "More debts?" Her voice trembled.
William turned to her, his eyes hard. "We'll get out of this. I swear to you."
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "We've been saying that for months. Will… Andrew needs stability. I can't raise him like this forever."
He walked to the window, staring at the busy street below. The year was 2010. The world was recovering from a financial crash. Bitcoin was barely a rumor among computer geeks. Apple was just beginning to take over the smartphone market. Tesla was still being mocked. Collectibles—comics, sneakers, retro gadgets—were treated as junk at garage sales.
But William knew what was coming.
A slow smile curved his lips. "Sarah," he said quietly, "things are about to change. I know it."
She looked at him, her face etched with exhaustion, but something in his tone made her hesitate.
"Don't give me false hope," she whispered.
He turned and met her eyes, his voice steady. "It's not hope. It's certainty."
For the first time in years, she didn't argue.
That night, Andrew fell asleep curled under his dinosaur blanket, clutching a toy car. Sarah read a book beside him until her breathing slowed and she drifted off too.
William lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His body buzzed with energy, with possibility.
The apartment was small. The bills were crushing. But his heart burned with fire.
He had been given a second chance.
And this time, he would not waste it.