"Kriti, wake up!" A deep voice pulled me from sleep. "What's wrong with you? Yesterday you were up so early, but today, when you actually have work, you're still in bed."
I blinked. My husband stood over me, half amused, half annoyed.
Wait. Husband? Work? Wasn't I a teenager?
"What is happening?" I whispered to myself.
"Finally," he sighed, shaking his head. "Rough night?"
"Rough lifetime," I muttered under my breath, the weight of that dream still pressing on me. I rubbed my temples. "My head hurts."
"That's because you sleep anywhere," he teased, his smile softening the scolding.
Dragging myself up, I went to the bathroom. The mirror reflected an older version of me—my real self. Wrinkles, responsibilities, no traces of that high-schooler I still felt inside. This body again… If only I could live those teenage years once more.
I pushed the thought aside and went to wake the kids, but of course, they were already up.
"Mamma! Last night's story was sooo good. I wonder what that girl will do next," Arin chirped.
I crouched to his level, curious. "Oh, really? What did you love about it?"
He grinned. "The girl in the story… she's just like you."
From the kitchen, my husband nearly choked on his coffee, laughing.
"So funny, isn't it?" I glared, though my lips betrayed a smile.
"Can't deny it," he said, smirking. "The protagonist does resemble you."
"But the boy doesn't resemble Papa," Mira added innocently.
Silence. My husband and I exchanged a look but said nothing.
"Alright, enough chatter," I announced, pulling on my mom-voice. "Get ready. We're late already."
The morning blurred into its usual chaos—breakfast sizzling, lunch boxes packed, kids rushing around. My husband kissed my forehead before heading out to drop them. The simple gesture melted the exhaustion clinging to me. Immediately, two little "demons" jumped on me for their own kisses. My cheeks hurt from smiling.
What a great start to the day, I thought, watching them leave.
Soon it was my turn. I slipped into my formal armor: a crisp white shirt, a black skirt, and an oversized blazer with sleeves rolled. Skincare done, hair in place. After tidying up the storm the kids had left behind, I grabbed my BMW keys and drove to the office.
Being the principal UX designer meant no excuses. Big glass doors welcomed me, the smell of fresh coffee pulled me in, and soon I was lost in endless tasks until school pickup time.
When I arrived at the gate, a teacher smiled. "Ma'am, you don't look like the mother of these two."
"But she is!" Arin shouted proudly, making me laugh.
We headed back to my office; I dropped them off at childcare and returned to the grind until nightfall. By the time we finally got home, my husband was already waiting with dinner.
"Oh, you guys are back!" he said, hugging the kids. The smell of his cooking filled the air.
"Go freshen up, food's ready."
I obeyed, though my thoughts lingered in the bathroom mirror. Was all that chaos in my dream better than this? Back then, I was young, reckless, and full of energy. No responsibilities, just emotions and strange adventures. Which life was better?
A sudden crash snapped me back. I rushed out to find a broken plate on the floor. My kids looked up at me, guilty faces so sweet that my anger dissolved into laughter.
Dinner turned into giggles and playful scolding. Later, storytime came, and of course, they picked the same book from last night. My husband's voice filled the room as he read, their eyes wide with wonder.
I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm of my husband's voice and the kids' laughter wash over me. For a moment, everything was calm. Safe. Ordinary.
And then,
Boom.
I was back in the past.
But this time… it was different.