Riley stood outside the kitchen doorway, hand braced against the frame like the entire house might collapse if he breathed too hard.
The hallway was exactly as he remembered at sixteen—family photos, scuffed paint, the tiny dent in the wall from when Aria tried to ride a skateboard inside.
But what hit him hardest wasn't the sight.
It was the smell.
Warm toast.
Sweet vanilla candles.
Laundry soap.
A faint hint of his mother's perfume drifting through the air.
The smell of a life he lost without ever noticing when.
The kitchen was alive with morning sunlight. It spilled onto the old wooden table, catching dust motes in the air like floating stars. The kettle hissed softly on the stove. And his mother stood there—ten years younger—humming an off-key tune while flipping eggs in a pan.
Riley's breath hitched.
He hadn't seen her like this in years. The version of her in his memory had tired eyes and worry lines etched into her forehead. This one was brighter. Softer. Unburdened.
"Morning," he whispered.
Mom turned, startled. When she saw him, her eyebrows rose. "You're up early. And before breakfast is even on the table. Are you okay?"
Riley swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yeah. I just… wanted to see everyone."
Mom paused, spatula in hand. She studied him for a moment, then smiled warmly. "Well, that's a nice change."
Before he could respond—
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
Aria burst into the kitchen like a natural disaster, holding an empty cereal box above her head.
"MOOOOM! Sofia ate my cereal again!"
Sofia followed quietly, cradling her bowl. "It was one bowl."
"It was MY bowl, Sofia!"
"It's cereal, Aria. I didn't steal your organs."
"It felt like you did!"
Riley couldn't help it.
He laughed—soft, broken, almost disbelieving.
They were so… young.
Aria at fifteen was a whirlwind of chaotic energy, all wild hair and zero self-control. Sofia was her perfect opposite—calm, gentle, soft-spoken. Together they created the kind of noise he once found annoying…
…and now found priceless.
Aria froze mid-rant when she noticed him.
"Oh. My. God. whats up with you Riley"
Sofia blinked owlishly. "He looks emotional."
"I am NOT emotional," Riley said instantly, wiping his eyes.
"HE'S CRYING," Aria declared, pointing at him accusingly. "MOM, RILEY'S CRYING."
"I'm not crying!"
Mom turned from the stove. "Girls, leave your brother alone."
Aria leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "He totally cried."
Sofia nodded thoughtfully. "His eyes are red."
"I had allergies," Riley muttered.
"You're allergic to emotions," Aria shot back. "Makes sense."
Mom placed plates on the table. "Come sit. Breakfast is ready."
Riley sat slowly, as if the chair might vanish if he moved wrong. His fingers brushed against the table's surface—a rough groove he remembered carving accidentally ten years ago. He swallowed again. Everything felt surreal.
Sofia took the seat beside him, peering gently at him. "You're really quiet today."
Aria plopped into her seat. "He's not quiet. He's weird."
Riley sighed. "I just… missed all of this."
Aria froze mid-bite.
Sofia looked up softly.
Mom paused with the fork in her hand.
Riley regretted the words immediately—they sounded too raw, too exposed.
But he didn't take them back.
Sofia's voice was gentle. "We're right here."
"I know," Riley said quietly. "And I don't want to take that for granted."
Aria blinked at him. For a moment her mask slipped and something tender flashed in her eyes.
Then she immediately ruined it:
"Is he dying?"
Sofia gasped. "Don't say that!"
Mom rolled her eyes. "He's fine. Leave him alone and eat."
Aria leaned closer to Riley and narrowed her eyes dramatically. "If you're dying, you have to tell us. It's the law or something."
"That is not a law," Sofia whispered.
"Pretty sure it is," Aria insisted.
Riley snorted. "I'm not dying."
He wasn't.
He was living again.
For the first time in years.
---
A memory poped in this mind drom before
The loss of his sisters hadn't been sudden.
It was gradual.
Slow.
Painful in hindsight.
Aria's invites stopped first.
"Can you come to my school performance?"
"Busy."
"Will you help me practice for my presentation?"
"Can't. Raid tonight."
"Want to play a board game?"
"Working on a build."
After enough rejections, she stopped asking.
Then Sofia.
Sweet, anxious, soft-spoken Sofia.
She once knocked on his door late at night.
He remembered it vividly:
"Riley? Can I… can I talk to you for a minute? I don't feel good…"
He was mid-match.
"Not now, Sof. I'm busy."
She had gone silent.
Didn't knock again.
By the time he noticed, the damage was done.
He lost his sisters without them ever leaving the house.
Back to the Present
Sofia rested her chin on her hand. "You're thinking so hard your brain might explode."
Aria nodded. "This is the most serious I've seen him since that time he failed a math exam."
Riley snorted. "It was one exam."
"And you cried."
"That's not— Never mind."
Aria smirked.
Mom sat down finally. "So. What's on your mind?"
Riley inhaled deeply. "Realmwalker launches today."
Aria groaned loudly and dropped her forehead onto the table. "MOM, MAKE HIM STOP. He's going to rant about patch notes."
"I'm not going to rant," Riley protested.
"You're already ranting," Sofia whispered.
Riley glared at both of them. "Look, can you just listen?"
Aria crossed her arms dramatically. "Fine. You have thirty seconds before I fall asleep."
"I want us to play it," Riley said. "Together."
Both girls stared like he'd just announced he planned to become a monk.
"Wait." Aria held up a finger. "You want us to play a video game?"
Riley nodded. "Yes."
"With you?"
"Yes."
"Voluntarily?"
"YES."
Sofia blinked slowly. "You've never asked us to play anything."
"I know," Riley admitted. His voice softened. "And I regret that."
Aria squinted at him. "Alright, who are you? Seriously. This isn't normal behavior."
Riley smiled faintly. "Think of it as… me trying to be a better brother."
Aria's expression faltered. "Oh."
Sofia gave a gentle, hopeful smile. "I'd like to play with you."
Aria shrugged. "Sure. Fine. Whatever. But only if it benefits me."
"It will," Riley said confidently.
Aria leaned forward. "How much are we talking?"
"Potentially a lot."
Aria slammed a fist on the table. "SOFIA! Pack your toothbrush! We're going to be millionaires!"
"We are not packing toothbrushes," Sofia whispered, giggling.
Mom glanced at Riley, amused but suspicious. "Just make sure you don't drag them into anything dangerous."
Riley smirked. "It's an online game, Mom. What's the worst that could happen?"
Aria raised a hand. "I once saw a video of a guy who screamed so loud he fainted. That could happen."
"Then don't scream," Riley said.
"No promises."
Sofia tugged his sleeve gently. "If we're playing… you'll help us, right?"
Riley turned to her—this brighter, younger Sofia—and felt something warm and fierce settle in his chest.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be there every step of the way."
Aria watched him thoughtfully for once. "...I think I like this version of you."
Mom smiled warmly. "Me too."
Riley glanced around the table:
At Aria's wild grin.
At Sofia's soft eyes.
At his mother's carefully hidden pride.
He'd lost all of this in his first life.
Not this time.
He would never drift away again.
He had his family back.
And he wasn't letting go.