A second chance.
That was what I wished for.
The one thing I prayed for every night before I sleep. The one thing I prayed for, at the very night before I woke up in an entirely different life.
A new life.
My second chance.
❈❈❈
I was 30 years old wh...
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—First life. St. Vincent's Hospital, year 2027—
Another day came passing by, another guest came to give me a surprise visit.
This time, though, the surprise was welcomed. Even if I clearly was not expecting to see her there.
She came in when I was snoozing off the exhaustion after my morning routines—the physical therapy and blood test which was taken to see how well I was hanging on after I had gotten the last drug pumped into my system. I was doing fine this morning. Yet on that afternoon, I woke up to a pain in my stomach. It had me clenching my hands tight but surprisingly felt no urge to throw my lunch out of my belly.
That was a first.
As my eyes slowly cleared out of the haze, that was when I finally saw her.
It was like looking through a piece of an old portrait the way I found her. Perched at the edge of my bed, she had her back facing the window, allowing the silver strands combing her dark hair to glow under the sunlight. She had yet to notice me awake as she had her head down, humming softly as she was peeling a tangerine so patiently and cleaning it up before placing them on a plate.
Just like the way she used to do it back when she was nursing my ailing mother.
"K-Kara?"
She nearly let go of the fruit in her hand at the sound of my voice, but managed to place it back into its basket as she moved to reach my hand. "Oh, baby—you're awake," she said, looking at me with her misty eyes. I knew then that some time while she was watching me asleep, she must have been crying.
The endearment she was giving me made me smile though, completely distracting me from her rattled state. "I'm not a baby, Kara. I'm about 30, after all," I told her with a smile as I pushed myself up to sit.
Yet she scoffed and waved her small hand at me. "Almost. But not yet. It's nowhere near your birthday yet," she told me, smiling as she did, before a frown came to her face the minute she heard me clearing my dry throat. "What do you need? How are you feeling?"
"Thirsty," I told her, frowning, and she was quick to leave her seat to help me with a glass of water.
"I peeled some tangerines for you," she said as I slowly drank my water, waking myself up from the drowsiness which still remained. "Your friend—he told me that tangerine helps ease the bitterness on your tongue and might stop you from getting nausea before mealtime. Though he did warn me not to let you eat too much so you can still have your meal."
