He didn't remember falling.
Only the feeling of weightlessness brief, strange, almost peaceful.
Then nothing.
No pain. No fear. Just a deep, formless darkness that wrapped around him like sleep without dreams.
When awareness returned, it did so slowly.
There was a sound.
Sharp. Repetitive. Annoying.
An alarm.
His first thought was simple and irritated.
Who left an alarm on?
He tried to turn to his side, but something felt wrong. The bed was too familiar. The room smelled different older, warmer, like home.
The alarm rang again.
He opened his eyes.
The ceiling fan above him was spinning lazily, making the same faint clicking noise it used to make years ago. Not the silent modern fan in his rented room. This one had character. This one belonged to a time he had left behind.
His heart began to beat faster.
The walls.
The cupboard.
The small crack near the switchboard.
Everything was exactly as it had been.
"No," he whispered.
The alarm rang again.
Then came a voice.
"Reyyy… wake up! You'll be late!"
His mother's voice.
Alive. Close. Real.
He sat up suddenly, breath uneven, hands shaking as he looked around the room. His room. His childhood room. The posters he had never bothered to remove. The old study table with scratches he remembered making.
"This isn't possible," he said out loud.
The alarm clock read a date he hadn't seen in years.
First day of B.Tech.
Outside, the morning sounded ordinary. Vessels clinking. A pressure cooker whistling. Life continuing as if nothing had ever gone wrong.
His door opened slightly.
"Are you awake or not?" his mother asked, impatient but smiling.
He stared at her like she was a ghost.
She frowned. "What's wrong with you? Did you drink last night or what?"
His throat tightened. His eyes burned.
He looked down at his hands young, steady, unscarred by time.
Somewhere deep inside him, a terrifying understanding began to form.
This wasn't a dream.
And whatever had happened last night…
It had sent him back to a moment that should have been gone forever.