San Diego — 2001
Ethan left the community theatre with his heart still humming from the performance he had given. The afternoon sun hit him like a warm spotlight, and for the first time since waking up in this resurrected year, he felt the faint spark of an old, forgotten dream flicker alive.
He didn't head home.
He walked.
Aimlessly, at first — letting the city guide him, the way he used to imagine destiny guiding successful actors. San Diego wasn't Hollywood, but today it felt like a launching pad, a runway where something important was waiting just out of sight.
He paused near the trolley station, watching people rush by — students with backpacks, office workers in suits, skateboarders rolling across pavement. He marvelled at the way he could feel everything again. His senses seemed sharper. More alive.
Then he noticed something unusual.
A woman on the bench across from him was crying.
Not sobbing — trying not to sob. Quiet tears, hidden behind sunglasses. Her yellow folder sat in her lap, shaking slightly as she clenched it.
Ethan hesitated.
This wasn't his business.
But… his instincts tugged at him. The instincts of a man who had lived through two decades of regret and pain, regrets that came mostly from the moments where he hadn't acted.
He approached slowly.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently.
She stiffened, wiping her face quickly and forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just—long day."
He gave her space but didn't leave. "You sure? I can go if—"
"No," she said quickly. "It's fine."
She sighed and looked down at her folder.
The label caught Ethan's eye:
"ER — CASTING SIDES"
His heart froze for a second.
Was that—?
She noticed him staring and lifted the folder slightly. "Yeah. It's for that medical show. NBC. Filming some scenes here before going back to LA."
Ethan tried not to freak out. "Are you an actress?"
"I… I'm trying to be," she said. "Or was."
She swallowed hard.
"I froze in the audition. Completely. Three lines. Just three! And I blew it. They gave me another chance in an hour, but I—God, I don't know why I'm telling you this."
Ethan sat beside her gently.
"What role?"
She flipped open the sides. "Paramedic. Small recurring part." She laughed bitterly. "I can't even land a three-line part."
Ethan's blood ran warm with recognition.
That was one of the shows he had originally gotten in his first life.
This is the moment, he realised.
This was destiny offering him a thread.
But he didn't grab it immediately.
Not like his old self would have — desperate and selfish.
Instead, he said softly, "Can I help?"
She blinked. "Help?"
"Run lines with you? Maybe that'll help you relax."
She stared at him, analysing him. "Why? Don't you have somewhere to be?"
Ethan chuckled. "Not really. And I know a thing or two about freezing."
She hesitated, then handed him the sides.
They ran the lines.
Once. Twice. Five times.
Each time, she stumbled at the emotional beat.
She wasn't bad — she was terrified.
"You're trying to be perfect," Ethan said softly. "Don't be."
She exhaled shakily. "I feel like… everything depends on this moment."
"I know," he said. "But the more pressure you add, the worse it gets."
She studied him curiously. "You talk like someone older than… well, you."
Ethan winced but smiled. "Yeah. I get that a lot."
They ran it again.
This time, she was better.
Not perfect — but real.
She blinked in surprise. "That felt… natural."
"It was," Ethan said. "Try it again."
They ran the scene three more times. Her confidence grew. Her breathing steadied.
She stood up suddenly. "Okay. Okay. I can do this."
He stood with her. "You can."
She gave him a grateful look — the kind of look he would've died for in his first life. "Thank you. Seriously."
Ethan nodded. "Go crush it."
She took a few steps away, then turned. "What's your name?"
"Ethan."
"I'm Rachel."
He smiled warmly. "Break a leg, Rachel."
She ran down the street toward the casting building.
Ethan watched her go — wishing he could follow. But he wasn't going to barge into someone else's audition. He had changed. He wasn't selfish anymore.
But fate wasn't done with him yet.
A man who had been watching from across the street approached. He wore a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a clipboard. He looked like he belonged on a set — a production assistant or talent coordinator.
"You coached her," the man said, stopping in front of Ethan.
"What?" Ethan asked, confused.
"I saw the whole thing. You coached her through the sides."
Ethan swallowed. "I was just helping."
The man nodded slowly, impressed. "Funny thing is… I heard every word you said."
Ethan froze.
The man lifted his clipboard and tapped it.
"I'm with casting. I'm filling in today." He looked at Ethan up and down. "You ever acted before?"
Ethan exhaled through his teeth — half a laugh, half disbelief. "A little."
"Uh-huh," the man said. "You handled the emotional beats better than half the people who walked in today."
Ethan's stomach tightened. "Are you saying…?"
"I'm saying," the man said with a grin, "we're running short on male auditions. One guy didn't show. You wanna step in?"
Ethan's heart pounded hard enough to shake his chest.
This was it.
The moment.
The intersection of fate and opportunity.
But he kept his voice calm.
"I don't have anything prepared."
"You don't need anything," the man said. "It's the same sides she had."
Ethan blinked.
The same scene he had just practised five times.
"Come on," the man said. "If you're not scared."
Ethan almost laughed.
He had been scared his entire first life.
But now?
No.
He wasn't scared anymore.
He was ready.
"Let's do it," Ethan said.
The man clapped him on the back. "Follow me."
As Ethan walked toward the building, the world seemed to slow down — colours brighter, sounds sharper, air warmer.
This wasn't luck.
This wasn't a coincidence.
This was the universe giving him a chance because he had helped someone else instead of chasing glory.
As he stepped through the doors of the casting hall, Ethan whispered under his breath:
"Round two."
He entered the room.
A small stage.
A casting director.
A camera.
A single chair.
The casting director looked up. "You're… not on my list."
"He impressed me," the assistant said. "Let him read."
The casting director shrugged. "Fine. Whenever you're ready."
Ethan lifted the sides.
Breathed.
And began the most important audition of his second life.