I opened my eyes—
I "opened" them for the first time after the light had blinded me.
And when I did, I cried.
I was finally free. I finally escaped the darkness and void.
I saw the lights on a white ceiling.
I could feel the air, the warmth.
I could hear.
I could smell.
I could do everything.
And for the first time in my life, I thanked God and everything that existed for allowing me to feel things I had taken for granted before. Things that I came to appreciate once they were taken away from me.
However, my joy and excitement were interrupted by a female voice.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."
I heard the voice of a woman crying and thanking endlessly almost as if God himself made a miracle for her.
Hearing her so clearly made me realize my current situation.
I was being embraced by her arms and I was being held as if I were the most valuable thing in the entire universe.
I could feel her warmth.
I could feel her unsteady and agitated breathing, as if she were overwhelmed with emotion.
And I could feel her tears falling onto my face…
Tears that made me look toward their source.
The woman's skin was white as snow, flawless—without a single pimple, blemish, or open pore, skin that would have been absolutely perfect, If not for the countless scars and wounds that adorned it.
The many scars on her face told a story of a difficult past—or present.
Different kinds of scars, different kinds of injuries marked the face of the person holding me.
Her nose, though now slightly misshapen—likely from a past blow or accident—had delicate and refined features, suggesting that in its prime, it must have been elegant and beautiful.
Her lips were pink, neither too large nor too small, perfectly shaped, giving an air of purity and innocence—features that, in my past life, could have made her a lipstick model.
Yet sadly, they too bore wounds—not from illness, but from past injuries or beatings.
Her hair, emerald green, was messy and unkempt.
Showing signs of being unwashed for days, shining from the natural oil accumulated for gods knows how many days.
Yet strangely, what would have looked filthy or repulsive on others, suited her and even added a strange charm.
It gave her the appearance of a maiden who had just escaped captivity—or a princess disguised as a commoner.
Instead of looking dirty, the shine made her green hair stand out even more, as if it every strand of hair were made out of emeralds.
Her eyelashes were long, delicate, and beautiful—
lashes that would have been the envy of any women in my past life, and perhaps the only feature of her that remained in perfect condition.
But above all else, what stood out the most were her eyes.
Emerald-green eyes, marked by dark circles and sadness born from hardship—yet unlike others who had suffered, her eyes still held hope.
They still held optimism.
They still had light in them.
Light was directed entirely at me.
Her eyes looked at me as if I were the most precious thing in existence.
As if I were her sole source of light in the world.
Eyes that, while they would have filled anyone else with happiness, they filled me only with sadness and self-loathing….
Because those eyes that were looking at me with such a light, were exactly the same eyes that the person I failed in my past life had.
The person I couldn't save.
They were the same eyes as my mother's.
"Thank you, God. Thank you for not taking son from me.
Thank you for not making me suffer the loss of someone dear once again.
Thank you for not taking my beloved Nike from me."
I heard the woman say happily, thanking God, and interrupting my thoughts.
After saying those words, she lifted me in her arms and kissed me on my right cheek.
A simple act— that perhaps due to my long deprivation of human contact, or because it reminded me of my own mother—made me cry once more.
Not loudly.
Not hysterically.
But silently, in sorrow.
Because that kiss carried the same feeling as my mother's kisses once did.
And it reminded me that even after death, I would never see her again.
That I would never be able to apologize to her.
That I would never be able to tell her how much I loved and missed her.
And thus, my first day in this world came to an end.