The rain had been falling since the afternoon in Rotterdam. By the time Aiden left the store, the streets were slick and empty. He pulled his jacket tighter and kept his phone in his pocket, music off, screen dark.
It was already past ten. The lamps along the main road gave off a weak yellow glow that barely reached the sidewalk. Cars hissed by every few minutes, tires cutting through puddles. He took the long way home, the one that passed under the bridge. It was quieter there.
He didn't notice the van until it passed him the first time. White, no markings, headlights a bit too bright. It slowed near the intersection ahead, turned left, and disappeared behind the row of houses.
Aiden kept walking, hands in his pockets. His shoes soaked through within a few steps, each one making a dull sound on the pavement. He looked up once and saw the reflection of a neon sign flickering in a puddle.
He had spent most of the evening with a few friends at the arcade. It was supposed to be an easy Friday. They had talked about plans, about how everyone else seemed to know what they wanted to do after graduation. He didn't.
He wasn't bad at school, just... ordinary. No goals, no hobbies that lasted. Sometimes he wondered if that was how the rest of his life would look quiet, predictable, easy to forget.
A car horn broke the thought. Aiden turned his head just in time to see the same white van coming from the other side, headlights flaring against the rain.
The road was narrow. The van drifted slightly toward the sidewalk. He stepped aside, but his foot slipped on the wet curb. His shoulder hit a metal signpost, the impact sharp and quick.
The driver must have seen him, because the van swerved hard. The tires screamed. For a second Aiden thought it would stop, but the road was too wet.
The sound that followed wasn't loud. More like a deep thud that echoed through the rain.
He hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him. His vision blurred with water and light. The van skidded to a stop a few meters away. The door opened, and someone shouted something, but the words didn't make sense.
The rain hit his face, cold and steady. He tried to breathe but couldn't. Every sound stretched out, slower and slower the wipers, the engine, footsteps splashing closer.
He blinked once more, but the streetlight above him was already fading. The noise of the rain softened until it was gone.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then there was no road, no cold, no sound. Only quiet white light, and the sense that someone else was there, waiting.
The white light was steady, neither bright nor dim. It felt like standing inside a cloud. There was no sound except his own breathing, which came slow and even, as if his body had forgotten what had just happened.
A figure appeared a few meters ahead. A man, maybe in his forties, simple clothes, hands in his pockets. He looked more like someone waiting for a bus than whatever Aiden thought death might be.
Aiden spoke first. "Am I dead?"
The man nodded once. "Yes."
Aiden looked around. "So this is it?"
"For most people, yes."
He frowned. "But not for me?"
The man watched him quietly before answering. "You're being given a chance. Not because you were special. Because you never really lived the way you wanted."
"I didn't even know what I wanted," Aiden said.
"That's why you're here."
Aiden let out a shaky breath. "You're saying I get another life?"
"Something like that," the man said. "A different world, similar to the one you knew. You'll wake up younger, before everything started to blur together. You won't have a system, no power to rely on. But you will have something most people don't."
"What?"
"Knowledge," the man said simply. "The understanding of sound, rhythm, harmony, and how they move people. You'll be able to create music in any form, play any instrument, produce anything you imagine."
Aiden blinked. "Music? But I never"
"I know," the man said. "That's the point. You never tried. You spent your whole life thinking you were average. This time, you'll know what it feels like to create something that matters."
"Why me?"
The man looked at him for a long moment. "Because you cared about life but never learned to live it. Maybe this will fix that. Maybe not."
Aiden hesitated. "And if I fail again?"
"Then it ends," the man said. "No more second chances."
Aiden looked down. The floor wasn't solid, but it held him anyway. "What do I have to do?"
"Just live," the man said. "Follow what feels right. You'll wake up soon. The rest is up to you."
The light around them started to shift, faint shadows forming like the edge of a dream.
Aiden took one last breath. "Will I remember this?"
"Only what you need to," the man said.
The brightness grew stronger until it swallowed everything.
Aiden sat up fast.
His breathing was heavy, sharp, like he had just run a marathon.
He looked around the room, eyes wide.
"Where am I?" he said out loud. "What did that guy even say? And why does my body feel so different?"
He looked at his hands. They were thin, younger.
His pulse was racing.
Nothing made sense.
He got out of bed too fast, almost tripping.
The room wasn't his. There were posters on the wall, books on a small desk, a computer that looked ten years old.
He turned in a full circle. His heart kept hammering.
Then it hit him a sudden pain in his head, like his thoughts were crashing into each other.
"Urghh… what is happening?" he said, pressing his palms against his head.
Images started flashing in his mind.
A classroom. Faces. Voices.
People he didn't know but somehow remembered.
He dropped to his knees, trying to breathe through it.
Memories that weren't his filled his mind, mixing with his own.
It felt wrong, heavy, too much.
After a minute, the pain started to fade.
His breathing slowed. The noise in his head went quiet, but the confusion stayed.
He sat there for a while, just trying to think.
The memories didn't feel like his, but they were clear.
Parents. A house. A school.
And a city name that somehow felt familiar.
Utrecht.
He looked up at the mirror across the room.
A sixteen-year-old stared back.
Younger. Different.
He whispered, "What the hell is going on?