Episode One

The frantic, relentless drumming of the heart monitor BEEP-BEEP-BEEP was the only boundary keeping Genesis tethered to the waking world. She was fifteen years old, Days after a brutal car accident, remained unresponsive. Her mind was trapped in a cage of flesh and bone. Her frail form connected to life by a tangle of tubes and wires that fed her medicine and nutrients. Every sensation was dulled by the thick cotton bandages swathing her skull yet unexpectedly amplified by the sheer terror of her circumstance.

The room had settled into a solemn atmosphere. The air smelled constantly of harsh disinfectant and antiseptic wipes, a clinical scent that offered no comfort. Tubes, wires, and the metronome-like whoosh-hiss of the respiratory machine were the endless, terrifying companions of her traumatic brain injury. She could feel the rough, heavy linen of the hospital sheets pressing down on her skin, and beneath that, the subtle, agonizing throb behind her eyes, a silent acknowledgment that perhaps the damage had been done.

Her parents, Sarah, and David Collins, sat watchfully by her side, their faces reflecting the weight of worry and fatigue accumulated over days of waiting. Sarah sat close enough that Genesis could feel her warmth, but the distance felt infinite. She heard Sarah’s frequent, choked sobs, quickly muffled into a tissue. She felt the faint, rhythmic squeeze of her father, David’s, comforting hand on hers. They were right there, yet they felt a thousand miles away.

The brutal car accident had dealt the family a devastating blow, leaving Genesis in a coma with severe head trauma. The news was overwhelming, instantly spiraling her parents into a void of fear and uncertainty. Yet, despite the grim prognosis, a glimmer of hope persisted. Dr. Patel and his team remained cautiously optimistic about her chances of awakening, a belief that continued to fuel her parents' prayers and their enduring hope for their daughter's full recovery.

Days bled into weeks. The initial shock gave way to a weary, heavy routine. Sarah and David took turns at the bedside, leaving only for short, mandatory breaks to shower or grab a quick, tasteless meal. They communicated in hushed tones, the simple question, "Any change?" passing between them with every shift change. They learned the names of the night nurses, memorized the tiny fluctuations on the monitor screen, and began to treat the sterile hospital room not as a temporary place, but as a second home. The hope was still there, but it was now threaded with the heavy, brittle thread of exhaustion and the constant, silent battle against despair.

"Your daughter suffered a significant impact to her head that resulted in traumatic brain injury,” Dr. Patel explained gently.

“She’s stable for now, but we need to monitor her closely. It's crucial that we give her brain time to heal."

Sarah nodded, tears welling as she fought to contain her anxiety. David simply squeezed her hand, offering silent, steady support. Despite the doctor's reassurances, the days stretched on with no change in Genesis's condition. The machines maintained their steady, tireless rhythm, a constant, clinical reminder of her fragile state.

In her total state of immobility, Genesis was acutely aware of everything happening around her. She struggled against the darkness, desperate to force her eyes open and see her mother. She listened to the hushed conversations of the medical staff, the tap of footsteps moving down the hall, and the soft, earnest words of family and friends who came to visit.

The most vital sounds were those of her parents. Her father's soothing tones comforted her as he reassured her mother, but the air was heavy with her mother's stifled sobs and the fervent, whispered prayers that hung in the room. Every sound, no matter how faint, was a lifeline connecting her to the world outside her temporary isolation, a world she ached to reenter.

**********

Inside Genesis's mind, a completely different story was unfolding. As her body lay motionless, a strange, sweet sensation washed over her. It began as a gentle pull, a quiet whisper deep in the darkness. She felt weightless, completely untethered, like a feather floating in a huge, airy space. Around her, vibrant colors merged and shifted in slow motion, colors that did not exist in the normal world.

The sounds of the beeping machines, the whoosh of the respirator, her mother’s anxious voice, all faded away and replaced by an absolute quietness. Genesis found herself in a surreal dreamscape, a place where time itself seemed to unfold slowly, without end. Despite the strange power of the experience, she remained calm watching it all unfold. In the depths of this subconscious state, the fifteen-year-old's comatose mind began a long, solitary journey away from the sterile hospital room and toward her past. There, her memories began to stir like leaves rustling in a gentle wind.

She did not feel fear, which was perhaps the most frightening thing of all. Instead, she felt a profound, chilling calmness. e strange, complete relief of being finally, blissfully free from the iron weight of her paralyzed body. The agonizing throbbing pain in her skull was gone, replaced by a crystalline silence. Her comatose mind, the mind of a fifteen-year-old girl fighting for survival, began to wander through this newly discovered internal architecture.

************

The transition was seamless and fast, though not smooth. It was like walking into a dream she’d completely forgotten. She felt the familiar rush of excitement and new discovery. The colors instantly slammed together, memories flooded back all at once, overwhelming her. Genesis gasped, her own breath sounding loud and shaky, as the strange light snapped into the bright, sharp sunlight hitting the sidewalk. At first, there were only small flashes: a picture of a university campus, the sound of laughter, and the warm sun on her skin. Then, a switch flipped. She was suddenly there. She was a 25-year-old woman on the grounds of Nova Terra University, surrounded by the sights and sounds of a bygone era.

She was whole. She could stand and move, and the feeling was completely terrifying. Her hand flew up to her head. There were no thick bandages. Only the familiar feel of her own hair. This small, important detail felt the most unreal.

She stumbled slightly on the curb of a paved walkway. The heavy books in her arms felt strange and weighed her down. She looked down at her hands, they were thin and powerful, with clear joints and the first signs of getting older. They were many years older than the small, hurt hands strapped to the hospital bed. Her body moved with a smooth, sure confidence as she slowly walked on the busy area of Nova Terra University.

The familiar sights around her gave her a strange comfort in the middle of her confusion. She felt like she belonged there. She was no longer a teenager in a coma, but a lively young woman who was excited about finishing college soon.

She reached into her bag for her small mirror to check her face. Her heart leapt, and a feeling of déjà vu washed over her when she saw the detailed design on the cover. It was exactly the same as the small mirror she currently owned and cherished in her fifteen-year-old life prior to the accident.

She had gotten it while shopping with her mother, Sarah, at a large outdoor market when she was ten years old. She remembered feeling drawn to that mirror the second she saw it. She asked her mother if she could have it, and Sarah agreed immediately.

Holding it now, she felt a mix of sweet sadness and deep yearning, a sharp reminder of the strange, dream-like life she was in. This discovery brought up a strong feeling inside her, mixing sadness for her sleeping self with the hope that maybe, in some way, she was still linked to the world she knew.

She lifted it and stared at her reflection, memorizing the differences. Piercing green eyes were framed by thick, wire-rimmed glasses that felt clumsy and old-fashioned compared to the sleek, trendy frames she preferred. The slight, almost imperceptible rounding of the jawline spoke of a decade of change. Her hair, the same long, black curls that were her defining trait, were currently tied back in a careless, tight ponytail.

Her hand moved without consulting her mind. In one quick motion, she ripped out the hair band, let her heavy curls fall, and then instantly scooped them up again. Her fingers performed a complex twist she didn't know she knew, and a smooth ponytail snapped into place.

The perfect reality of that simple action was chilling. The exact feeling of her hair's weight, the way her hands moved without any thoughts, proved a life had been lived. Her body was running on a memory she hadn't made yet. When exactly, she wondered, did this version of me exist?

The sun felt warm on her skin, and the air was alive with the excitement of graduation.

She was wearing a clean white shirt and a pair of old, comfortable jeans. Her arms held a stack of books against her chest. Genesis walked across the familiar campus quad, where students lay on the grass. Their laughter and talk made a noise like a song of young energy.

She walked past the old oak tree where she had spent many hours studying. Its low branches offered a comforting shadow. The smell of freshly cut grass and a light scent of coffee from the nearby shop filled her nose, making her feel completely real in this vivid memory.

With every step toward the grand main hall entrance, a flood of strong feelings rushed through her. She was filled with pride and excitement about graduating and finding her place in the world after school. What was once a faraway dream now felt close enough to touch. She also recalled the countless late nights studying with her best friend, Leedya, and the deep sense of triumph that came from finishing her work.

She reached an empty classroom. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, making golden shapes on the floor. She placed her stack of books on the desk where she often sat and picked up her old journal from the top.

Flipping through the pages, she saw her own handwriting. The ink was a little faded, but the words were still easy to read. Every entry was a clear view into her past thoughts, dreams, and hopes.

Later, she walked confidently across the campus parking lot. Her independence was clear: she lived off campus, a choice made possible by the sleek BMW her parents gave her when she started college. This car was her easy way to and from school.

She arrived at her apartment, which was filled with books, notes, and drawings. The walls were decorated with posters of inspiring quotes and art, showing her varied and creative taste. She dropped the journal onto the living room table and relaxed on the sofa. She adjusted her glasses and smiled to herself as she organized her thoughts, getting ready for life after graduation.

She thought about her future, and the memory of her last class played in her mind. It was an engaging lecture where the professor talked about the pros and cons of working for yourself versus corporate stability. Since it was her final lecture, Genesis was deeply invested in absorbing every idea, knowing she was at a pivotal crossroads.

The apartment's quiet peace snapped when her eyes caught a framed photo. It showed a happy, twenty-one-year-old Genesis with her parents, but a small, black ribbon pinned to the frame instantly erased the smile. The sight triggered a sickening wave of grief that ripped through her chest. It was a pain too huge to belong to her, but the doubt was chilling: Was this agony actually hers? Had the 25-year-old version of herself already lived through this loss she had yet to remember. And she, the one who just arrived, simply forgot the trauma? The beautiful future she imagined was instantly dissolved; replaced by the crushing weight of an unknown sorrow.

The grief over the photograph instantly vanished, replaced by a terrifying flash of white light and a metallic scream. Suddenly, she was no longer in the peaceful apartment. She was seeing her fifteen-year-old self, getting into a yellow cab. Then came the screech of metal as a huge truck running a stoplight, slammed into the taxi. Paramedics swarmed the scene in a dizzying blur. The memory was so fresh and horrible that the crash seemed to be happening again, right in front of her. Her body felt the full impact, forcing her to confront the absolute truth: that her life was still hanging in the balance back in that silent hospital room.

With chilling clarity, Genesis realized this dreamscape was not a simple memory, but a bridge. It was a psychological tool, built from her deepest fears and desires, meant to give her the strength to wake up and heal. She was only fifteen, fighting for her life by reliving a past she didn't consciously remember. She was here not to observe, but to learn and survive.

As the final, terrifying realization settled, the phone on the coffee table vibrated violently. The loud, demanding ringing shattered the silence of the apartment. She stared down at the phone, feeling certain it was Leedya.

 **********

The Loud ringing of the phone instantly aborted the psychological regression triggered by the photograph, allowing Genesis to regain her composure and overturn the image on the table. Still, the memory of the profound, unearned grief she had experienced just prior remained a source of deep emotional conflict.

Having emerged into consciousness at age twenty-five, she possessed no autobiographical memory of her life before. As she prepared for graduation, the absence of her parents was an inexplicable void. Instinctively, she understood that the photograph was the focal point of her repressed experience.

A few hours later, as the evening settled, a profound internal urge overwhelmed her discomfort. She retrieved the photograph, and as her gaze focused on the smiling figures, a flow of memory began to form. Forcibly integrating the traumatic data of what happened to her parents.

It was a year earlier, on the eve of her 24th birthday. She was back in her bed sleeping. She had gone to bed early planning to surprise her parents by picking them up at the airport the next morning. Her parents were returning for vacation to celebrate her birthday. That entire year had dissolved into a blur of raw sorrow and sudden, heavy responsibilities. The phone rang in the middle of the night, shattering the peaceful quiet of her sleep. A voice laced with professional sorrow spoke.

“I am sorry to wake you up miss. Are you the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Collins?”

“Yes sir. My name is Genesis Collins. Is there a problem?”

The words that followed instantly destroyed her reality. Returning from their Venetian getaway, their plane had crashed, leaving no survivors. The news ravaged her soul, plunging her into an abyss of unrelenting pain. Sleep abandoned her, replaced by constant torment as grief threatened to annihilate her very existence.

The Burden of Bureaucracy

In the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, Genesis’s every waking moment was consumed by a bewildering entanglement of bureaucratic tasks, legal consultations, and the crushing responsibility of arranging a funeral. As she mechanically went through the motions, her emotions remained frozen, unable to fully register the unfortunate reality of her parents' death.

After long, arduous months of back-and-forth negotiations with the airline company, she found guidance in her brilliant friend, Leedya, who studied corporate law. Leedya's help allowed Genesis to navigate the lengthy, demanding methods of securing compensation.

Genesis sat stiffly in the office of the airline’s legal team. The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of old paper and polished wood, and the walls were lined with rows of thick, leather-bound volumes. The cumulative stress of the past months weighed heavily on her. Her grip on the armrests was tense, her knuckles pale as she struggled to maintain her poise.

The lawyer, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a sympathetic expression, slid an envelope across the desk toward her. “Miss Collins, we deeply regret the loss of your parents in the tragic accident. This compensation is a token of our responsibility and our deepest condolences. We hope it can provide some support during this tough time.”

**********

Genesis simply stared at the envelope, unmoving. The thick white paper felt obscene, a physical symbol of the irrevocable price paid for her grief. It was too little and too much all at once. Her eyes, magnified behind her glasses, lifted to meet the lawyer's gaze, but they were void of any reaction.

She didn't reach for the envelope. Instead, a single thought, cold and sharp, cut through her numbness: This money can pay for my tuition, pay for the house, pay for the car... but it can’t bring them back.

The lawyer shifted uncomfortably, recognizing the complete detachment in her eyes. "Miss Collins, is there anything else you require today? We hope this brings some finality to the legal process."

Finality, The word echoed hollowly in the quiet room. There was no finality, only an empty apartment and a future she had to build alone. Slowly, deliberately, Genesis extended one thin, powerful hand and placed it on the envelope.

The Transaction

Genesis continued to stare at the envelope, the final number already etched in her mind. It was the sum she had reluctantly agreed upon. Her heart ached at the lawyer's sympathetic words, yet she took a deep, steadying breath and picked up the envelope. Her hands trembled slightly as she carefully opened it, retrieving the compensation check and the formal letter of apology. The monetary figure was staggering, a sharp, material reminder of the immensity of her loss.

After a few tense moments, she gathered her composure and looked up at the lawyer. "Thank you," she managed quietly, her voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos churning inside.

The lawyer nodded, his expression conveying a sincere sense of empathy. "Take care of yourself Miss Collins. And remember, we are here if you require anything."

What a load of bull, she thought with a cold edge of bitterness, but she offered no verbal response. She was acutely aware that without Leedya's skillful negotiation on her behalf, this substantial amount would have remained unattainable. She clutched the envelope tightly as she left the polished office and stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight. The warmth on her skin felt foreign. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to take a deep breath.

The compensation was not a replacement; it was simply a means to a new beginning, a chance to build a life that would honor her parents’ memory. she opened her eyes, tucked the check safely into her bag, then automatically reached for her small mirror. Satisfied with the image she presented, a young woman of poise and control. She had to become resilient. Now, more than ever, she was compelled to summon that strength to face her final year at Nova Terra University.

In that terrible instance, as the trauma of the airline crash solidified , Genesis now understood the chilling truth of the black ribbon photograph: her dreamscape parents were dead, she was alone. The pain had been so absolute that the memory of the loss had leaked across the timeline. It dawned on her that both sets of parents carried the same names, David and Sarah Collins, yet looked nothing alike. While saddened by the loss, she was simultaneously hopeful knowing her real parents were waiting for her on the other side of the coma.

It’s been six months since graduation. Feeling revitalized, Genesis was prepared to hurl herself into the next chapter of her life, a path she had meticulously planned during her six-month hiatus from the chaos of University life. That period was essential, a time dedicated entirely to proactive self-management. Finally, dealing with the loss of her parents. During that time, Genesis spent a month volunteering at an animal shelter, confronting raw, complicated grief and offering solace where she could. She also spent time teaching art at a retirement home, forging deep, and meaningful connections.

However, the most transformative experience for both her and Leedya was their extensive boundary-pushing vacation across the vast complex expense of India. Their adventure began in Delhi, a city of jarring contrasts. The sheer difference between the ancient, stoic Red Fort and the intense, modern capital immediately seized their attention.

The massive Chandni Chowk market was a sensory overload. Genesis was completely absorbed by the vibrant atmosphere and sheer chaos. Leedya, more focused, dedicated her energy to acquiring textiles and striking jewelry.

Their exploration was defined by food choices: Genesis was instantly drawn to the bold, savory complexity of the street chaat, embracing the local cuisine. Leedya, conversely, favored the comforting density of the samosas, finding the hyper-sweet jalebis overwhelming to her palate.

In Agra, the sunrise over the Taj Mahal was an emotional highlight, leaving both women  breathless with historical awe. Their culinary preferences continued to diverge over traditional Rajasthani dishes; Genesis appreciated the substantial complexity of the dal baati churma, while Leedya found the unusual texture of the gatte ki sabzi challenging.

The serene backwaters of Kerala offered a necessary, tranquil contrast. Staying on a houseboat, their palates completely aligned over the fresh seafood and regional cuisine. The prawn curry quickly became a shared favorite. Genesis especially relished the subtle tang of the appam combined with the rich, creamy density of the coconut stew.

In Munnar's tea gardens, Leedya, a self-proclaimed connoisseur, expressed delight in the complex production process and the varied tastings. Both women finished the experience with a new shared appreciation for green tea. Even in Goa, their personalities dictated their preference: Genesis loved the fiery spice of the prawn balchão, while both enjoyed the decadent, layered dessert, bebinca.

The journey ultimately concluded in the spiritual intensity of Varanasi. A tranquil dawn boat ride on the Ganges and the Ganga Aarti ceremony instilled on both them with a deep, lasting sense of peace.

The trip functioned as a crucial foundation, built on resilient friendship and cultural discovery. Despite their inherent differences, the journey definitively solidified the bond that would define the rest of their Lives."

*******

Looking back, Genesis and Leedya unequivocally agreed: the trip to India had been truly transformative. Remarkably, the culinary adventure, despite their wildly different preferences; added an unexpectedly rich and flavorful dimension to the entire experience. It was more than mere sightseeing; it built unforgettable memories and dramatically strengthened them as human beings.

“We didn't just see India, Leedya," Genesis said, running a finger over a small, intricately carved wooden souvenir from Delhi. "We tasted it. We felt the chaos, the quietness, the spice, the serenity. Most people only scratch the surface of travel, moving from one polished destination to the next."

Leedya, meticulously organizing the hundreds of photographs they had taken, snapped her head up. "Right. They see the postcard, not the life. That's the difference, G. That's the gap." Her eyes, sharp and analytical, met Genesis's.

"The gap," Genesis repeated, her voice dropping, suddenly filled with the familiar, decisive tone "We didn't just consume the culture; we integrated it. We were looking for something profound, something real, something limitless."

They weren't just travelers; they were architects of their own adventure. They had successfully navigated the labyrinthine logistics of a country determined to defy easy planning. They had tracked down obscure, centuries-old textile workshops based on faint rumors and found breathtaking, hidden trails that weren't printed in any guidebook.

Despite their wildly differing tastes, they found common ground in the quiet moments.  . Their culinary adventure added an unexpectedly rich and flavorful dimension to their entire experience. Genesis preferred street food vendors while Leedya insisted on high-end dining. It was this constant negotiation, this blend of Genesis’s spontaneity and Leedya’s meticulous planning, that had made the journey truly theirs.

The world snapped back into place when their vacation ended. A nagging uncertainty began to infiltrate Genesis's thoughts, and the corporate job offers she had received felt suffocating, compared to the technicolor freedom she had cultivated during her gap months. These roles, while prestigious and secure, felt like a sharp, painful contrast from the vibrant independence and profound discovery she had just experienced.

Meanwhile, Leedya, her pragmatic counterpart, prepared to start her dream job at a highly prestigious corporate law firm in the city. Her life was charting a steady, predictable course toward financial security and professional dominance.

Genesis felt the divergence of their paths with increasing panic. She held a degree in business management and marketing, yet the thought of using it to sell spreadsheets felt like a betrayal of her own spirit.

She was pacing inside her luxury apartment, three thick corporate offer letters ignored on her desk like bad omens, when an idea ignited in her mind. It was a fusion of all the joy, all the challenge, and all the success of their travels.

“Global Getaways,” Genesis blurted out to her best friend over the phone, the words functioning as a desperate lifeline.

“Okay, I'm packing. Where are we going this time?” Leedya responded with a laugh, half-joking yet genuinely intrigued. After months of globe-trotting with Genesis, a spontaneous trip was always a tangible possibility.

“No, Leedya, this isn't another trip, although I'd love to go somewhere. This is different. I'm declining the corporate offers. I've decided to establish my own business, utilizing everything we learned and experienced.” Genesis explained. Her voice suddenly brimmed with a high-voltage excitement that entirely obscured her anxiety.

“Okay, you want to call it Global Getaways? Elaborate, please. And tell me you haven’t gone completely mad, refusing those offers.” Curious, Leedya knew Genesis well enough to recognize the sound of an inevitable, magnificent scheme taking root.

“It’s the name of our company,” Genesis declared, the concept suddenly solid and real as she spoke it aloud. “The primary query after India wasn't the cost or duration, but the logistical planning. People are overwhelmed by cultural barriers and the complex planning. But we made it effortless.”

Genesis stopped pacing, her high energy now focused intently on the phone line. “I’m establishing a luxury travel agency, specializing in highly customized, immersive international experiences. No generic package tours, just intensely personalized adventures for clients who seek transformation but lack the time to engineer the journey themselves.”

Silence stretched across the line, covered with Leedya's calculated assessment.

“The concept is sound, G. It has market viability; affluent clients consistently pay for exclusivity and painless access,” Leedya stated, her voice sharp and professional. "But let's address the reality. This is a high-risk startup. Where is the seed capital coming from? We need significant operational funding and to cover the inherent liability of off-grid travel."

“Remember thanks to you I received a large sum from the airline compensation.”

“That sounds incredible, Gen! But there are so many travel agencies out there, especially for luxury clients. What’s going to make Global Getaways stand out?” Leedya probed, always the one to find the structural flaw.

“Forget ‘so many travel agencies,’ Leedya. We're not selling mass-market package deals; we're selling transformation,” Genesis shot back, her voice crackling with conviction. “Our competition is the stress of planning a world-class trip and the disappointment of a superficial experience. Big agencies push clients into safe, tired routes where they merely observe the culture. Global Getaways clients will live it.”

“We’ll focus on unique, off-the-beaten-path adventures. We’ll offer comprehensive and personalized services to craft unforgettable journeys, and we’ll collaborate with highly vetted local guides to ensure authentic experiences no guidebook can provide. We can offer themed explorations, like culinary tours, historical research, and cultural immersions. Remember finding that private cooking class in a family home in Chennai? We can bring that kind of experience to others,” Genesis explained, laying out the skeleton of her vision.

"Gen, your pitch is structurally sound, and your differentiation is clear: you're selling integration, not observation," Leedya conceded, her tone now less dismissive and more strategically focused. "The market demands this level of bespoke curation. But authenticity is a liability hazard. Highly vetted guides require unbreakable contracts, and 'off-the-beaten-path' means high-risk insurance premiums. This demands legal insulation, not just a catchy name."

“‘Global Getaways’ is short, punchy, and tells you exactly what we offer,” she finished. “I'm taking the terrifying leap Dya. We’re building this.”

“I know.” Her voice hardened with the return of her corporate persona, no longer questioning the idea, but demanding control over the execution. "Ok, you handle the visionary complexity of Global Getaway, the cultural immersions, the private chefs, the bespoke adventure. That is your genius. But the legal framework is mine. You will not touch the contracts. You will not speak to the insurers. I will build the corporate shell that shields your vision from catastrophe."

Genesis smiled. "That's why you're not taking that corporate job, Leedya. From today, you are officially the legal architect of Global Getaways. We have enough money from the airline compensation, the money from selling the house, oh and my trust fund. I am twenty-five now so it’s clear for me to do whatever I want. So, we have more than enough to establish the initial operating capital. You structure the company, you write the contracts, and you ensure we are impervious to liability. I create the experiences. We are equal partners, and we define our own dominance."

End of Chapter