Chapter 5

"Are you planning to sleep here?"

I jerk upright on the bench, quickly sitting up and adjusting my clothes to look somewhat presentable. "N-no! Of course not!"

My eyes dart around, anywhere but at her face. It's strange—she's not exactly my mother, not yet anyway, but the way she's looking at me feels way too familiar. Like a mom catching her kid doing something embarrassing. Like a mom watching her childs downfall, and she's both concerned and completely out of her depth.

She leans down, her face close to mine, a puzzled smile on her lips. "Then why aren't you sleeping in your bed?"

I shift uncomfortably, forcing myself not to meet her gaze. It's surreal seeing her like this—confident, almost motherly. Not the shy, nervous girl I assumed she'd always be in high school. I almost want to laugh at the irony.

"I... uh..." I try to think of a plausible excuse, but my mind blanks. I slump back against the bench, rubbing the back of my neck. "Good question. Why am I sleeping on this bench?"

I rest my arm along the bench's back, wracking my brain for something convincing. Maybe I could say I got kicked out? No, she'd probably freak out and call the police. Or what if I said I'm a homeless high school student? No, too dramatic. She'd definitely have a million questions. Maybe I should-

My spiraling thoughts are interrupted by her voice, soft but direct. "Want to come over for a sleepover?"

I blink, caught off guard, and glance up to find her still close, her expression open and hopeful. She straightens up, crossing her arms with an innocent shrug. "I've never had a sleepover before."

She looks at me with wide, innocent eyes, her fingertip resting on her lower lip, mostly hidden by the oversized sleeves of her sweatshirt. I understand now—she's offering a sleepover to avoid pressing me about why I'm out here, clearly ready to sleep on a bench. She's speaking in a way that makes it easy to accept her offer. This is the mom I know.

I can't help but smile. "Well..." I say, standing up and grabbing my bag off the ground. "Sleepovers are pretty fun."

Her eyes light up in surprise, a delighted gasp escaping her. She clutches her bag straps tightly, her voice almost trembling. "T-that's... that's..."

I tilt my head, giving her a soft smile. "So, where's your house?"

She snaps out of her dazed state, a light cough slipping out as she turns and points ahead. "It's just over there. Not too far."

I glance in the direction she's pointing, then nod back at her. She must take this route every day to get home, which is probably how she spotted me trying to sleep here. "Lead the way, then."

She nods enthusiastically, setting off down the path, and I fall in step beside her.

This feels... surreal. I'm about to have a sleepover with my mom. Sure, there were nights as a kid when I crawled into her bed because I didn't want to sleep alone, but this feels different. Like a sleepover with a best friend, even though I can't shake the odd feeling that she's my mother at sixteen. It's strange, but there's a tiny thrill to it too.

When we reach her house, she opens the front door, and I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia that nearly stops me in my tracks. My mouth falls open as I take in the familiar surroundings. I recognize this place—my mom's childhood home. I've only been here a few times, right after my grandparents passed away. Mom hadn't planned to live so far from them, but I guess she didn't expect them to be gone before I got a chance to know them. It's barely changed from what I remember.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" she calls, stepping inside. I follow, still a little awestruck by the place. "And I brought a friend!"

She then turns to me with a smile. "You can just take your shoes off here." I nod, slipping out of my shoes and closing the door behind me.

A few seconds later, I hear footsteps approaching the entryway.

"Romy! My baby!" A woman hurries over and wraps her in a hug. "How was school?"

My heart skips as I look up and see them. The two people before me—my grandparents. Grandma... Grandpa... I've only seen their faces in a few old photos. Just three pictures that I have practically memorized because that's all there ever was. But here they are, standing right in front of me. My heart pounds as Grandma releases my mom and turns to me, her expression warm and welcoming.

"And you must be Romy's new friend!"

She takes my hand gently, guiding me further inside. "Come on, don't be shy."

I'm still a bit stunned, unable to find words. When I make eye contact with Grandpa, he gives me a soft, welcoming smile. "Hope you're hungry." He says.

Speechless, I take a moment to absorb everything. The atmosphere here is so different from outside. It feels as though I've stepped into a place I belong, surrounded by family I barely had a chance to know. I glance at Grandma and Grandpa, marveling at their warm personalities and easy affection. It stings a little—they'll never know who I truly am, the future that separates us. They only ever saw one baby picture of me. And though I was never really close to them, right now, I wish I had been.

"What's for dinner?!" my mother bursts out excitedly, her face lighting up. Grandma laughs softly, patting her head and holding her close.

"I made your favorite, soup dumplings!" She says, then turns to me with that same heartwarming smile. "And I made enough for everyone, so eat until you can't feel your tummies anymore." She giggles, her laughter light and contagious.

With a happy shout, my mom darts toward the kitchen. "Yay! Soup dumplings!"

Grandpa chuckles, watching her dash away. "A little gremlin for soup dumplings, that one."

Grandma lets out a small laugh too, then places a gentle hand on my back, guiding me forward. "Come on, dear, let's go eat some dumplings." I nod, letting her lead me into the kitchen.

As we enter, I look around, taking in every detail. Nothing has really changed in the future—furniture still in the same places, the clear cupboards filled with the sams dishes just as I remember. It's like even the smallest specks of dust stayed frozen in time.

Grandma glances down at me, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Oh, honey, you do like soup dumplings, don't you? If not, I can make something else—"

"No!" I reply quickly, then putting on a smile. "I love soup dumplings!" I take a seat across from my mother, who's already eagerly digging in. Truthfully, I've never actually tried them before, but I don't want them to think I'm picky or difficult. As I watch my mother devouring her dumplings with such childlike enthusiasm, a thought nags at me. She's never once mentioned these as her favorite food. In fact, I've never even seen her eat one.

The realization hits me, an odd mix of wonder and melancholy. There's so much about her I don't know. Sitting here, across from her younger self, feels like a chance to finally bridge that gap.

"Slow down!" Grandpa chides gently as he ladles himself a bowl. "If you eat too fast, you'll end up sick of soup dumplings!"

My mom looks up from her bowl, swallowing quickly before retorting with wide-eyed determination. "Me? Sick of soup dumplings? Never!"

Watching her, a realization dawns on me. I remember my obsession with lasagna growing up—the way I craved it every night, convinced I'd never get tired of it. Mom was always concerned I'd refuse to eat anything else. But one day, I'd overdone it and couldn't even look at lasagna without feeling queasy. That must have been what happened with her love for soup dumplings. Somewhere along the way, she outgrew it.

"Here you go, dear." Grandma sets a bowl of soup dumplings in front of me, her eyes warm. "Eat up."

I offer her a grateful smile and nod, glancing down at the bowl. They look delicious, and though I'm not the pickiest eater, I'm relieved. I wouldn't want to turn down something she made so thoughtfully.

I take my first bite, savoring the flavors.

"How is it?" Grandpa asks, leaning forward eagerly, barely giving me time to chew. I swallow a little too quickly, a small cough escaping. Grandma chuckles and pats my back. "You need to slow down too!" She says playfully, her voice tender and soothing.

For the first time in a long time, I feel completely safe and at home. We all eat together, the room filled with quiet chatter and laughter. In the future, it's just me and Mom, and she works so much that I usually just eat alone, in silence.

I also can't help but notice how different Mom is when she's at home—confident, happy, and relaxed, worlds apart from the shy, stuttering girl I saw at school. It's comforting to see how much Grandma and Grandpa love her, surrounding her with warmth.

Later, I find myself sitting in Mom's bedroom, right on her bed, wearing some spare clothes she lent me. They're soft and comfortable, slightly oversized, just the way I like. I glance around her room, which looks just as I remember from the future. Colorful posters plaster the walls, the dresser is cluttered with random knick-knacks, and a bright pink lamp sits on the nightstand. It's all so her character as a teenager. As a full adult, she's very "Beige."

My mom walks in, carrying a large, cozy blanket. "I brought you an extra blanket to sleep with."

I nod, reaching out to take it, the surreal nature of this moment washing over me. I'm about to sleep here, beside the high school version of my mother.

She walks in and slides onto the bed beside me. "It gets a little cold in my bedroom at night, so I grabbed the largest blanket we had."

I nod, settling down and wrapping the blanket around myself. It feels wonderfully cozy. Mom quickly gets up to turn off the main light, and the room plunges into a soft dimness before she flicks on the bright pink lamp. The warm glow casts a gentle light over her room, and I take in the rosy decor for the first time; I've never seen the lamp lit before, and it adds a lovely charm to the space.

"Where did you transfer from?" My mom's voice breaks the comfortable silence, catching me off guard. I hadn't prepared an answer, but there's no reason to lie. I roll over to face her, taking in her side profile as she glances over at me. "Oh... just a small town in Viael. I went to a small-town school."

She nods, a look of understanding crossing her face as her voice softens, carrying a hint of exhaustion. "Viael... never heard of it."

My eyes widen slightly at her response. Mom often told me stories about her life, particularly how she moved to Viael right after college, with Dad, both leaving their part-time jobs—to a place where no one knew them. It's strange to think that at sixteen, she hasn't even heard of the town that will hold so much significance to her later in life.

"Y-yeah... well, it really is a small town." I say awkwardly. In the future, she'll come to know that place well, but for now, I decide not to push her into recognizing it.

•

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The next morning, I'm jolted awake by the loud, irritating sound of an alarm clock. My mom instantly springs into action, turning it off before rising and stretching with a contented sigh. I groan, my hair a wild mess covering my face, desperately wishing to sink back into the comforting embrace of sleep.

"Rise and shine!" she calls out cheerfully, pulling open the curtains. The bright sunlight floods the room, and I groan even louder, burying my head deeper into the pillow. Some things never change—Mom always woke me up this way in the future. If opening the curtains didn't do the trick, she'd threaten to pour a glass of cold water on my face.

The thought jolts me upright; I have to be careful, just in case my mother has such an idea in high school.

"Good, you're awake!" she beams, turning from the window. "I'll go get your uniform from the dryer!"

With my eyes barely open, I scratch my head, a bit taken aback. "You washed my uniform?"

She giggles, stepping towards the door. "Of course silly! It was really dirty!"

I shake my head, climbing out of bed. Of course it was dirty. I can't help but marvel at how the other students keep their uniforms pristine throughout the entire day. Maybe it's just that I'm not used to wearing one.

After we get dressed, I wander into the living room where I left my bag. I spot Grandpa on the couch, engrossed in a newspaper. "Don't get into trouble at school." He advises without looking up, his voice calm and steady. I pause, slightly confused. "Huh?"

Grandma emerges from the kitchen, handing grandpa a steaming hot cup of tea as she chuckles. "Yeah, Romy told us all about it."

I pause for a moment, confusion washing over me until I remember the incident they're referring to—when I stood up for my mom and yanked out a few strands of those girls' hair. A surge of anxiety rushes through me as I recall that my detention starts today, and I still have to participate in that lame talent show.

Grandma gently pats my shoulder. "We appreciate you helping our daughter... but your safety and future are important too."

I already know my future is secure, considering I don't actually live in this timeline. Yet I can't bring myself to agree with them. That was my mom who needed help. How could I just stand by and watch?

"Thank you." I respond, my voice calm but firm. "But I prefer to stand up for my friends." Both of them look at me with stunned expressions before exchanging glances with each other. I grab my bag and add, "Now, I'll get going."

I offer them one last smile before heading to the front door to put on my shoes.

"That girl, is something else, I tell you." I hear Grandma mutter from the living room, amusement threading her tone. "You are so right, my dear." Grandpa replies.

I chuckle softly as I step outside to find my mom waiting for me. "What took you so long?" she asks, glancing at me with curiosity. I shake my head, trying to dismiss the minor hassle. "Nothing. These shoes are just a pain to put on." I glance down at my shoes, and she nods in understanding. "Oh, okay." Then, without warning, she runs up ahead. "Come on now, before we're late!"

Her eagerness makes me laugh, and I hurry to catch up with her. We stroll along the short path to school, exchanging small talk—nothing too heavy.

As we arrive at the entry gates, I suddenly hear the roar of a loud engine approaching. It catches me off guard, and before I can react, a motorcycle speeds past, stopping right in front of me. I stumble back from the sudden impact, coughing as dust rises around me. I glance at my mom, bewildered. "Students can drive motorcycles here?"

She doesn't answer, instead averting her gaze slightly. A murmur of chatter starts to ripple through the crowd gathering around.

I look up just in time to see the rider dismount the bike, and my breath catches in my throat. Surrounded by a throng of chattering girls, the figure slowly removes their helmet. My heart races as I gasp in recognition.

Jake Lee.

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