Fate Rewritten

The stillness of the frozen world had settled into a familiar weight, one that Ramses had grown accustomed to over time. The quiet was no longer the unbearable void it had once been. Instead, it had become a companion, one that allowed him to think deeply and reflect on the things that mattered most. And recently, his thoughts had often wandered back to his family.

It had been a long time since he had seen them—since the world had changed. He didn't know if they were even alive, if time would ever start moving again. He didn't know whether they were frozen in the same way everyone else was, or if their lives had simply ended while the world stood still. But what he did know, more acutely than ever, was how much he missed them.

Sitting by the fountain, the world around him just as lifeless and frozen as it had been since the stillness began, Ramses closed his eyes and thought back to his childhood. He could hear his mother's voice in his head, soft yet strong, a comforting presence in his memories. Her laughter, the way she would sit him down after a hard day at school and encourage him to talk about what troubled him, was so vivid in his mind that it almost felt as though she were right beside him.

Then there was his father, who had always been the quiet but solid foundation in his life. His father's advice was rarely spoken, but Ramses had always known that his father's love came through in the smallest, most subtle ways—the way he'd fix things around the house without asking, or how he'd bring Ramses his favorite snack when he'd been feeling down. The man had a quiet wisdom that Ramses, at the time, hadn't fully appreciated, but now, as he sat alone in this frozen world, those memories came rushing back like a flood.

And of course, there was his younger sister, Lily, always full of energy, always ready with a joke or a smile to lighten the mood. She was the one who would drag him out of his shell when he got too lost in his thoughts. It wasn't until now, in the stillness, that he realized how much he had taken her companionship for granted. How many times had he brushed aside her attempts to engage with him, too caught up in his own world to notice hers?

He let out a soft sigh, the weight of regret settling in his chest once more. He'd been so caught up in his own struggles that he hadn't fully appreciated what his family had meant to him. Now, with nothing but time on his hands, he couldn't help but wonder: what would they say if they were here now? How would they see him, in this moment of quiet growth?

Ramses opened his eyes and glanced around the frozen square. It was eerily silent. Not a sound in the air. No wind, no movement, just the hollow echo of his own thoughts. It was in this silence that he realized something—he wasn't just missing them because of the absence of their physical presence, but because he had never truly understood how integral they had been to his development. How their words, their actions, had shaped him into the person he had been before the world had stopped.

His thoughts returned to the last conversation he'd had with his mother before everything changed. It had been a simple conversation—he had been telling her about his struggles at work, about the pressure he was feeling to succeed. His mother had listened intently, as she always did, and then offered her usual calm advice.

"You don't have to have it all figured out, Ramses," she had said with a gentle smile. "Life is a journey. It's okay to not know where you're going. You just have to keep moving forward. That's all you can do."

At the time, he hadn't taken her words seriously. It had sounded too simplistic, too easy. But now, with everything in front of him and nothing else to focus on, those words felt like a revelation. It's okay to not know where you're going. You just have to keep moving forward.

How many times had he let his fear of failure paralyze him? How many times had he pushed his family away, too afraid to ask for help or share his struggles, believing he had to figure everything out on his own? Now, in this frozen world, he could see clearly how misguided he had been.

His father's quiet wisdom echoed in his thoughts. He could almost hear his father's voice, calm and steady, urging him to slow down, to stop rushing through life, to be present. It wasn't until now, in the stillness of time, that he realized how much his father's presence had grounded him. It wasn't just about what his father said—it was about the example he set. His father was a man who found peace in simplicity, who took pride in small things and never seemed to rush toward anything. Ramses had always admired that in him, but he had never fully understood it. Until now.

Then there was Lily. Her energy, her zest for life—it had always been something he took for granted. Her jokes, her laughter, even her playful teasing had been a constant source of light in his life. Now, as he sat alone, he could feel the absence of her playful spirit. He could feel how her laughter had filled the empty spaces in his heart, spaces he hadn't even known existed.

He remembered how, during their family's vacations, Lily had always insisted on taking pictures of everything—her excitement about every moment, capturing memories for posterity. Ramses had often rolled his eyes, thinking her obsession with pictures was silly, but now, he realized that she had been doing something important. She had been preserving memories, cherishing moments, and making sure that even the smallest things in life were remembered.

Ramses smiled softly to himself. If only I had known how important these moments were.

He could almost imagine what they would say to him now. If they could see him now—would they be proud? Would they see the man he was becoming, the one who was learning to accept his flaws, his imperfections? The one who was learning that progress didn't always have to be linear, that growth came in fits and starts, but it still counted?

He closed his eyes again, letting the images of his family flood his mind. He could almost hear his mother's soothing voice telling him to stop being so hard on himself, to give himself credit for how far he'd come. He could see his father's quiet nod of approval, the silent support that had always been there, even when they didn't talk about it. And Lily—her infectious laugh, her ability to find joy in the smallest of things.

I've spent so much of my life running from myself. But if they could see me now, they'd see that I'm finally learning to be who they always believed I could be.

Ramses stood up, feeling the coolness of the air brush against his skin. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since the world had frozen, but it didn't matter anymore. Time, he realized, wasn't something that could be controlled. It wasn't something that could be rushed. It was something to be lived in, something to be felt. And in this moment, he could feel the presence of his family within him—guiding him, supporting him, even if they weren't physically there.

He whispered to the empty air, the words slipping from his lips like a prayer. "I hope you're proud of me."

He didn't know if anyone could hear him, or if anyone ever would. But somehow, the act of saying it out loud made him feel closer to them. As if their love, their presence, was still with him, even in the stillness of time.

The world around him might have been frozen, but within him, there was movement. There was growth. There was love. And he knew, deep down, that he wasn't alone.

He was part of something bigger—something that stretched far beyond this frozen moment in time.