Ashley turned forty beneath strings of fairy lights and the warm hum of conversation. Her siblings, Arthur and Anthea, had organized a small party in her old apartment above the teahouse she opened – photos from different stages of her life hung along a string like faded memories caught mid-laugh. Helen, her mother, was absent – gone sixteen years now. Ryan, her father, hadn't been in her life for more than two decades. Ethan was long gone too, along with her trust in love. Yet, as she smiled through the celebration, hugging friends and dodging questions about dating and "settling down," Ashley felt something shift deep in her chest.
That night, still wearing the dress Anthea picked out, Ashley climbed into bed, looked out the window at the blinking city lights, and whispered a single wish:
I just want to try again.
Ashley woke up to the sound of her mom yelling to wake her up.
She groaned. That voice – young, full of energy, impatient. She sat up. Her hands looked smaller. The bed too small, the room too pink. The wallpaper had butterflies on it. Her heart started racing.
A mirror. She scrambled to her vanity mirror, nearly tripping over a discarded stuffed bear.
A fourteen-year-old stared back.
Panic turned into awe. A thousand memories rushed in like a dam breaking. Forty years old a heartbeat ago – and now... the first day of high school.
Ashley had been reborn.