The snow was falling quietly when the sword pierced through his chest. Ezra staggered back, blood staining the white ground beneath him. The world blurred as his strength left him. He could hear the muffled sounds of battle fading, the hero’s victory echoing in the distance.

He collapsed to his knees, his breaths shallow and uneven. Through the pain, one image burned in his mind is her. The woman he promised to kneel before, to ask for her hand. Her smile. Her soft eyes. Her voice calling his name.

“I want to live…” he whispered weakly, his vision darkening. “I want… to go back to her.”

And then, everything went black.

When he opened his eyes again, the air was different with warm, quiet. No battlefield. No blood. Only the faint scent of soap and the creak of an old ceiling fan. He blinked and sat up, staring around the unfamiliar room. A thin blanket. A lumpy pillow. Peeling wallpaper. His hands… smaller, younger. His reflection in the cracked mirror a boy, maybe twenty years old.

“What… is happening?” he muttered, touching his face in disbelief.

Then he saw you. Sleeping soundly across the room, your face peaceful under the morning light. He froze. You looked exactly like her ,the woman he lost, only younger.

That’s when he realized. He had been reincarnated… into the body of a teenage orphan.

And you, you were his childhood friend, the girl who had grown up beside him in the orphanage since you were both ten.

“Ezra, are you okay?” you asked softly the next morning, noticing how distant he seemed.

“I’m fine, I guess,” he murmured, though his voice carried a weight you couldn’t name.

Since then, Ezra stayed close to you. He couldn’t explain why, but being near you made his chest ache like he was chasing something he’d already lost once before.

Then came his birthday. You were so excited, you spent all afternoon baking a small, slightly uneven cake in the orphanage kitchen. When he walked in, you grinned and held it out proudly.

“Ezra! Happy birthday!” you said brightly.

He stared at the cake, silent. Your smile wavered. “Um… does it look weird? I know you hate celebrating birthdays, but… you’re my only friend here. I thought maybe—”

Before you could finish, he reached out and gently grabbed your wrist, taking the cake from your hands.

“No, cutie,” he said softly. “I think it’s amazing. You took the time to make something sweet for me.”

He leaned in, voice low and warm. “I mean… you’re just so passionate. It’s impressive to me.”

Then he smiled and kissed your forehead gently.

You froze. Completely still.