Chapter 1: Storytelling of Past
Renae’s POV
Present Day…Year 2040
The floorboards groaned under my feet as I paced, a habit that always betrayed my nerves. What should I tell her? I whispered to the empty air.
My daughter, Araana, was waiting in the living room. At seventeen, she had a hunger for stories that never seemed satisfied. I glanced toward the doorway, caught between the comfort of old legends and the vulnerability of the truth. Should I give her a fairy tale? Or should I finally unwrap the truth of who I used to be?
I took a breath, smoothed my hair, and stepped into the light of the living room.
“Once upon a time,” I began, my voice trailing off experimentally, “there lived a—”
“Oh, no! Not that again, Mom!” Araana interrupted, her nose scrunching up in that playful, stubborn way she’d had since she was a toddler. “Please, no more ‘once upon a times.’”
I feigned a look of deep offence, pressing a hand to my chest. “What? My stories are classics! What’s wrong with them?”
“Everything!” she laughed, leaning forward. “They’re too safe. I want something real. Tell me a story about you. Tell me what it was like when you were seventeen.”
The word seventeen hit me like a physical wave. A rush of warmth—half nostalgia, half ache—bloomed in my chest. I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the reflection of a girl I used to know.
Should I? I wondered. The sweets, comedies, the bitters, and the secrets in between? I nodded slowly, more to myself than to her. It was time.
“In my day...” I started, the dates already forming behind my eyes like ink on a page. “It was the first week of September, 2015. I was exactly your age. And that is where the real story begins.”
I let the silence stretch, watching the way she curled up on the sofa, her eyes fixed on me as if I were about to hand her a treasure map.
Outside, the evening sun slanted low through the window, painting the room in honeyed gold. For a moment, the scent of the present faded, replaced by the ghost of fresh-cut grass and the humid, electric air of a summer long gone.
A faint smile touched my lips. I could see it now: the towering gates of the university, the terrifying blur of the first day, and the hint of something magical waiting just around the corner.
My voice grew steady, the threads of the past beginning to unfurl.
“It was a Tuesday,” I whispered, “and I had no idea my world was about to change...”
Renae’s Flashback to the past…25 years ago...
Year 2015, September….
The transition was instantaneous. The smell of my living room faded, replaced by the scent of expensive car leather and the humid, expectant air of a summer morning.
At seventeen, my house always felt too big. My parents were ghosts in their own lives, haunted by business meetings and social calendars that never seemed to include me.
My only anchors were Anna, my nanny—the keeper of my secrets—and Jerry. My little brother was only eight then, a sweet, nerdy boy with oversized glasses that always slid down his button nose. I missed his gap-toothed grin as I stood before my mirror, my heart a “tangle of nerves.”
What does a university student even look like? I scrolled through my iPad, looking at fashion blogs, trying to find a version of “me” that fit this new world. Finally, I grabbed my keys, whispered a quick
“Focus, Renae,” to my reflection, and headed to the garage. I passed the garden—our “colourful jungle” of 350 plants that Anna, Jerry, and I had laboured over—and drove toward my future.
When I pulled onto campus, I didn’t find a quiet library. I found a riot of colour.
Banners snapped in the breeze, and music thumped through the air. It felt less like a school and more like a festival.
“Is there... a party today?” I asked a student leaning against a brick wall.
He let out a friendly laugh. “You must be new. I’m Michael, second year.” He gestured to the name engraved on my keychain. “And you’re Renae, right?”
“First day,” I admitted, my voice small. “Call me Ree.”
“Welcome to the ‘Carnival of Virtual Games’, Ree,” Michael explained, his eyes bright. “Gaming companies take over the campus every year. They even scout for two winners—one boy, one girl—to compete professionally. You interested?”
I hesitated. I’d heard the sceptics call gaming a distraction, a “waste of time,” but standing there in the sun, it felt like something more. Something thrilling.
Then, the air seemed to shift.
A man moved through the crowd, and it was as if the music dimmed. He was tall, striking, with a gravity that made the flirting girls around him seem like static noise. He didn’t even glance their way. Just seeing him made my heart skip a beat—a strange, sharp ache I couldn’t name.
“That’s the owner of one of the gaming giants,” Michael whispered with a knowing grin.
My pulse drummed against my ribs. Focus, I scolded myself. You are here for computer science, not for handsome strangers. “You’re not fooling anyone,” Michael teased, noticing my distracted gaze. “Where’d your mind go?”
“Into the woods,” I joked, and we shared a laugh that broke the tension.
By the time I reached my first lecture, the world felt smaller, kinder. A girl named Tiara waved me over with a warm smile, and our professor, Andrew Fredrickson, began to speak. He was young, brilliant, and as he spoke about the mysteries of code, I realised I wasn’t just starting a degree.
I was starting an adventure I never saw coming....
Back to Present…
I glanced at Araana, who sat quietly, eyes heavy with anticipation. I smiled, ready to continue, but the weariness of memory invited a gentle pause. “And that’s how it started,” I said softly.
The room fell into a serene stillness, a bridge between past and present. This was the story I promised to tell.
