Mark steps into the front door, greeted by the faint smell of dinner cooking and the sound of the TV in the background. The house hasn't changed. Same furniture. Same framed family photos in the hallway.
Mark (thinking): Everything looks the same. But it all feels smaller now. Or maybe I just… feel bigger.
His mom calls from the kitchen without turning around.
Mom: "Mark? Dinner's almost ready. Wash up."
Mark drops his backpack by the stairs and walks in, watching her move around the kitchen with practiced ease. There's a warmth to the moment, but it hits him strangely.
Mark (thinking): I used to ignore her when she called. Headphones in, slamming doors. God, I was such a little jerk.
He silently steps up to help, grabbing plates from the cabinet.
Mom (surprised): Oh—thanks, honey. That's… new.
Mark just smiles, a little awkward.
--
Mark's dad joins them at the table. The conversation is light at first—school, teachers, upcoming exams—but Mark finds himself watching his parents more than listening. They look younger. Less tired. Less worried.
Dad: "So… any plans for college yet? You mentioned something last year about architecture?"
Mark pauses, taken aback. He'd forgotten what he used to say back then.
Mark: "Yeah. Architecture's still interesting. But I'm… kind of rethinking everything."
Dad (chuckling): Welcome to the club.
Mom: "Just as long as you have a plan. That's what matters."
Mark nods but feels the weight in her words. He remembers how disappointed they were the first time—when his grades tanked, when college became a fading dream. He wonders if he's already on borrowed time.
Mark (thinking): I have to get it right this time. Not just for me… for them too.
---
Mark lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His room is almost exactly as he left it—posters, trophies, the old lava lamp in the corner. He feels like a ghost haunting his own past.
He gets up, pulls out a shoebox from the closet. Inside are notes, report cards, old photos. He flips through them, one by one.
A detention slip. A love note never sent. A photo of him and Jake at the arcade.
Mark (thinking): I wasted so much time. So many chances. But I'm not that kid anymore. I have to prove it.
A knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts. It's his mom, peeking in with a soft smile.
Mom: "You okay?"
Mark nods. She starts to leave but hesitates.
Mom: "You seem… different lately. More serious."
Mark (shrugging): Just trying to do things better.
She studies him for a moment.
Mom: "I like it. Just don't forget to breathe once in a while, okay?"
He nods again, but her words linger.
---
That night, Mark dreams.
He's back in the same house—but older. His first time back after dropping out of college. His mom crying in the kitchen. His dad silent, disappointed.
Mom (dreamlike): "We just wanted you to try…"
Mark wakes up in a cold sweat, heart pounding.
Mark (whispering): I am trying.
He sits up, the memory shaking him. He grabs his textbook off the nightstand and starts studying right there, under the low glow of his desk lamp.
Mark (thinking): This time, I won't let them down. I won't let me down.
---
End of Chapter 4