OP One SHOTS that anyone wanted to do but couldn’t

Chapter 15: Waking to RealityThe Blinding Light

Ethan's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he couldn't tell where he was. The soft hum of the Stellar Forge and the faint glow of the Infinity Node were gone. Instead, sunlight streamed through a window, and the familiar smell of home—coffee, wood polish, and the faint hint of his mom's favorite lavender candles—filled the air.

"Where... am I?" he muttered, sitting up abruptly. His heart pounded as he took in his surroundings: his childhood bedroom. Posters of galaxies and starships covered the walls, a stack of science textbooks sat on the desk, and his old laptop hummed softly in the corner.

"This can't be real," he whispered. "It was real. The network, the galaxies, Athena…"

He looked down at his hands, half-expecting to see the sleek Nano Boots. Instead, his palms were calloused from tinkering with tools. He swung his legs off the bed, his breath shaky. It felt too vivid to be a dream.

Home Again

Ethan crept downstairs, his heart racing. The house was exactly as he remembered it, down to the faded family photos lining the walls. He paused at the doorway to the kitchen, his breath catching in his throat.

There they were. His parents. His mom hummed softly as she prepared breakfast, her movements precise and familiar. His dad sat at the table, reading the newspaper, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Morning, sleepyhead," his dad said without looking up. "You're up late."

Ethan froze, his chest tightening. He hadn't seen them in what felt like centuries. "Dad? Mom?" His voice trembled.

His mom turned, her expression softening. "Well, someone's had a rough night," she teased. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ethan's legs nearly gave out. He stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around his mother in a hug so tight it made her laugh. "What's gotten into you, honey?" she asked, patting his back.

"Nothing," he whispered, his throat tight. "I just... missed you."

The Weight of a Dream

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Ethan stayed close to his parents, watching them with a new appreciation. His dad's gruff humor, his mom's gentle smiles—it all felt so precious, so fragile. He couldn't shake the feeling of loss that lingered from the dream.

That night, as he lay in bed, he stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling. The memories of the dream felt so real: the galaxies, the virtual worlds, Athena's calm voice guiding him. But it was all gone now.

"It wasn't real," he whispered to himself. "It was just a dream."

But the dream left him with a lingering question: what had driven him to leave everything behind? His parents, his home, the people who cared about him—was it worth it to build a legacy in the stars if it meant losing them?

A Promise to Remember

The next morning, Ethan woke up with a sense of clarity. As much as the dream had inspired him, it had also been a warning. He couldn't let ambition blind him to the things that mattered most.

At breakfast, he sat across from his parents, studying their faces. "I've been thinking," he said. "Maybe I've been too focused on what's out there—on science, space, and all that. I think it's time I started focusing on what's right here."

His mom gave him a puzzled smile. "You've always had your head in the stars, Ethan. But you've got a good heart, too."

His dad nodded, setting down his coffee mug. "Whatever you decide to do, we'll always be here for you."

Ethan smiled, the weight of the dream finally lifting. "Thanks, Dad. I won't forget that."

The Lesson of the Dream

Over the following weeks, Ethan began to reframe his ambitions. He didn't give up his love for exploration or innovation, but he made a conscious effort to balance it with the things that mattered most—his family, his connections, and the world he already had.

The dream stayed with him, a vivid reminder of what could have been. He still tinkered with his projects, still dreamed of reaching the stars, but he knew now that no achievement was worth losing the people he loved.

"Maybe one day," he thought, staring at the night sky, "I'll build something incredible. But I'll never let it take me away from what really matters."

And with that promise, Ethan found peace—not in the vastness of the cosmos, but in the warmth of his home.

The End