Lying on my deathbed, my breathing grew shallow, my heart faltered. Looking back on the life I’d lived, I felt… mostly content.

  After saying my goodbyes and casting one last look at my loved ones, I knew, albeit reluctantly, that it was time.

  My eyelids drifted closed, my life’s highlight reel flashed before me—thankfully without the cheesy music.

  I was born near the turn of the century on a planet called Earth.

  Pretty standard origin story, right?

  When I first opened my eyes, I was met with warm smiles and happy tears. I was fortunate to be born to a loving family in a safe and stable country.

  My childhood was great—running under the sun, forging new friendships and connections. It was the most carefree period of my life.

  Back then, my biggest worry was whether I’d be allowed to stay up late to watch TV. Ah, simpler times.

  Luckily, my brain worked wonders, and I was able to achieve good grades without much effort. But school wasn’t just about the grades.

  It was challenging to meet new people and make new friends at first, but I soon found a small pack.

  With these wonderful friends by my side, we navigated the ups and downs of adolescence together, eagerly anticipating the freedom—and responsibilities—of adulthood.

  Turns out, “responsibilities” was the key word there.

  Adult life was… different from what I’d envisioned. There was considerably less freedom. I was burdened with the crushing weight of everyday responsibilities—bills, work, a social life, and a distinct lack of sleep.

  My early adult life isn’t particularly interesting. I was an invisible part of society, and I was happy with that.

  My decisions didn’t impact many people; power and politics weren’t my thing. I just lived life and enjoyed the small things, mostly reading light novels and watching anime.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The most impactful decision I made was during a D&D game with friends. It’s those important decisions, and rolling those dice, that slayed those imaginary dragons.

  The love of my life waltzed into my life later in my adulthood. After navigating the ups and downs of life together, we realized we were in it for the long haul.

  Cue the nervous excitement, a wedding, and then… a tiny human. A miniature, screaming version of us, demanding constant attention and emitting questionable odors.

  It was… quite the adjustment.

  I’ll never forget the day I officially became a parent. The glorious, terrifying moment when the full weight of parenthood landed squarely on my shoulders.

  With the new addition to my family, every moment became a precious, chaotic memory: the crying jags, the frantic feedings, the homework battles, the never-ending chores, the life lessons, the school events, the ear-splitting concerts, and the much-needed vacations.

  It was all my world. My wonderfully, wonderfully chaotic world.

  Our little family remained an invisible part of society, steering clear of any unnecessary drama. I did everything I could to keep everyone together and safe.

  Though, Earth wasn’t exactly a stress-free paradise.

  There was the usual stuff: crazy geopolitics making the news look like a dystopian novel, the occasional war reminding us that history has a nasty habit of repeating itself, and the rollercoaster that was the global economy, which seemed determined to give us all whiplash.

  When trouble did find us, I wasn’t afraid to protect my loved ones with everything I had.

  Luckily, those times were few and far between. Morals and kindness are great—for people who respect them, anyway.

  By focusing on my own little corner of the world, cocooning myself in the comforting embrace of family and friends, things somehow… worked out.

  Not perfectly, of course. Life rarely is. But it was my life. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

  After eighty-plus years on this Earth, my life was starting to feel a little… less energetic.

  The thrill of experiencing entirely new things had dimmed a bit, but there was still plenty to keep me occupied.

  In retirement, I kept my mind sharp by learning new things and puttering around with various projects. Tinkering, my wife used to call it, gave me a sense of purpose, a reason to get out of bed in the morning, and my family and friends were incredibly supportive.

  My ability to keep my emotions and impulses in check definitely contributed to my good health. I’ve always loved a good laugh, and I’m a happy-go-lucky kind of guy.

  So, that’s it. A happy ending. The story concludes here, right?

  Well… yeah. Unless, of course, there’s a sequel. But I wouldn’t bet on it.