The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon when Allegra woke up, feeling a mixture of nervousness and anticipation churning in her stomach. Today was the day she would return to school. Two years had passed since she awoke in this new body, in this new life, and although many things remained a mystery, Allegra had learned to adapt, to mask her confusion, and to hide her true thoughts.

As she got dressed, the weight of her most recent decision lingered with her. She had spent months thinking about what she should do, and in the end, she had chosen what she believed was her only option. During her last session with the psychologist, Allegra had lied. She had looked the man straight in the eye and told him, with as much conviction as she could muster, that she understood everything she had experienced as Felicity—memories of another life, another world—was just a dream, a creation of her young mind to cope with the trauma of the accident. She assured him that she now knew she was Allegra and that any trace of Felicity was nothing more than an illusion.

The psychologist had looked at her with a mix of suspicion and relief, but in the end, he believed her. Or at least, he chose to act as if he did. Allegra knew that lie would grant her a certain freedom, allowing her to escape the constant surveillance she had been under. And most importantly, it would let her return to school—a place where she hoped to find answers or at least clues that would bring her closer to her goal: understanding where she was and how to get back to her family.

After breakfast, Allegra went up to her room and looked at herself in the mirror as she adjusted her uniform with confident hands. Her silver hair fell gently over her forehead, and with practiced movements, she made sure everything was in place. She had learned to style her hair on her own and to handle these small daily rituals independently. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit ridiculous seeing herself in a school uniform with a backpack slung over her shoulder. The irony of the situation made her smile: an adult woman, at least in her mind, going back to school as a 12-year-old boy. It was as if life were mocking her, forcing her to relive a stage she had already left behind. There was something both comical and tragic about it, but Allegra chose to take it with humor. There wasn’t much else she could do.

Finally, the moment arrived. Allegra went downstairs with her backpack over her shoulder and headed to the front entrance. There, Wolfgang was waiting, dressed in a suit, his expression a mix of pride and slight worry. Beside him, the chauffeur stood with the car door open, ready to take them to school.

Allegra took one last deep breath before stepping through the door. She felt this was a crucial step, not just for her education but for her personal mission. As she climbed into the car next to Wolfgang, a part of her couldn’t help but feel an echo of the sadness she had left behind. But what dominated her thoughts was hope—the determination to keep moving forward, to discover the truth, and to, one day, find her way back home.

Wolfgang gave her a calm smile as the car began to move, and Allegra settled into her seat, watching the house fade into the distance through the window. Her new life was underway, and though the path was uncertain, she was ready to face it with a mix of humor and resolve.