I almost cried when I opened the box. The writing on the outside was a large, untidy scrawl that I hadn't recognised buy it all came flooding back to me as soon as a lifted the lid. I lived in a cottage in the middle of the woods. I didn't really have anything else. My parents were torn apart by a bear when I was five, and that had been hard on me. Mostly because I realised i would always be alone for my birthday. I knew I could handle it because I was a tough girl, but I thought it would be lonely for an older me to be on my own. So I collected some items that were important for me, wrote happy birthday on the box, and ran to the town where I asked the nice man at the post office to deliver this package on the 26th of November in twenty years time. He was bemused, but I think he found it cute.

Naturally, the state found me and put me into the foster system for a while, but as soon as I turned 18 I returned to my house in the woods to fix it up and just get back to my roots. I had a boyfriend staying with me for a while, but he left and I found myself alone again like I had been when I was five. Now here I was, a twenty five-year-old, sobbing over the generosity of a younger version of myself who gave up her most precious treasures in order to cheer up an adult she didn't even know. I hugged the stuffed bunny I had loved so dearly and sniffed its dusty fur.

I considered the post-office and how they had kept the strange little box from the strange little girl and still remembered the address and the date.

I felt seen.

You decide to go to a random funeral and discover they lived a parallel life to yours and you never even met them once

"It all started when the villain first rose to power," the Hero began. The spy sat cross legged on the floor and listened patiently. "We were polar opposites. I was blessed with powers that served good. Him... not so much. He allowed his powers to corrupt him, driving away everyone he loved and leaving him a mess of chaotic energy and angst. So much angst." The Hero sighed affectionately. "Our first duel, as you know, took place at town hall. He was always so fussy about fighting over significant monuments. We were evenly matched, and all we succeeded in doing was destroying the town hall, which was not an outcome either of us benefited from. I remember feeling: so angry at him; so intrigued by him. Never had I met an equal before. It lit a flame in me, one that burns even now. From then on, I entered battles with him seeking only the thrill of seeing how well our powers complemented each other: good and evil; light and dark. It was like we were meant for each other. And he tells me he felt it, too. He even appeared at my window one night to tell me so.

"It was then that we began to formulate our plan. He would give me a public ultimatum, one that looked like sacrifice to my followers. And I would accept his bargain and live with him forever after. "

The spy looked confused. "So... where is he? What happened?" The Hero sighed. "To keep up illusions, my villain continued to raid the odd bank and run the odd country. He does it to protect us. But I think I've truly changed him for the better. At least he isn't ruthlessly slaughtering civilians en masse any more. "

"But... the resistance?! My whole reason for being?! Are you saying it's a lie??!"

The Hero who was no longer a hero smiled sadly. "The resistance was a feeble mimic of my abilities. It was an attempt of the people to band together to take down my villain. But only I am strong enough to defeat him. And I no longer hold any desire to. Perhaps I never did. " Footsteps sounded down the hall and a dark robed figure appeared in the doorway. "Ah, darling!" Exclaimed the Hero, "can you please deal with this intruder? Thank you oh so much. "

The spy turned to the Hero once more as the villain dragged them out of the room. "You were my hero. You were everyone's hero!" The Hero shook their head.

"I want mine. I never was. Perhaps I needed a Villain to rescue me."

"N-nooooo," hastened the person who looked suspiciously like the dead hero, "you have me confused for someone else." The spy eyed the hero, unconvinced. "All I said was that you're alive. Have I confused you for someone else that is alive?" "No, it's just had your tone of voice suggested..." The hero looked around before hurrying the spy into their chamber. "Okay, so I am the lost Hero, as you no doubt suspected. Congratulations. You found me! Hurrah! Leave now!"

The spy blinked uncomprehendingly. "But I have so many questions! First of all, how?!"

The Hero sighed. "You may as well know," they said, patting the bed as they sat down. "What you probably know is that I gave myself up to my 'mortal enemy' for the safety of my family." The spy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes. You sacrificed yourself selflessly for the good of the community and your family. The great scoundrel was unmoved by your overwhelming generosity and slew you regardless. This is subject matter taught at the Resistance camp."

The Hero chuckled. "Selfless," they mused, "good of the community." They began to laugh uproariously.

"What... what did I say? Is that not what really happened?"

The Hero wiped a tear from their eye, still struggling to keep from laughing.

"I think it's time I taught you about story tropes. Have you ever heard of Enemies to lovers?

I was a genius, so they said. They deemed it both a blessing and a shortcoming.

"Sure, she can construct a death ray from scratch," they murdered when my back was turned, "but what of love? Surely, his brain draws all the blood from his heart!"

And I set about to prove them wrong, only to find them right. In all I did, it was about reputation. I didn't even love him. I couldn't even look him in the eyes. After 12 days, I was struggling to maintain my denial. After two months, that ship had long sailed.

I found myself feeling sick at the prospect of taking care of a child. But the alternative... all those people who said I was a one trick pony... I couldn't stand to give them the satisfaction of being right. I had to prove that I could be both an intelligent, successful woman and a caring mother. Simultaneously.

Except I knew I couldn't. Not yet.

As a scientist, I knew a thing or two about the scientific method. And I knew I needed to collect data before formulating any kind of hypothesis about this experiment. I revamped my old time machine, cringing inwardly at the irony that I could construct a machine that breached the fundamental laws of physics, but couldn't comprehend basic human nature. Maybe all those doubters who called me a robot were right about... but giving up on myself was not an option. I could not - would not - allow my imposter syndrome to rule my life. I had to prove to everyone and myself that I could do this. I just needed a little help from the smartest person I knew: me.

The first thing I noticed about my lab in the future was how clean it was. I could barely find the time to clean it as a full-time scientist. How could I manage this with a child in the mix? I saw a tired and shrivelled version of myself bent over a stretcher, working on what appeared to be a tube filled with wires. "Excuse me..." 'I' jumped and almost dropped her screwdriver. "Who... what... it's nothing!" She threw a sheet over her construction before turning to see me. "Oh thank God," She sighed, running her hands through her greyed hair, "I thought it was... well... anyone, really." I moved towards the stretcher. Pulling back the blanket, I discovered what appeared to be a 12-year-old girl. Except it wasn't. It was very much robotic, evidenced only by the open panel on her chest that spewed wires across her synthetic flesh. "What...?" I couldn't quite formulate the words. "Oh, that's Victoria. It's her birthday today, so I'm giving her an upgrade. Puberty and all that." Her words offered little in the way of explanations. "But... she's... what happened to...?" I gestured in the general vicinity of my womb. Her face twitched and her eyes clouded. "It... she..." her breath staggered a bit, "didn't work out." And she regaled me with her story: how she worked her heart out to prepare to be a perfect mother; how she renovated a room in her house into a nursery and built robotic toys for her future baby to play with, seven months early; how she felt a pang in her stomach area and discovered a patch of brownish-red blood staining her underwear; how she carried on pretending to be pregnant after the miscarriage, even to the point of building a mechanical baby, to fool the people around her and herself into thinking that yes, she could do this. Yes, she wasn't a failure. I looked at the girl and then back at my miserable future self. "And did it work?" She closed her eyes and rolled up her sleeves, showing me her scarred wrists. "I just wish," she croaked, "that someone had told me it was okay to not be motherly and personable. That it didn't define me. That it doesn't define you." And we hugged and mourned Victoria, as nobody had thought or dared to since her silent passing.

And I went back home none the wiser on how to raise a child, but more comfortable in myself than I had been for many years.