I remember the day I was born—the sun rising over Pride Rock, the animals bowing, Rafiki lifting me into the sky. I was the future. My father, Mufasa, carried me on his back like a king already in training. I didn’t know then that my uncle Scar watched from the shadows, his eyes full of poison.

Now, years later, I lie beneath a foreign sun, belly full, mind empty. 'Hakuna matata,' Timon says. No worries. But I do. Every night, I see my father fall. Every silence screams his name.

Nala found me today. She fought me, not knowing it was me. When she did… her eyes changed. 'The Pride Lands are dying,' she said. 'Scar has ruined everything. We need you, Simba.'

I told her I can’t go back. That I’m not who I used to be. But she won’t let me hide. 'You’re the king,' she said. 'Whether you run from it or not.'

The wind stirs. Somewhere, Rafiki waits. Somewhere, my father watches. The question isn’t whether I can return.

It’s whether I will.