Later that day, quiet had settled over the apartment, its lull an uneasy comfort. I lay on the bed, every creak of the frame and rustle of the sheets a strange betrayal of who I used to be. The earlier chaos had dissolved into a suffocating calm.
The man—I wished I knew his name—had taken the kids out for a walk, telling me to rest and not worry about anything. If only he knew what that really meant.
When I was sure they were gone, I moved through the apartment like an intruder. I opened drawers, rifled through papers, desperate for some clue to make sense of this.
Bills addressed to Zoey Moreland.
“…Moreland.”
Of course. The same last name of the guy I’d Venmo’d.
Dan Moreland. That was him. The man I'd been dealing with online, the one selling the stroller. And now somehow I was trapped in his wife's body.
I rushed to the window, peering down at the parking lot. Our blue Honda was gone.
Was Zoey in my body right now? Was she driving home with my wife, living my life, while I was trapped here? Why? How?
The front door burst open, “Honey! You’re up! Feeling better?”
I jumped at Dan's voice, whirling around. He stood in the doorway with a shopping bag in one hand, the other holding the door for the children as they bounded in behind him.
"Y-yeah," I stammered, trying to smile naturally.
"Good," Dan said, setting down the bag, "We got you some of those chocolate-covered strawberries you like. Thought it might help."
The little girl—my supposed daughter—tugged at the hem of my shirt, "Mommy, I drew you something at the park!"
She thrust a crumpled paper into my hand. A stick figure with long orange hair stood smiling beside three smaller figures.
"That's you, and that's me and Daddy and Tommy!"
I looked at the smaller boy who hung back behind his father's legs. Tommy. At least now I knew their names.
"It's... beautiful," I croaked.
The man smiled at me from the doorway, looking at me like I was his whole world. My stomach lurched.
I stood there as they moved past me like a tide I couldn’t fight against. I needed air, needed to get outside, away from this place that felt like a trap.
I felt his hand on my back.
"Hey," Dan's voice softened, "I’m so glad you’re feeling better. You look beautiful."
I looked at Dan, my panic briefly overshadowed by incredulity. He wasn’t exactly the best looking guy. Nothing special, really—kind of dorky, actually, with his plain clothes and wire-rimmed glasses.
Maybe Zoe just had a thing for nerds. Maybe that’s what drew her to him—the endless, grateful attention she got from a guy like that. Dan sure seemed to look at her like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. From what I’d seen, it was the kind of adoration that reeked of dorky desperation.
I glanced down at her prominent chest, at the narrow waist and long, slender legs that were now mine, and had to admit that I could understand. I could understand why he might’ve been so into Zoey.
“Mommy?” The little girl’s voice broke through my internal chaos, “Can we play?”
“Play?” I echoed.
I sighed internally. I couldn’t exactly bolt out the door and go home. Not in this body, not with a family who believed I was their mother.
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