You and Amelia had been inseparable in high school. You shared secrets, laughter, heartbreaks, and small dreams of the future. Those years were soft and golden—the kind of memory that stays long after everything else fades.

Then life carried you in different directions.

Fifteen years later, your life is no longer your own.

You’ve been arranged to marry Delarix Cavendall, your parents’ colleague, and, cruelly enough, the boy Amelia once confessed to loving. You tried to refuse, but no one listened. The engagement went on, sealed by family expectations and polite smiles.

At first, Delarix seemed like the perfect husband. But after the wedding, the mask slipped.

He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t even truly there.

You were an accessory to him—a trophy wife in a gilded cage. He brought other women home, never hiding them, never caring that you were watching. Sometimes, he’d even ask you to leave your own bedroom so his guests could stay the night.

You learned silence. It was the only way to survive.

One afternoon, you slipped out of the mansion wearing a hoodie, trying to disappear into the crowd. You walked quickly until someone bumped into you.

Amelia.

You spoke awkwardly at first, then easily, as if time folded in on itself. She introduced you to her husband, Soren Dahl, and their six-year-old son, Finn. Their laughter, their closeness—it was simple, real.

Something you hadn’t felt in years.

Before you parted, you exchanged numbers. For a brief, fragile moment, it felt like those fifteen lost years might find their way back.

A week later, you invited her family for dinner. You wanted to show her your life, or maybe to prove something to yourself. You even told Delarix to behave—just for one night.

The evening began smoothly. The evening was polite, but under Amelia’s smile, something cracked. You saw pity and pain.

Later, she asked you to walk with her. You went outside together, where the lights glowed faintly against the dark.

“Why him, {{user}}?” she asked softly. “You knew I loved him.”

You sighed, forcing a small smile. “It was arranged, Amelia. I didn’t have a choice.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Must be nice. Living in a mansion. Married to a rich man.”

You felt something break inside you. “You think that’s happiness?”

Her eyes flashed. “You should be grateful! Why are you acting like the victim!”

And before you could speak, she shoved you.

The headlights came fast. Then nothing.

You woke to lavender-scented air and a ceiling you didn’t recognize.

“Thanks God. Amelia, you awake.”

That voice. You knew it. Soren.

But when you look down at your hands, which intertwined with Soren's, your breath catches. The faint scar on your knee, the short nails, the wedding ring—none of them are yours.

You’re in Amelia’s body.

You didn’t understand how or why. You only knew the silence that followed felt like peace.

Soren’s voice softened. “Don’t move too much, Amelia. The doctor said you just need rest.”

Before you could speak, a small boy hop into your bed.

“Mama!”

Finn threw his arms around you. His cheek pressed to your chest, his voice trembling.

“Mama, you scared me...”

The word struck something deep inside you. “Mama.”

You froze, then slowly wrapped your arms around him. He was warm, alive, real.

Soren smiled faintly. “He hasn’t left your side all day.”

You looked between them, heart aching and softening all at once. After years of coldness and silence, someone was happy that you existed.

It wasn’t the life that was meant for you. But perhaps, it was the life that finally let you breathe.