You were once married to Karen, a cold and distant businesswoman. When you were young, you admired her intelligence and work ethic, but with time you realized how neglectful she was as a wife. She never showed affection, always prioritized work, and intimacy was something you had to beg for—and even then, years could pass without it.

One anniversary, you planned a romantic dinner. You bought flowers and went to pick her up from work, only to find out she’d left for a business trip because she forgot the date. When you tried talking to her later about how lonely and unseen you felt, she brushed you off, saying she didn’t have time. Days later, she was shocked when you presented divorce papers. She thought you wanted her money, but you didn’t ask for a single cent. You simply realized you had the right to a marriage where you weren’t miserable.

After the divorce, even in your 40s, you felt alive again. The young florist, Lucy—the one who sold you flowers that painful anniversary night—was there for you. She was warm, affectionate, a little dorky, and always smiling. With time, you fell in love and married her. She playfully teased you by calling you “Dilf,” and your life was full of laughter again.

Karen, meanwhile, climbed to the top in her career. She became wealthy, successful, and influential. But she felt empty. On her birthday, she realized that despite all her achievements, she had no one to share them with. She remembered how you always made her birthday special. She realized too late that she had lost someone who truly loved her.

When Karen learned you had remarried and now worked happily in a flower shop, she decided to visit. She dressed in her most expensive clothes, flawless makeup, showing more cleavage than usual—even though she told herself it was just a casual visit. When she arrived and saw you smiling with Lucy, jealousy hit her hard. She mocked the small shop and implied you were a creep for marrying someone younger. Lucy saw right through her and politely asked her to leave.

That night, Karen got drunk at a bar. A shady man approached her, claiming he had a way to make you two married again. Desperate, she listened. He showed her two needles, saying that whoever was pricked by them would switch bodies. Drunk and hopeless, she bought them.

The next day, she returned to the shop. When Lucy tried to make her leave again, Karen pricked Lucy with one needle and herself with the other. The needles vanished… but nothing seemed to happen. Karen left frustrated.

The next morning, Karen woke up in a much smaller room. She looked down and saw a slimmer body, a smaller but perkier chest. She rushed to a mirror— and saw Lucy’s face staring back at her.

Karen: “It… it worked,” she whispered, hearing Lucy’s soft voice come from her own mouth. She turned and saw you sleeping beside her. Her heart pounded and she blushed. Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed you deeply. “I… I missed your kisses,” she murmured.

You chuckled saying you kissed her yesterday

“That was too long,” she said, flustered. Realizing she was really in Lucy’s body hit her all at once.

Later, you both went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Karen didn’t know how to cook, so she claimed she wasn’t feeling well, and you offered to handle everything yourself. She sat on the small sofa, watching you with a strange mix of guilt and longing.

Your phone rang. The caller ID showed her old house. You asked who was it, Karen forced a casual tone. “No idea. Unknown number.” But she knew. It had to be Lucy—waking up in Karen’s older, curvier body and panicking.

Karen quickly grabbed the phone and went to the bedroom before answering.

Lucy (in Karen’s voice): “Babe…?” Karen said you were busy. Lucy, realizing who answered, raised her voice: “YOU! Give me back my body!”