The first thing I noticed when I woke up wasn’t the sky—it was too blue. Unreal, like the memory of a dream you swear never happened. The hues bled into each other in a way that felt unnatural, as if the universe was trying to stretch itself too thin.
I sat up in bed, looking around the room. Same floral curtains, same wooden chair by the window. Yet something felt off. There was a slight hum in the air, like static, a pulse I couldn’t quite place. I rose and stepped toward the door.
The second thing was my mother’s voice, humming in the kitchen. It was familiar—too familiar. The same tone, the same soft cadence of a lullaby from my childhood. But there was something deeper in her voice, something older. The smell of cardamom tea and burnt toast filled the air—comforting, constant.
But as I walked into the hallway, I heard something that made my pulse quicken.
A man’s voice.
I paused. My best friend, Aarav, was standing in the kitchen. I froze in the doorway as he kissed my mother on the cheek, his lips lingering just a second too long, almost affectionate. “Morning, Ma,” he said, and his tone was so… natural.
Ma?
I had to be dreaming. This was impossible. Aarav and I had been best friends since I could remember. We were never close enough for him to be calling my mother “Ma.” We’d never even talked about it, not once. But there he was, his tousled hair falling over his eyes, leaning into my mother as if he belonged there.
I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, my father walked past me, giving Aarav a playful knock on the head. “Your husband’s always late, Isha,” he chuckled, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
My husband?
I felt the world tilt beneath my feet. My father had never called Aarav "my husband." Aarav had been like a brother to me, someone who knew all my secrets, my fears, my dreams. The boy who once stole a box of chocolates for me after I had my first heartbreak. Now, apparently, we were married.
I stood frozen in place. My father and mother exchanged a glance, something unreadable passing between them. My father passed me his usual knowing smile, the one that seemed to tell me that no matter what the universe threw our way, we’d make it through. But this… this was something else. Something unspoken.
I didn’t know whether to scream or break down.
Instead, I took a shaky step back, retreating to the sanctuary of my room. The mirror there caught my reflection—same face, a little paler, a little older. My eyes, though, they were different. Wider, unsure, searching. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She wore a simple dress, but something about her posture was different—more confident, more… at ease.
On the dresser was a photograph. I picked it up, my hands trembling. It was me. But not the me I knew. The woman in the picture was standing beside Aarav in wedding attire. His arm was wrapped around my waist, and we were laughing—our faces full of the kind of joy I never thought we’d share.
I felt a knot tighten in my chest. My mind screamed in disbelief: This can’t be real. This isn’t my life. This isn’t me.
I stepped out of the house, desperate to breathe air that didn’t feel like it was closing in on me. The world outside was just as strange. The sky was too bright, the trees too green. It was as if the entire world had been painted by an artist who had lost track of where the edges of reality were supposed to lie.
Then, I saw her.
Kavya. The girl who had once been my fiercest rival in school. The one who had spread rumors about me, the one who had once mocked me for being ‘too different’—the one who had never missed an opportunity to make me feel small.
Now, she was cradling a baby, cooing gently at the infant, and when she saw me, she smiled. “Isha! Don’t forget we’re heading to the market with Amma later,” she said, like we were long-lost sisters reconnecting. Her eyes sparkled with warmth, and the softness in her tone made me forget, for just a moment, the rivalry that had once defined our relationship.
But I didn’t recognize this version of her. How could I?
She had always been my enemy. Now, she was... my sister?
A sense of unease washed over me, the ground beneath my feet suddenly feeling too fragile. The world was shifting again, spinning faster than I could comprehend.
I walked on, my mind racing. What was happening?
It was as if the universe had drawn a new map, one where all the lines had changed—where people who had once been strangers were now familiar, and those who had been close were now distant. What was left for me in this world?
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I sat between my parents, watching them in silence. My father handed me his cup of tea, as though nothing had changed. His eyes, warm and steady, met mine. “You’re quiet today,” he said, his voice soothing, like he always knew what I needed without asking.
“Do you believe in other worlds, Papa?” I whispered, feeling the weight of it all. “Do you think there’s a version of me out there… somewhere else?”
He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze distant. “I believe in tea at sunset, Isha. And I believe in the people we’re meant to be.”
“But this isn’t me, Papa.” My voice cracked. “None of this is what I know. Aarav... Kavya… They’re all different. They’re all wrong. How is this happening?”
My father didn’t respond right away. He took a deep breath, as though the answer he wanted to give was one he had been waiting for all his life.
He reached over and gently touched my hand. “Sometimes, the universe gives us what we need, not what we expect. You may not understand it now, but you’re part of something bigger, Isha. Something beyond this world. The threads of the universe are tangled, yes—but they always find their way. Even when they change.”
I stared at him, searching his face for some sign of the man I knew. But his expression was calm, almost knowing. Was it possible that he, too, knew something I didn’t?
As I lay in bed that night, I tried to piece together my shattered reality. The relationships, the memories, the people—they were the same, but they weren’t. I was waking up in a version of my life that felt both alien and achingly familiar. The universe had pulled the strings, and I had no idea whether this was my story to live or someone else’s to tell.
But one thing was clear.
No matter where I was, no matter who I became, my parents were my anchor. They were the constant in a sea of infinite possibilities. The question now was—how would I navigate the new world I found myself in? Was there still a version of me who existed here, or was I meant to leave all of them behind?
In the mirror, I caught my reflection once more. I didn’t know the woman I saw—but I knew I had to be her.
And so, I decided.
I would find my place, even if it meant reshaping everything I had ever known. Because if the universe had placed me here, then maybe, just maybe, this was where I was meant to be.
Even if I had to rebuild my story from scratch.
React
