Chapter 4

My body seemed to calm down the moment I decided to go through with the process.

I leaned quietly against my bedroom door. Through the wood, I could hear my parents talking.

"One more day? I can hardly wait one more day!" Amy said, lowering her voice.

"It's already moving as fast as it can," Roger replied.

"It's still not fast enough." She sighed. "Just thinking about my darling Rose having to wait one more minute breaks my heart!"

For some reason, her words no longer upset me. It felt as though the crushing weight on my chest had finally begun to lift.

I even found myself counting down the time until it was over.

Amy showed me an album filled with cake designs. "Pick one."

I pointed to the white cake with the lace-trimmed edge.

She brought out a box of colorful candles. "Now pick these."

I took out eight candles and lined them up on the table.

Amy froze. Her eyes reddened as she looked at me.

"Is this cake for my farewell ceremony, or is it meant to welcome Rosamund?" I asked calmly.

She looked away, her fingers trembling. "Don't say that!"

…

That afternoon, Roger started clearing out my room. My notebooks, cards, certificates, awards, everything was taken out and stuffed into a black trash bag.

Amy covered my entire bed in pink decorations.

"It's her favorite color," she said.

My desk was moved out, and Rosamund's old easel was brought in. As they set it down, it kicked up a cloud of dust. I accidentally inhaled it and broke into a cough, my chest aching.

"Don't breathe that in!" Amy said sharply. "We don't want the body getting sick."

I reached into the trash bag and pulled out a notebook, but she pressed my hand back down. "We shouldn't keep these things. Rose might feel isolated if she sees them in her room."

I let go. The notebook slipped back into the bag, and one of the stickers peeled away from the edge.

Caelan showed up that evening carrying his own notebook.

"Could you write down some tips and a few notes about me?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "Things like my stomach problems, so I can't drink iced beverages. Or that I don't like people touching my laptop."

My throat felt dry too. "You want her to learn your habits and routine from these notes, huh? So she can replace me as your girlfriend as quickly as possible, right?"

Caelan's eyes turned red. "I'm just worried she'll have trouble getting used to me."

Without feeling anything at all, I wrote down everything he asked for.

Roger came over holding my debit card. "How much do you still have in savings?"

"Rose will need money to buy clothes and take care of some procedures and... well, she'll need money," Amy added quietly.

My savings were everything I had earned from part-time jobs, what remained of my scholarship money, and the allowance I had managed to save during college. Even so, I transferred every cent to my mother's account without hesitation.

I closed my banking app after the receipt appeared. When Amy saw the notification on her phone, her expression softened.

"You're such an understanding sweetheart, Amelia," she said.

Two hours remained.

They asked me to record a video message. Roger even had a script prepared.

"This is Amelia Silverstone. I've chosen to undergo the Replacement of my own free will, without any threat or coercion. Please don't blame my family... and welcome home, Rosamund."

Amy raised her phone and pointed it at us. "Smile, sweetie. Don't let anyone see that something's wrong."

Caelan swallowed hard and started to speak. "Maybe this isn't such a good ide—"

Tears streamed down Amy's face. "What if people ask where Amelia went? Do you want them to ostracize Rosamund the moment she comes back?"

Caelan fell silent.

I turned toward the camera and forced my lips into a painful smile. The effort made every muscle in my face ache.

"This is Amelia Silverstone. I've chosen to undergo the Replacement of my own free will, without any threat or coercion. Please don't blame my family..." I paused. "Welcome home, Rosamund. I hope you like it here... because I don't want it anymore."

Mom's face drained of color. "Delete that! Record it again!"

A notification suddenly appeared on the screen. Someone had sent a message.

[No! Let her speak! I don't want a home like this, Mom!]

Silence swallowed the living room as a second message appeared.

[Do any of you still remember what kind of person I was?]