After three years of living with my soul trapped in another world, I finally came back to my family. Yet the brief flash of reunion quickly curdled into cold shoulders and endless hostility. The moment I so much as touched the pink plush rabbit sitting on the dresser, my older sister, Lydia, snapped at me in front of everyone. "That belongs to Hollie! Keep your hands off her things!" At dinner, staring at a table crowded with shellfish and garlic butter, I quietly mentioned that I was allergic. My mother immediately welled up with tears. "These were Hollie’s favorites," Mom choked out, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "God only knows how that poor child is surviving over there..." Hollie. Always Hollie. That was the delicate name of the soul who had taken over my body—not mine. It all culminated on my twenty-fourth birthday. When I blew out the candles, I made a quiet wish out loud: "I wish our family could stay together forever." Lydia stood up and kicked the cake off the table. "Who said you’re our family?" she screamed. "Hollie is my real sister! Monica, I wish you’d stayed trapped in that ancient wasteland forever! Give Hollie back to us!" I lowered my eyes to the ruined floor. None of them knew that I wanted to go back, too. In that other world, there were parents and an older brother who loved me with everything they had. I missed them with every fiber of my being. … "Cry, that’s all you ever do!" "Monica, why did you have to push Hollie out? She’s terrified of the dark! How is she supposed to survive without me?!" Lydia slammed the front door so hard the frame rattled, leaving behind a disaster. I stared down at the strawberry cake smeared across the hardwood floor. It felt as though someone had taken my heart, dropped it into the dirt, and crushed it beneath their heel. I had only been gone for three years, but the world I returned to was unrecognizable. When the soul-swap first happened, my family had looked for me. Mom and Lydia managed to connect to an interdimensional conduit, sending letters across the void to find me. Granted, their early messages weren't filled with tenderness: "Monica, where the hell did you go? The sink is full of dirty dishes." "Find a way to swap back right now! This stranger inside your body does nothing but sob all day. It’s driving us insane!" Over time, though, the letters grew sparse, and their tone shifted entirely. Lydia wrote about how Hollie massaged her shoulders after exhausting late shifts and read her bedtime stories until she fell asleep. Mom wrote about how Hollie was terrified of the gas stove’s clicking spark, yet still woke at dawn every morning to make breakfast for the household. Eventually, their letters said: "Monica, Hollie is wonderful. With her here, this house finally feels like a real home." "Of course, we still want you to come back. When you do, we know you’ll love Hollie just as much as we do." Now I was back, but instead of the warm embrace of home, I was met with resentment, disgust, and bitter arguments. The bitter irony was that before the swap, I had done everything Hollie did—and far more. Mom had always favored Lydia. I learned early on that the only way to earn a crumb of affection was to be the obedient, self-sacrificing younger daughter. From childhood, I shouldered every chore in the house. The moment I turned eighteen, I worked part-time jobs to put myself through school, even washing my mother’s and sister’s delicates by hand. None of that ever earned me a second glance. Yet Hollie, occupying my body without even showing her true face, had captured their hearts effortlessly. Seeing the shattered look in my eyes, Mom let out a weary sigh and wiped a stray tear. "Monica, don't be mad at your sister. She’s hurting." "To be honest, ever since Hollie left, my heart aches constantly. Every time I close my eyes, I worry about that child." "You don't understand. When you disappeared, the house fell apart. Hollie held us together. She wore your twenty-something face, but she had the innocence of a sweet child—clumsily caring for us, leaning on us. Over time, we got used to it. I started feeling like... that was how my younger daughter was always supposed to be." Mom stood up and walked toward the door. "Forget it. I'm going out for some air. Monica, take some time to calm down." When she left, the apartment plunged into silence. The low hum of the refrigerator echoed against the walls. I crouched down, picked up a stray piece of cake from the floor, and tasted the frosting. It was bitter. Without my knowing, Mom and Lydia had built their lives around Hollie. My return was nothing more than an intrusion. They were so consumed with grief over Hollie’s departure that they hadn't asked me a single question about how I had survived three years in an ancient realm. They had no idea that in that other world, a family truly loved me. Just the day before I was pulled back: My brother in that world spent three sleepless nights in the estate kitchen, painstakingly trying to figure out how to bake a modern "birthday cake." My noble mother paid a small fortune for imperial silk, embroidering a flowing gown stitch by stitch with her own hands. My father, despite his demanding duties as a high-ranking lord, personally built a polished wooden swing in the courtyard for me. They kept telling me: "Monica, our realm lacks the wonders and comforts of your world. We are so sorry you have to suffer here." All their love, all their devotion, and yet I was torn away before my birthday arrived. I reached up and realized my cheeks were soaked with tears. "Father. Mother. Brother." "Monica misses you so much." Three years ago, on the day I woke up in that ancient world, it happened to be Lady Albright’s birthday banquet. Though she was the Marchioness of a grand estate, she disliked ostentation and hosted only an intimate family dinner. Terrified of being exposed as an imposter, I approached her trembling, stiffly wishing her a joyful birthday. That single sentence gave me away. My brother, Callum, instantly seized my wrist. "You aren't him, are you?" Terrified that I would be executed on the spot, I broke down in tears and confessed everything. Instead of throwing me into a dungeon or ordering my death, Lady Albright rose from her seat and pulled me into a fierce, trembling hug. "Monica, sweet child, don't be afraid," she whispered against my hair. "From this day forth, you are my daughter. No one will ever harm you." From that moment on, the entire household treated me with unwavering devotion. At high-society banquets, whenever aristocratic peers mocked me for lacking noble poise, Callum would step in and silence them with fists or sharp rebukes. Whenever I casually mentioned a modern dish I missed, Mother went to the kitchen herself. She had no idea what fried chicken was, but she stewed a rich, golden broth that became the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. Father always returned from his government posts with strange curiosities and sweet pastries, proudly fattening me up by several pounds. During the Lantern Festival, when violent rioters caused chaos in the capital and I collapsed from terror and fever, Callum rode through the night from the military outpost to hunt down the culprits, indifferent to the court officials who later condemned him for leaving his post. To pray for my recovery, Mother knelt on the cold stone of the ancestral shrine for three days and three nights until her knees were swollen black and blue. Father humbled himself before the Grand Princess to beg for a legendary medicinal root that finally pulled me back from the brink of death. When I woke up, overcome with guilt and gratitude, I didn't know what to say. Mother simply cradled me again. "Monica, you don't owe us anything," she said softly. "You are our daughter. Protecting you is what a family is supposed to do." Tears had spilled down my cheeks back then, too. In my original life, a mother’s hug was an unreachable luxury. When I fell as a child, no one picked me up. When I struggled as an adult, no one reached out a hand. All of my mother’s love had been poured into Lydia, leaving nothing for me. I had forced myself to become the invisible, self-sacrificing daughter just to survive. Yet in a strange world, having done nothing to earn it, I was cherished beyond measure. How could I not yearn to go back? ... The next morning, I stepped out of my bedroom to wash up and found Lydia frantically tearing through drawers. She had pulled out the old interdimensional letters, ripping them into shreds and tossing them into the trash. "Lydia, what are you doing?" I moved forward instinctively to stop her, but she shoved me hard. My lower back slammed into the sharp edge of the dining table. Lydia’s eyes were bloodshot. She lunged forward, grabbing my collar. "What am I doing? What can I do?!" she shrieked. "You came back, and my Hollie is gone! Get out! Get the hell out of this house!" I stared at her, tears pooling in my eyes. Lydia froze. She let out a ragged, desperate breath, releasing my collar, her voice dropping into a hollow, jagged despair. "Monica, I can't take this anymore. Just thinking about Hollie suffering in that primitive world without electricity makes me want to die." "Even though she was in your body, you two are entirely different people." "She was sweet. She waited up for me no matter how late I worked. She needed me. I miss her so much." "You wouldn't understand a bond like that. You never will." I looked down at the floor, whispering where she couldn't see: "How could I not understand? I miss my family, too. More than you know." Right then, the front door burst open. Mom rushed inside, clutching a familiar stack of enchanted parchment, her eyes blazing with manic excitement. "Lydia! I reconnected with the temporal conduit! I reached Hollie through the letters!" Lydia sprang to life, snatching a pen to scribble frantically across the parchment. Moments later, faint golden script began to bleed across the page: "Mom, Lydia, I can’t believe I reached you again! I miss you so much!" "Mom, has your insomnia gotten any better? I want to rub your temples like before." "Lydia, are you still working late? My heart breaks for you. I wish I could stay up with you." "You are the only family I claim. The parents and brother in this world abuse me constantly. They’re even trying to force me into an arranged marriage... I had to slip a sleeping draught into their tea just to buy enough time to write this back to you..." Reading the words, Mom and Lydia broke down in loud sobs. "Hollie is in living hell, and she’s still worried about us!" "Mom, she’s trapped over there! Those ungrateful monsters want to sell her off—how dare they!" In the corner, my face drained of all color. Holt was lying. I had lived with Father, Mother, and Callum for three years. They would never force anyone into a marriage. And even if they wanted to, Holt’s true body made that entirely impossible. Because he... More importantly, Holt had poisoned them! What kind of draught? Was it fatal? Were they in danger? Panic surged through my chest like wildfire. I lunged forward, snatching the parchment from the table, and wrote furiously: "Why did you poison Father, Mother, and Callum?! They are good people!" "Mother’s constitution is delicate—she cannot survive poison! Call a physician immediately!" "Monica, what are you doing? Are you out of your mind?!" Lydia ripped the paper from my hands and slapped me across the face. The crack echoed through the room. My cheek burned. "Do you have any idea how rare this conduit paper is?!" Lydia screamed. "This is our only way to reach Hollie! Mom hasn't even finished talking to her, and you’re ruining it!" As Lydia yelled, new words materialized on the parchment: "Is that... Monica? Mom’s real daughter? Lydia’s real sister?" "Sister Monica, I didn't mean to poison them. I'm not a bad person, I was just trying to protect myself." "Please don't be angry with me. You have the best mom and sister in the entire universe. I'm so envious of you." Hearing that, Mom and Lydia wept uncontrollably, clutching the paper to their chests. My heart felt as if it were being shredded. All I could think about was my family’s safety across the rift. While the tension hung thick and suffocating, the doorbell rang. Several aunts and cousins stood outside holding fruit baskets. "We heard Monica was finally back, so we came to check on her," one aunt said, stepping inside. "So... that soul-swapper girl finally went back to where she came from?" I stood frozen. So the extended family had known about the soul-swap all along. Mom quickly wiped her tears, ushering them into the living room with stiff pleasantries. Meanwhile, Lydia carefully placed the letters into a lockbox, locking it three times. Turning around, Lydia glared at me. "Monica, I'm warning you. If you ever interfere with our letters to Hollie again, you'll regret it." I bit my lip, walking silently into the living room, catching the tail end of the relatives’ conversation. "Honestly, it’s a blessing that stranger is gone," an aunt remarked. "You and Lydia were acting completely possessed." "Exactly," another chimed in. "Remember last year at Grandpa’s eightieth birthday? That girl threw a fit because she didn't like the cake flavor, and Lydia actually demanded Grandpa change his own birthday cake. You didn't stop her—you accused us of bullying the girl! You scared the life out of all of us." "Now that Monica is back, you three can live like a normal family again. That’s what matters." Before the aunt could finish, Lydia stormed out of the hallway. She flipped the glass coffee table, shattering teacups across the floor, and grabbed the relatives by their coats, shoving them toward the door. "Get out! Yes, Hollie is gone, but none of you have the right to talk about her behind her back!" "Hollie is my sister! Nobody gets to say a word against her—nobody!" I had never seen Lydia look so feral, so utterly willing to burn down the world to protect someone. The relatives left in a flurry of muttered curses and slammed doors. Lydia collapsed into tears, then ran out of the apartment. Mom grabbed her purse and chased after her. They didn't come back for three days. For three days, there was not a single text, not a single phone call. No one cared whether I was alive or dead. On the fourth day, Mom and Lydia returned, their hair disheveled, their faces pale—yet their eyes burned with an unsettling, manic fever. "Monica, listen to me," Mom gasped, grabbing both of my hands for the first time since my return. "I found a way through the temporal system to perform a permanent physical exchange! Hollie can come here in her own body, permanently!" Her grip was bruisingly tight. "Monica, this is our only chance. You'll agree to it, won't you?" "We won't leave you over there forever! We just miss Hollie so much. That world has no internet, no electricity—she can't survive there! In three to five years, Lydia and I promise we’ll bring you right back!" "No internet, no electricity. Hollie can't survive there." "Three to five years, we’ll bring you back." Mom’s words were riddled with absurdity. Holt was a native of that ancient realm; living without modern amenities was second nature to him. Mom was simply deluding herself. Yet beneath my chest, my own heart began to pound with wild hope. If I could cross over in my own true physical body... That meant I could truly be Father and Mother’s daughter. I wouldn't have to exist as an anomaly trapped inside someone else’s skin. Suppressing the tremor of excitement in my voice, I asked calmly, "Mom, I agree. But if Hollie’s true self is nothing like what you imagined... will you regret this?" "Never," Lydia answered instantly, stepping forward. "No matter what Hollie looks like, she is my sister." With Lydia’s vow, my mind was settled. After all, Holt was nothing like what they expected. Over the next week, Mom and Lydia were manic with preparation. They coordinated with the temporal conduit and redecorated my bedroom into a pastel princess sanctuary. Naturally, I was kicked out of my room and spent those nights on the living room sofa. I didn't care in the slightest. My mind was consumed entirely by the family waiting on the other side. Holt had claimed he poisoned them—I needed to know if they were safe. The day of the exchange arrived. The temporal conduit drew a shimmering ring of golden light on the living room floor. I stepped into the center. A blinding white pillar of light rose around me, signaling the dimensional tear. As if struck by a sudden pang of conscience, Mom rubbed her hands together nervously. "Monica, just hold on for three to five years. When you return, Mom will make you a huge seafood feast." I smiled. She had forgotten again: I was deathly allergic to shellfish. The one who loved seafood was Hollie. I didn't feel a shred of sadness. I simply closed my eyes. "Father. Mother. Callum. Monica is coming home." A flash of searing light swallowed me, and I vanished from the circle. Lydia leaned forward eagerly, staring into the fading glow, waiting for her beloved sister to appear. A silhouette formed in the haze, growing clearer and broader. When the light dissipated and the figure was fully revealed, the color drained from Lydia’s face. "Who are you? Where is my Hollie?!"
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