A body that Isn't Mine

So this is heaven?

Because if it is, I’d like to file a complaint.

I open my eyes expecting clouds, soft light, maybe some dramatic background music. Instead, I get white walls, the smell of antiseptic, and a sharp ache ripping through my body like it’s doing disco without my permission.

Ugh. Hospital.

I hate hospitals.

Every bone in my body protests as I groan and try to move. Honestly, it would have been more considerate if I had just died. This feels personal.

With a lot of effort and very little dignity, I manage to sit up. My head spins. My body feels unfamiliar, heavy, wrong. I scan the room, expecting my family to burst in at any moment.

No one.

I sigh. Maybe they went out to eat. Mama would never leave for long. She worries like it’s a competitive sport.

The door suddenly bursts open.

“Oh! Thank God you didn’t die, Shanaya!” a beautiful woman rushes in, eyes wide with relief. “You really have a way of making me worried.”

I stare at her.

Hard.

Because either she just called me by the wrong name… or I’ve officially lost my mind.

“…Excuse me?” I say slowly. “Who are you? And who is Shanaya?”

Her face drains of color.

She looks at me like I just sprouted horns.

“Memory loss,” she whispers in horror, then spins around and runs out.

I blink.

What the hell is happening to me?

A few minutes later, she returns with a doctor. The doctor gives me a long, professional look, like I’m a puzzle he didn’t sign up for.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply immediately. “An accident.”

“Do you remember who you are?”

“Of course,” I say, offended. “I’m Vaani Gupta.”

The doctor hums thoughtfully. “Post-traumatic amnesia.”

“What?” the woman asks sharply.

“It can occur after a severe head injury,” he explains calmly. “Especially after a coma. Memory loss. Personality changes.”

“So… she doesn’t remember who she is?” the woman asks, her voice trembling.

The doctor shakes his head, scribbles something, and leaves like this is just another Tuesday.

The woman sits beside me on the bed and takes my hand gently.

“You’re Shanaya Rajput,” she says softly. “I’m your elder sister. Akriti Rajput.”

I yank my hand back.

“What?” I practically shout. “What kind of joke is this? I am Vaani Gupta. My memory is perfectly fine, Ms. Whoever-you-are.”

She holds my hand again, firmer this time. “You’re Shanaya, cupcake.”

Cupcake?

I stare at her, dead serious. “Listen, miss. I don’t know who the hell Shanaya is. Please call my parents.”

I rip off the IV tube, ignoring her gasp, and swing my legs off the bed. I stand up.

Bad idea.

My legs buckle instantly, and I collapse back onto the mattress.

“Cupcake!” she cries, catching me.

And that’s when I see it.

The mirror behind her.

A girl stares back at me.

She’s not me.

Blue eyes. A small nose. A heart-shaped face. Soft features that don’t belong to the girl who grew up stealing her brother’s shirts and burning kitchen listening mama scolding.

I slowly lift my hand.

She does the same.

My breath stutters.

No.

No.

No way in fucking hell.

The woman calling me Shanaya.

This reflection.

This body.

They all point to one terrifying truth.

The universe isn’t playing fair.

It’s playing a joke on me.

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Hi Readers! Hope you like this story. Please vote and comment to support this story as I am a new author starting this journey. Hope you stay throughout this.

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