Jon stared at the mirror, breath shallow, heart thundering in his chest. But it wasn’t Jon’s face staring back at him anymore. No boyish jaw, no messy dark hair. Instead, reflected in the polished glass was a girl—red hair spilling past her shoulders in a fiery cascade, green eyes wide with shock, freckles dusting her pale cheeks.
Karyn.
It was Karyn’s face.
For a long moment Jon couldn’t even breathe. He lifted a trembling hand toward the mirror, and the reflection copied the gesture. Long fingers, nails neatly trimmed, smooth pale skin instead of his own. The hand brushed over the curve of a cheek that wasn’t his, down to a neck slender and fragile. Then lower.
“No…” Jon whispered, the sound barely audible. He pulled at the loose hospital shirt he wore, tugging the neckline down just enough to see what lay beneath.
A chest. Rounded, soft, unmistakably female.
His chest.
Her chest.
Jon staggered back, almost tripping over the edge of the cot, his lungs fighting for air. “This isn’t—this can’t—”
But it was. The mirror didn’t lie. He looked again, and the body was still there. Curved hips. Long legs. The pale skin of an eighteen-year-old girl in her prime.
The doctor’s calm voice cut through the panic. “Yes, Karyn. You’re seeing the truth at last.”
Jon snapped his gaze toward him, shaking his head furiously. “No, my name is Jon! I was— I was at school, I had a box, a stone, I—”
The doctor smiled, patient but patronizing. “Delusions, Karyn. Fantasies you built to protect yourself from the truth. But now you are beginning to remember who you really are. That’s progress.”
Jon’s mouth went dry. He wanted to argue, to scream, but the weight of the reflection behind him clung to his thoughts like chains. It looked so real. More real than the fractured memories of the wish stone, or his grandfather, or the blue branch in the yard.
The doctor stepped closer, clipboard balanced casually against his arm. “You see her, don’t you? The young woman in the mirror. You feel the hair against your skin, the weight in your chest, the shape of your body. This is you, Karyn. This has always been you.”
Jon swallowed hard. Against his will, his hands drifted downward, tracing the line of the hospital gown, feeling the subtle curve of his hips. He touched bare skin—smooth, warm, alien. Not Jon’s skin. Hers.
His throat tightened. “So… all the memories I have… of being Jon. Of school. Of my grandfather. Karyn was just my friend. That wasn’t—” His voice cracked. “That wasn’t real?”
The doctor’s smile softened, as though he were soothing a frightened child. “Some pieces were real. Fragments of memory you borrowed and reshaped. But most of it was fantasy. A world you built so you didn’t have to face your grief.”
Jon felt dizzy. “Grief?”
The doctor gave a slow nod. “The accident. The honeymoon. You and Jon, married and in love, setting out for a bright future. And then… the crash. You lost the child, Karyn. And your husband couldn’t bear it. He… took his own life.”
“No.” Jon—Karyn—shook her head violently, the red hair flying in every direction. “That can’t be true! I would never—Jon would never—”
But the words tangled together. His denial was weaker this time, fraying at the edges. Because hadn’t he wished for something interesting to happen? Hadn’t everything spun out of control after that? Maybe the stone had twisted his life into this nightmare. Or maybe the stone itself had been nothing but a dream.
The doctor nodded to the massive orderly, Victor. “Take the mirror away.”
Victor obeyed, the reflection vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Jon—Karyn—almost lunged after it, desperate to see the face again, to prove it wasn’t real. But the door clanged shut, leaving her in the sterile white room with the doctor’s measured gaze.
“This is good,” the doctor said quietly. “Very good. You’re starting to see who you really are. That’s the first step toward healing. If you keep this progress up, Karyn, you could be out of here within a week.”
Karyn. The name echoed in her mind like a hammer striking stone.
Jon clenched her fists. “But I don’t have her memories. I don’t… I don’t remember being Karyn. I only remember being Jon.”
“That will come,” the doctor assured her, scribbling on his clipboard. “Memory is a fragile thing. Sometimes it needs time to realign with the truth. For now, just let yourself accept what your senses are telling you. Your body. Your reflection. They don’t lie.”
Jon—no, Karyn—stared down at herself again, her hands brushing her own arms as though confirming she was real. Smooth skin. Slender wrists. Even her voice, when she whispered aloud, sounded different. Higher, lighter. Feminine.
The doctor snapped his clipboard shut. “Don’t concern yourself with the past for now. Focus on today, and tomorrow. You’re safe here. You’ll have everything you need. And when you’re ready to leave, well…” He smiled in a way that felt too polished, too rehearsed. “Jon had a good life insurance policy. For a young woman like you, it’s more money than you could ever spend. You won’t have to work a day in your life, Karyn. Everything is taken care of.”
Karyn’s stomach twisted. Something about the way he said it felt wrong—like he was reminding her of a debt she didn’t remember incurring. But before she could argue, he gestured to Victor.
“Take Miss Karyn back to her room. She’s had a very eye-opening day.”
The orderly’s heavy hand rested on her shoulder. Not roughly, but firmly enough that she knew resistance was useless. Her body felt light, unsteady, and her mind was a storm of half-truths and impossible memories. She let herself be guided back into the corridor, down the sterile hallways, past closed doors where other patients no doubt wrestled with their own broken realities.
As the door of her padded cell closed behind her once more, Karyn sat down on the cot, knees drawn to her chest. Her thoughts spun in circles.
Maybe the doctor is right. Maybe I really am Karyn. Maybe Jon was just a dream I made up, a fantasy to escape the pain.
But another voice inside her whispered darker possibilities.
Or maybe this is the wish. Maybe I wished for something interesting, and the stone twisted everything, tearing me out of my life and into this. Maybe they’re lying to me, trying to convince me of something that isn’t true. Maybe Jon is still real. Maybe I am still Jon.
She buried her face in her knees. Her body didn’t feel like her own, and yet it responded to every movement, every breath. If this was a dream, it was too sharp, too vivid.
For now, she realized, the only option was to play along. Pretend to believe. Nod and smile at the doctor’s reassurances. Wait. Watch. Gather clues.
If she really was Karyn, then acceptance might bring peace. But if she wasn’t—if the wish stone was still out there—then pretending might be the only way to get out of this place alive.
Her throat tightened with a lump of dread, but she forced herself to whisper into the silence of her room.
“I’ll go along with it. For now.”
The words felt like surrender. But deep inside, another thought smoldered like a hidden ember:
When the time comes, I’ll find the truth. One way or another
