The lunch bell rang, but Ethan didn't move right away.
He was still Lily now — pale hands, delicate steps, long hair that danced in the breeze when he walked. It had been almost three months since the switch… but some mornings, he still expected to wake up with his rough hands and tired muscles.
Today wasn't one of those days.
"Come on," Mira said, tugging gently on his sleeve. "Roof. It's quieter."
He followed her up the stairs, not trusting himself to speak. Mira had been close to Lily — the real Lily — when they were younger. Ethan wasn't sure if Mira saw him now or if she just saw her friend returned from the brink. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure what he saw in the mirror.
The rooftop was calm. The wind whispered through the railing, stirring the hem of his skirt. Mira sat down cross-legged and unpacked her lunchbox like it was any normal day, but her eyes kept flicking toward him.
"You're not okay," she said gently.
Ethan didn't answer right away. He lowered himself onto the ground, careful not to stumble. His body still protested movement sometimes — weak muscles learning strength again, each step a reminder of the miracle that shouldn't have happened.
"It's just… a lot," he muttered.
Mira's brow furrowed. "The boys? The stares?"
He nodded slowly.
"You were always quiet," she said. "But now? You're… different."
His heart skipped. The word lodged deep.
Different.
Wrong.
Mira was watching him too closely now, her tone softer. "Lily used to be timid, shy. You… you look like her, but you don't act like her. Not anymore."
Ethan froze.
She wasn't accusing. Not yet. But she was close. Too close.
"…People change," he said finally, voice just above a whisper.
"I guess," Mira said. "But this feels deeper. Like someone flipped a switch in your soul."
He looked down at his hands — Lily's hands — small, smooth, and so unfamiliar despite living in them for months.
And then Mira said something that made his chest tighten.
"You're stronger now. I don't know what happened to you, Lily, but it feels like you've been given a second life."
Ethan swallowed hard.
He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't say, "Lily gave me her life. I didn't deserve it. She traded her last breath for mine."
Instead, he whispered, "I have been."
Mira looked at him for a moment, then scooted closer, her voice softer than ever.
"For what it's worth… I always thought you were pretty. But now? You're more than that. You're powerful in a way that makes people notice. And honestly, it suits you."
The word pretty echoed strangely in Ethan's mind. It didn't belong to him — not really. But hearing it from Mira, a friend from a life he'd never lived, it stung less than he expected.
And then she said something that hit deeper than anything else.
"Whoever you are now… I like her."
Ethan stared at her.
For a moment, silence hung between them — stretched by unspoken truths and the weight of everything he couldn't say.
"I'll… try not to waste it," he said finally, barely above a whisper.
Mira smiled, satisfied.
As the wind tugged at his hair and the bell rang again in the distance, Ethan — inside Lily — realized something:
He wasn't sure who he was supposed to become.
But maybe… just maybe… this version of Lily was someone worth learning to be.