The energy in the house had shifted ever since that day Juno made cocoa #3. Aaron had changed. Not in any dramatic, glaring way, but in the small, significant details. When they got home that evening, the winter savory cocoa still warm in Juno’s tumbler, he completely ignored her.

  Three days passed, and he still wouldn’t talk to her. He’d pass by without a word, or give her a look that felt like he was measuring her, watching her.

  It wasn’t just Juno who noticed the shift. Anna and Mark commented on it a few times when they got home after work. It wasn’t that Aaron was being rude exactly; it was more like he had simply become distant.

  Whenever they had a family meal or were all in the living room together during the evenings, Aaron’s attention was never on her. He’d stare at his phone or look deeply into the fireplace, trying to avoid acknowledging her presence entirely.

  The conversations between him and their parents were short, clipped, and when Juno tried to join in, it felt like she was intruding.

  “Everything okay with you two?” Anna asked one evening, just after Juno had made cocoa #6. It was a simple recipe this time, but as she took a sip, the warmth quickly faded from her stomach when she felt Anna’s gaze shift.

  They were all in the living room, the only light coming from the flickering fireplace. Mark was absorbed in a book, while Anna sat next to him, her expression tight with concern.

  Juno cradled her mug, the sweet, honeyed cocoa lingering on her lips, but it wasn’t enough to settle the uneasy knot in her stomach.

  Aaron, as usual since Juno became Celia, was tucked away in a corner armchair, keeping his distance. He had a school notebook open in his lap, though the pen he held remained unmoving, his attention clearly elsewhere.

  Anna put down her reading glasses and glanced at both of her children. “You guys usually talk more than this.”

  Juno felt that familiar twinge of guilt and anxiety. She smiled awkwardly, her grip on the green mug tightening. “Yeah, I’m just, you know, a little out of it lately.”

  But Anna wasn’t convinced. Mark, too, had thrown a glance at Aaron. “You sure everything’s good?” he pressed.

  Aaron looked up and shrugged, his face devoid of any clear emotion. “It’s fine, Dad. We’re good. Just... tired, I guess.”

  That had been the extent of it. No further questions, but the atmosphere in the house had felt heavy after that.

  Juno couldn’t help but wonder if Aaron knew something was off. If he suspected something about her. She hated how self-conscious it made her feel.

  Despite trying to stay normal, trying to keep up appearances, Juno couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach. She was starting to feel more out of place in Celia’s life than ever.

  Every time she did something that Celia would have done, Aaron would just watch her, waiting for her to slip. And every time she got a detail wrong or answered a question like herself instead of like Celia, he was there, looking at her with that distant, calculating gaze.

  It wasn’t just Aaron. She felt it with everyone. It was like she was walking on a tightrope, terrified she was going to fall at any moment.

  Still, she pressed on. She tried to make the cocoa every morning, as Celia would have wanted. No matter what, Project 365 had to continue. She felt too afraid to wonder what would happen if she missed a day.

  It was becoming a routine now. The cocoa was comforting in a strange, nostalgic way, even if it wasn’t her habit. But there was something about it that unsettled her. The daily act of making it was a constant reminder that she wasn’t Celia, that she was pretending.

  And pretending was beginning to feel more and more like an act she couldn’t keep up for much longer.

  This morning was no different. It had been over a week now since she became Celia. The scent of cocoa filled the kitchen as Juno carefully stirred in cocoa #8, trying to lose herself in the motion.

  Her fingers were steady as she poured the hot liquid into a mug, but her heart wasn’t. She felt Aaron’s presence before she even heard him. She could feel him walking into the room, his steps heavier than usual.

  Juno didn’t look up. She focused on the mug in her hands, trying to steady herself.

  “Cocoa again?” Aaron’s voice was low, flat. No greeting. No warmth.

  She felt the weight of his words settle in her chest. “Yeah,” she replied, a bit too quickly. “I—uh, I like to make it, I guess.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The silence between them thickened. She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. His gaze was sharp, seeing right through her.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, just leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed. His posture was stiff and defensive. When he finally spoke, his voice was so casual it felt like a punch.

  “You’re acting weird.”

  Juno’s heart skipped, her breath catching in her throat. She forced herself to turn around, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Um, okay? I’m just making cocoa. Again. Some of us have hobbies.”

  But Aaron didn’t smile. He just stared at her. There it was again, that look in his eyes. Shivers rushed down Juno’s spine.

  “You’ve been... different,” he said, his voice flat. “For a while now.”

  Juno froze, her stomach sinking. She couldn’t hide the growing anxiety bubbling up inside her. “What do you mean?” she stammered, but her words sounded weak, even to her own ears.

  Aaron didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just took a step closer, his eyes not leaving hers. His expression was unreadable, but his voice cut through the silence like a knife.

  “I saw you yesterday after school, struggling in front of your locker. For some reason you forgot your locker combination,” he said, as though it was nothing. “You’ve had the same one since ninth grade, Celia. You’ve had it memorized for years.”

  Juno’s heart sank. Celia had written down a locker combination in one of her journals, but it wasn’t just one—there were three. And none of them mentioned which one she’d last used.

  For some strange reason, ever since Juno had slipped into Celia’s life, her locker had been mysteriously open, empty even. But yesterday, the locks had been changed. Juno had spent the next thirty minutes frantically trying to get it open.

  Aaron had been watching the whole time?

  “Remember when you got grounded for sneaking out to that improv show a couple months back?” he asked, his eyes now narrowing slightly, watching her reaction closely. “You cried in dad’s car. You were so sure he was gonna hate you for getting caught. You kept apologizing, saying you didn’t mean to screw everything up.”

  Juno’s blood ran cold. That wasn’t her memory. It wasn’t her at all. She stood there, dumbfounded, the mug slipping slightly in her hands.

  Her mind went blank as she stared at Aaron, who was now studying her more intently than ever before.

  “I... I—” Juno stumbled over her words. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t explain. She didn’t know.

  Aaron leaned against the doorframe, his gaze heavy as he watched her. For a moment, Juno thought he was just going to leave, but then his voice cut through the quiet, softer than she expected.

  “You’ve changed,” he said, his words slow and measured.

  Juno stiffened, unsure how to respond, but he kept going, his words feeling more fragile as he spoke.

  “You’re not... you’re not like you used to be. You used to talk all the time. Always had something to say, something to joke about. You used to make fun of me for the stupidest things, but it was fun, you know?”

  He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking down at the ground before meeting her eyes again. “It feels like something's missing now. Like... like the Celia I knew is gone.”

  Juno stood frozen, the mug in her hands, feeling the weight of it like a leaden ball. She had no idea how to respond to him, no idea how to tell him that the Celia he missed could still be here, somewhere deep inside her.

  But that wasn’t Juno. Celia was still a stranger that she couldn’t replace.

  Aaron sighed, his shoulders slumping. “And the cocoa... You always made it a certain way. Special. I could always count on it, y’know?”

  His lips twisted in a faint, sad smile. “I don’t even know why it was so important, but it was. You never make it the same now. It’s like—” He stopped, looking away for a moment, gathering himself. “I miss the way it used to be. The way you used to be.”

  Juno felt a lump form in her throat, and before she could stop herself, she walked towards him and silently handed him the mug full of cocoa.

  He took it quietly, his fingers brushing hers for a brief moment, and he brought it to his lips. The silence stretched between them, but he didn’t drink it immediately.

  Instead, he just stared at the cocoa, his face unreadable. Finally, he took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers, and for the first time since this whole body swap nightmare began, Juno saw something different to that analytical look it always had.

  This time, all she saw was pain.

  “Thanks,” he said softly, and Juno’s heart cracked. He looked at her with such sadness that it felt like the air had been knocked out of her. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even disappointed. But the weight of his longing, the ache in his eyes, settled deep in her chest.

  “I miss you, Celia,” he continued, his voice breaking just a little. “I miss my little sister. I don’t know... I don’t know if you’re just growing up or if I’m missing something, but I miss who you were.” He let out a quiet breath and turned away, but not before his words sank deep into Juno’s skin. “You’ve changed. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing. That’s all.”

  And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Juno standing there with the mug still in her hands.

  The kitchen felt smaller now, the silence suffocating. The warmth of the cocoa in her hands, now felt like it was pressing against her chest, making it harder to breathe.

  She stood there for a long moment, staring at the mug, her chest tight, her throat dry.

  The guilt hit her all at once, crashing over her..He knew. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew something was wrong. Somehow she fooled everyone but him.

  Her hands trembled as she placed the mug down on the counter, the soft clink of it echoing in the empty room.

  Juno stumbled away from the counter, her legs shaky, her mind a whirl of confusion and fear. She needed to escape, even if only for a little while.

  Without another thought, she rushed down the hall, her heart racing. She didn’t even bother to close the door as she rushed into the bathroom, her eyes blurring as the tears finally came.

  She let them fall one after another as she sat on the cold floor, the weight of everything crashing down on her in that small, quiet room.

  For the first time since everything had changed, she allowed herself to feel it. The guilt, the sadness, the loneliness.

  And as the tears streamed down her face, all she could think was that in her desperation to act like nothing had changed, she had broken something she wasn’t sure could ever be fixed.