Chapter 1
12:42
I’m supposed to be an emotionally stable capybara, but I’ve been dropped into the body of a tragic wife, complete with all her bag-
gage–every last ounce of her heartbreak.
Her husband, Jack, dotes on his childhood sweetheart, Sophia. Even their son, Tim, dreams of Sophia becoming his new mother.
This is great. I don’t want to do anything, anyway.
So when Jack gets a call late at night and tries to sneak out, I don’t make a scene. Instead, while clutching the phantom ache in my
chest, I calmly hand him his coat.
1
The sound of Jack’s voice, hushed and urgent, pulled me from sleep.
He was tiptoeing out of bed, his voice a low murmur of concern for the woman on the other end of the line–his precious Sophia.
He slipped on his clothes, grabbed his car keys, and made a beeline for the door.
“Wait.”
The sound of my voice froze him in his tracks. He turned, a flicker of annoyance crossing his handsome features.
“Sophia’s alone,” he began, his tone already defensive. “The power’s out, and I-”
“Put on your coat before you go,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s cold out.”
His irritation morphed into stunned disbelief. He stared at me for a long moment, as if seeing a stranger. But I just turned away,
listless, gently rubbing the ache in my chest that wasn’t truly mine.
Seeing that I wasn’t gearing up for the usual tear–filled fight, Jack’s expression softened. He walked back to the bed and pressed a
quick, dutiful kiss to my forehead.
“Don’t be difficult, Erika. I’ll be back soon.”
I nodded, feeling nothing but the relentless throb in my heart, which now seemed to be intensifying.
The click of the front door was my cue. I dragged myself out of bed and swallowed a painkiller. It was a futile gesture, more for
psychological comfort than any real relief.
It’s been two months since the original Erika tried to end her life, paving the way for my arrival. This late–night drama with Jack
was routine. I was too tired to be angry. For a capybara, anger is just too much trouble.
Even if I am cursed with her memories and her pain.
The feeling, or lack thereof, persisted the next morning. I’d woken up early to make breakfast for our son, Tim. He took one look at
the oatmeal I’d prepared and wrinkled his nose in disgust, scraping the bowl’s contents directly into the trash.
“Mom, I’ve told you a million times, I want pancakes for breakfast! Sophia always remembers. Why can’t you?” His disdain was writ-
ten all over his face.
I should have been furious. I should have felt a pang of hurt.
Instead, I just picked up my own bowl and slowly ate my oatmeal.
“Then you should go ask her to make you breakfast.”
Tim, who had been ready to launch into a full–blown tirade, choked on his next words. My quiet suggestion, meant to be helpful,
landed like a venomous dart.
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12:42
12:42
Chapter 1
His face crumpled, and he burst into tears. With a furious swipe of his arm, he sent his own empty bowl and silverware crashing to
the floor.
“You’re a bad mom! A horrible mom!” he wailed, his voice echoing through the cavernous villa. “Why did Daddy have to marry you? I
I want Sophia to be my mom!”
I continued to eat my oatmeal, calmly turning away from the mess. Capybaras don’t do drama. Not interfering was the best I could
offer.
My lack of reaction only fueled his tantrum. He swept everything within his reach off the table, the sound of shattering porcelain
filling the air.
Children have a cruel, innate understanding of how to inflict the deepest wounds. “No wonder Daddy like
he screamed between sobs.
more than you!”
I ignored him, though the phantom pain in my chest was becoming unbearable. I set down my bowl, moved to the living room cou- ch, and turned on the morning news. It was my primary way of understanding this world; smartphones were a labyrinth of complex- ity I had yet to master. Two months in, and I could barely send a text message. The television was so much simpler.
“What is going on in here?”
2
Jack stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage in the dining room.
Tim, spotting his father, immediately ran to him, a fresh wave of sobs racking his small body as he tattled on my supposed morni-
ng–of–terror.
Jack, who clearly hadn’t been home all night, scooped him up and stormed over to me, his face a mask of fury.
“It was just a little outburst, Erika. He’s a child. Did you have to be so cruel? What if he cries himself sick? If you can’t handle some- thing this simple, then maybe you shouldn’t be looking after him at all.”
i gave a slight nod, my eyes still fixed on the television screen.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he seethed. “Don’t think playing the silent treatment is going to work. One more incident like this,
and I’m asking Sophia to move in.”
“Okay,” I said.
Jack’s rage intensified. “Fine,” he snapped, his jaw tight. “You said it. Don’t you dare regret it.”
As if afraid I’d change my mind, he immediately pulled out his phone and started dialing. While he was on the phone, a news report
caught my eye. It was about a spectacular firework display at the city’s largest amusement park.
“Last night at midnight,” the cheerful anchor announced, “Ashton City’s largest theme park was exclusively booked by Jack Kartali-
an, CEO of Kartalian Corporation. Mr. Kartalian had the park’s entire fireworks inventory set off in a single, breathtaking display to
woo his sweetheart. The two were seen in a tender embrace, a truly enviable picture of romance.”
