CHAPTER THREE: THE SWITCH

ELLA

"You should not be standing there." The man from earlier walked in and stood behind me. Close enough to feel his warmth but far enough so he did not spook me.

"Why not?" I asked, turning to him with my eyes wide.

"Because it is the first time you woke up in three months..."

"I was in a coma?" He nodded in response, and I cleared my throat. I could ask questions since the doctor said it was confusing, but how long before they found out that it was not Jaelle they spoke about? "What happened to me? How did I end up in a coma?"

My question made his face drop, and his lips tightened as he tried to avoid my eyes. "Did you..."

"No, no, no," he waved his hand in the air, eyes darting. "I did not, but maybe I did. I should have been there with you that night and not..." He stopped himself and then closed the gap between us. The scent of his perfume filled my nose, familiar but still distant. He held my hand and dragged me to the bed.

"Let us talk about this later, when you are much better." I wanted to tell him that I was okay to talk about whatever. I had a lot to think about. How did I get into this body, and how do I leave? What if I couldn't leave? Then I had to learn how to survive in this body.

"You need to rest."

"I have been resting for three months." Her voice sounded like a song to my ears.

"Yes, but..."

"Can you at least tell me a few things? How did I end up in a coma?"

"Not now," his voice sounded forced as he looked away once again, pulling the covers over my body. "We can talk about it later..."

"Jaelle?" A woman with hair in a high ponytail burst into the room and marched to the door with a tear-streaked face and more lining the inside of her eyes. "Oh my goodness!"

The man stood up and let her through; she pulled me up and hugged me tightly. "I was so worried; this is a miracle," she murmured as her grip on me tightened with every second. "Thank goodness," she added under her breath.

I pulled away and looked at her strangely. "What is wrong?" She leaned in as if she recognised that something was wrong just in that moment. "Are you okay? Is..."

"The doctor said it is some post-coma confusion, and she should be okay soon," the man offered to explain. I was grateful because I had no idea how to explain.

"Are you saying that she has no idea who I am?" She pointed to herself, and I shook my head, shrugging. Her finger trailed to the man standing behind her, and I shook my head. "Ah!" she gasped, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes grew wider than before.

"Elle? Do you not remember me?"

"Elle?" I murmured as if I was learning to call myself that. "Is my name not Jaelle? Why are you suddenly calling me...?"

"It's true," she gasped as tears ran down her face again. "Elle? You asked me to call you that until the day we died. Did you suddenly forget, or are you messing with me?" Violent sobs followed her words. She sniffed, trying to control her tears, as we wiped off the mascara-streaked tears with the back of her hand.

"Don't worry, I am going to stay with you until you recover." She held my hand and rubbed it gently. A phone buzzed gently; he took it out of his pocket and looked up at me.

"I have to go see Mother; she is downstairs." His shoulders slumped as he gently rubbed his temples, and without another word, he left.

"He doesn't sound too pleased to see his mom," I murmured. She patted my head gently, and when I looked at her, I was almost moved to tears.

"If you had your memory, you'd be sad that she came here as well."

"What do you mean? What does he have to do with me?"

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"I do not remember anything," I lied, but not because I wanted to. If I told her that I saw my best friend in sheets with my boyfriend, what would she think of that? Was she even going to believe my words?

"Okay, I am Anya, your best friend." Too nice, too good, the kind of friend who hid a knife behind a smile. A best friend? I am sure she was going to stab me in the back the next chance she would get. "And he is Bastina Montrose, your husband."

"My husband?" My voice croaked as I shook my head. My hand pressed to the middle of my chest as my throat bobbed violently. "I am not married..." I stopped. I was married here, in the body of whoever this woman was. I was married.

The door opened, and a woman in a buzzcut stood there; she stepped in, and the air of the room shifted with every step she took. She was dressed in a black dress with white collars and sleeves that went all the way to her ankles. Her face was neatly done with makeup; red lipstick was bold enough as a statement. Her lips puckered in a pout.

"And that is your mother-in-law. Lady Eleanor Montrose..." Anya whispered, her mouth slightly grazing my ears as she moved to sit beside me and held my shoulders in comfort.

"I heard that you survived the fall, so I had to come see for myself." Her voice was tight, and she was not even trying to hide the fact that she did not like that I was awake.

"You have a fighting spirit," she added, her nose up in the air as if something stank in the room, and then added in the most accusatory voice ever. "For the wrong things only." Her eyes crawled all over my body in assessment.

"I am sorry," the words slip out before I can stop them, like a reflex from years of learning to swallow the blame.

"At least you still know your place," she added, and I whimpered with a nod.

"Mom, don't you think you are being too..."

"Bastina," she whipped her head to him, standing behind her with his hand in his pocket and a worried expression on his face. "I did not take care of you to end up with someone like her, and I truly wish that she had left this time; at least your life would get back on track."

"I have told you countless times that you do not have the right to speak to my wife like that."

"I am your mom, and I have every right!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. Something bubbled on the inside of me, and before I could stop the words from coming out of my mouth, I already saw the startled expression on Eleanor's face.

"But does being a mother allow you to wish death on others?" The room froze in response as her nostrils flared.

"How...how...d...dare...how dare you?" She stuttered as she tried to find her footing.

"I think it is time for you tto go." Bastina held her hand and pulled her out of the room as she whimpered and let out shrieks in protest.

"Jaelle? You..." Anya's widened eyes haunted me. Was I about to ruin the peaceful life of Jaelle Montrose, or was I her salvation?