The guests were gone.
The house was quiet, lit only by the flickering warmth of a hallway lamp. Celeste was in the kitchen rinsing out wine glasses, humming softly under her breath. Her back was to Maureen.
Maureen stood by the table, staring at the empty teacup in front of her.
Rooibos.
That's what she said it was. She had offered to make Celeste a calming herbal blend before bed—something comforting. Something familiar.
But she'd added a small ingredient no one else knew Celeste was violently allergic to.
Just a trace.
Not enough to kill. Just enough to wake a memory.
To expose her.
To remind her body who she was.
But… nothing.
Celeste had sipped the tea with ease. No coughing. No itching. No panic. She even asked for a second cup.
Maureen's hands curled around the edge of the table.
It didn't make sense.
She had watched Celeste in school flare up after one bite of almond-laced chocolate. She remembered the rash crawling up her neck. The frantic nurse. The injection. The panic.
And now—nothing?
Maureen's throat went dry.
She looked toward the kitchen, where Celeste stood humming. Carefree. Beautiful. Alive.
Too alive.
Her stomach turned.
What if… that's not her?
What if this was some lookalike, some project the family pulled together to hide the truth? Maybe this girl was just a placeholder. A comfort story.
A cover.
She forced herself to speak.
"You look… happy."
Celeste turned, smiling, drying her hands on a towel. "It's been a nice night."
Maureen's voice was tight. "Do you remember when you were allergic to almonds?"
Celeste blinked. "Allergic?"
Maureen tilted her head. "Yeah. You had that big episode in Year 10. At Fola's party."
Celeste frowned slightly. "Huh… I don't think so. Maybe you're mistaking me for someone else."
She laughed lightly. "Almonds are fine for me."
Maureen's stomach dropped.
She gave a hollow smile. "Right… must've been someone else."
Celeste walked away, still humming.
And Maureen just stood there, frozen.
If that's not her…
Then who the hell is living in Celeste's skin?
The guests were gone.
The house was quiet, lit only by the flickering warmth of a hallway lamp. Celeste was in the kitchen rinsing out wine glasses, humming softly under her breath. Her back was to Maureen.
Maureen stood by the table, staring at the empty teacup in front of her.
Rooibos.
That's what she said it was. She had offered to make Celeste a calming herbal blend before bed—something comforting. Something familiar.
But she'd added a small ingredient no one else knew Celeste was violently allergic to.
Just a trace.Enough to end her life right here and there.
But… nothing.
Celeste had sipped the tea with ease. No coughing. No itching. No panic. She even asked for a second cup.
Maureen's hands curled around the edge of the table.
It didn't make sense.
She had watched Celeste in school flare up after one bite of almond-laced chocolate. She remembered the rash crawling up her neck. The frantic nurse. The injection. The panic.
And now—nothing?
Maureen's throat went dry.
She looked toward the kitchen, where Celeste stood humming. Carefree. Beautiful. Alive.
Too alive.
Her stomach turned.
What if… that's not her?
What if this was some lookalike, some project the family pulled together to hide the truth? Maybe this girl was just a placeholder. A comfort story.
A cover.
She forced herself to speak.
"You look… happy."
Celeste turned, smiling, drying her hands on a towel. "It's been a nice night."
Maureen's voice was tight. "Do you remember when you were allergic to almonds?"
Celeste blinked. "Allergic?"
Maureen tilted her head. "Yeah. You had that big episode in Year 10. At Fola's party."
Celeste frowned slightly. "Huh… I don't think so. Maybe you're mistaking me for someone else."
She laughed lightly. "Almonds are fine for me."
Maureen's stomach dropped.
She gave a hollow smile. "Right… must've been someone else."
Celeste walked away, still humming.
And Maureen just stood there, frozen.
If that's not her…
Then who the hell is living in Celeste's skin?