Chapter 1: Introduction
The first thing I noticed was the scent—sterile, sharp, like the inside of a brand-new car mixed with something medicinal. My eyelids felt heavy, as if they’d been glued shut, but I forced them open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. The ceiling above me was a dull, institutional white, and the hum of machinery filled the air. *Hospital.* The thought flickered through my mind before I even registered the IV drip taped to my arm or the thin, scratchy blanket draped over my body.
I tried to lift my hand to rub my eyes, but something felt… *wrong.* My fingers were slender, the nails painted a soft, glossy pink.
My skin was smooth, warm—*feminine*—but the memory of my own hands, calloused and strong, still lingered beneath the surface, like a ghost pressing against my ribs. I exhaled sharply, my breath hitching as I realized: *I was a woman.*
My chest rose and fell beneath the thin hospital gown, the fabric clinging to curves I didn’t remember owning. My breasts were full, heavy, the nipples already stiffening at the slightest touch—even the brush of the blanket against them. I pressed my thighs together, a sharp, unfamiliar ache blossoming between my legs.
My body was *mine*, but it was also *not mine*—a betrayal of every instinct I’d ever had. I could feel the dampness of my arousal already seeping through the thin cotton of the gown, the heat between my thighs so intense it made me gasp. *What the fuck?* I thought, my fingers twitching toward the waistband of my underwear, only to freeze. *What if I touch myself? What if I like it?*
The door creaked open, and a nurse in blue scrubs stepped inside, her clipboard held firmly under her arm. She was young, maybe early thirties, with dark circles under her eyes and a permanent frown.
She didn’t even look up as she stepped in, her gaze fixed on the chart in her hands. "You’re awake," she said, her voice flat, like she’d been expecting me to wake up at any minute and was disappointed I hadn’t.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Yeah," I rasped. "Or something."
She finally glanced up, her eyes scanning me with the same detached professionalism she’d used on every other patient. "Name?"
I couldn't say Raj. I didn't know whose body I was in.
I didn't know who I was supposed to be. I only knew that my voice, when it came out, was higher, softer than I remembered it being.
"Diya," I said, testing the name on my tongue. It felt like a lie, like a costume someone had thrown over me in the middle of the night. The nurse blinked at me, her eyebrows shooting up.
"Diya," she repeated. "That's new."
I shifted beneath the blanket, my body betraying me with a sharp, unwanted throb between my thighs. The nurse's eyes flickered down for just a second—long enough for me to see the way her gaze lingered on my chest, the way her lips parted slightly.