The Wrong Woman

9. Mouna

Cracking open my heavy lids felt like I had been asleep for centuries. The warmth I was relishing in wasn't grandma. It was the soft, white quilt covers that I had scrunched up to hug.

Soft, white quilt? I thought. Did Mohi change our thin, orange-coloured blanket?

Slowly, I tried to push myself up, shutting my eyes as the light from the window was too much to bear. Wait, window? Our room didn't have a window. We only have a yellow bulb in the ceiling. My head pounded. My body ached. And my stomach roiled as a wave of nausea hit me.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach—which suddenly felt really thin—and bent over. I sat there for a few seconds, letting myself get accustomed to this strange feeling. Then I opened my eyes again and blinked away the white stars in my vision.

It wasn't until everything became clear that I froze. My legs were hair-free and tan, completely different to my hairy chai-painted legs. My fingernails were polished and painted purple and I had...I picked at a strand over my shoulder. Wavy, honey-coloured hair?

This is a dream! I thought, my heart thudding in my throat. Hearing a mumble, I turned my head to the left to see that there was a man beside me. A fully grown man with skin the colour of golden sand, a thin, shaped beard and thick, wavy locks.

What was he doing in my house? No, not my house but...what am I doing here? Who—what? My thoughts were jumbled and my body, frozen. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. Only when the man's arm came to rest around my legs did I panic.

I screamed, as loud as I could muster, shoved his arm off and ran to the corner of the room. Even the room, as I glanced around, was not mine. The walls were too wide and painted white, the carpet was soft and grey. This place was not my own. It was too big and too bright. I was in a completely different house! Had I been kidnapped? I tried to think about what happened at work or even after...but nothing would come to mind.

Why can't I remember? I thought to myself. Think, Mouna! Think!

My scream must have woken the stranger from his sleep because he groaned and sat up, holding his head. His dark hair stuck up in random places, but the majority of it flopped into his eyes. It looked fluffier and silkier than my own hair.

My own hair that wasn't my own. I picked up a strand and studied it again; it was not curly. It was straight and wavy all at the same time. Hair that I can only imagine celebrities would have. And my fingers? Perfectly looked after and so beautiful.

"What's the matter?" came the croaky, deep voice of the man. I nearly fainted. Speaking to Dr. Arshan was already hard, now I was sleeping next to an unknown man in an unknown house? Had he dyed my hair when I was asleep? And possibly waxed my legs in the process?

Now you're being silly, I told myself. I needed some sort of explanation! Where was my grandma?!

Tears pricked the back of my eyes, my chest caving in. "I-I don't know," I said, voice shaky. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The man was now alert. His oval-shaped brown eyes were glued to me. I gulped at the way he studied me, thick brows furrowed, making him look angry. I got ready to run when he stood up and walked over to me, bending down a little.

"What's going on?" He reached out to grab my arms but I cowered away from his touch. He didn't seem so bothered by that. He let his hands fall but the concerned expression was still on his face. "What happened last night?"

"I...I don't know. I don't know how I got here and where I am and—"

"Hey, it's okay." His warm, velvety voice allowed me to stop for a few seconds. "Take a deep breath." I did as was told, even though I did not have any idea as to who he was. "And out. There we go."

"Where am I, sir?"

His furrow only got deeper. "Did you hit your head?" I opened my mouth but then he beat me to it, "Don't answer that. You said you didn't remember." I watched as he licked his bow-shaped lips. "Here, come sit down." I sat down on the corner of the bed, as far away from him as I could manage. He didn't question it, thankfully. "I'm going to call a GP, all right? Maybe you fell down last night and you can't remember. It would be best if we get it checked out."

We? I didn't know who he was. How could I trust anything he said?

"You didn't say who you were. Or where I am." Or how this happened, I thought.

"You're at home, Rani."

Rani? Home? The sensation of bile rising up my throat came over me again, but I swallowed it down.

"Wh-where is the bathroom?" I couldn't tell what expression he had on his face. It was hard to read. Was acting like he was a stranger the smart thing to do? Well, I wasn't acting. I didn't know, but I was not in that state of mind to worry about it. I wanted to know if it was what I thought it was. He pointed me in the direction and I raced out of the room as if Satan himself had come out of Hell and chased after me.

I closed my eyes and counted down from three before looking at the mirror. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing would come out. The person looking back at me wasn't Mouna. It was not me.

It was Rani. The TV anchor. The woman I spoke to last night. And I had done the very thing grandma promised not to do.

I had made a wish.