I was drifting in that hazy space between dreams, habitually trying to roll over, when I felt an unusual lightness.

The weight that had burdened me for months had vanished.


Something was terribly wrong.

My eyes snapped open as I frantically felt my abdomen.

Firm, defined muscles greeted my touch—not an ounce of excess anywhere.


This wasn't my body at all!

I frantically shook the figure sleeping beside me:


"Honey, wake up! My stomach..."

The words died in my throat.

That deep baritone unmistakably belonged to Marcus Mitchell.

The figure beside me stirred and rolled over.

Our eyes locked.

In the soft glow of the hotel suite's night light,

I saw "myself" staring back with an expression of pure horror.

As my own mouth opened to scream,

I lunged forward, clamping my hand over what used to be my mouth.

My former self gestured wildly at the flat abdomen, eyes wide with panic.

Fighting to control my trembling voice, I leaned in and whispered:

"Honey, I think we've switched bodies."

"I know you're freaking out, but we need to keep it together."

"If anyone finds out about this, we'll both end up as lab rats."

Something in my tone must have registered,

because my former self stopped struggling immediately.

I cautiously removed my hand.

Marcus Mitchell, wearing my face, looked up at me with terrified eyes:

"Liv, what the hell do we do now?"

"Did you touch anything strange yesterday?"

My palms were slick with cold sweat,

but I forced myself to appear calm.

I studied Marcus's face—my face—searching for any hint of deception.

His eyes darted away from mine:

"N-nothing out of the ordinary..."

Guilt practically dripped from every syllable,

so obvious even a blind man could spot it.

Just as I opened my mouth to press him further, a sharp knock came at the door:

"Marc, time to hit the set. Director says we're shooting the water scene today."

Without missing a beat, I jumped up and began changing clothes with practiced efficiency.

As I reached for the doorknob,

Marcus lunged forward, grabbing my sleeve in desperation:

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"To film for you, obviously." I replied with a shrug.

Panic flashed across his face as he struggled to heave himself out of bed,

but my six-month pregnant belly made even that simple movement a challenge.

After several failed attempts, he collapsed back, panting heavily.

I rushed to steady him:

"Take it easy. You're six months pregnant, remember?

Relax. I graduated from drama school. No one will suspect a thing.

Just stay here and rest. We'll figure this out when I get back."

Before he could protest, I strode out the door, closing it firmly behind me.

…

I graduated from film academy with honors, always obsessed with acting theory and camera language.

Behind most of Marcus's award-winning performances was my coaching, perfecting every nuance.

When he first started out, facing an improvisation test with a legendary director, he froze completely—couldn't even remember his lines.

I stayed up all night analyzing footage, breaking down character psychology, mapping out emotional pathways for him.

That night, bathed in the projector's glow, I nestled against him, whispering about subtle eye movements and microexpressions.

His eyes shone with admiration: "Damn, Liv. If you were the actress, you'd have a shelf full of Oscars by now."

But I couldn't be.

Then something changed. He stopped sharing scripts, would snap his laptop shut whenever I walked by.

I chalked it up to protecting my "pregnancy sensitivity" until that day I was breaking down his new character arc and he cut me off with a cold:
"Jesus, Liv. Women don't need to be such know-it-alls. Just focus on growing our kid, will you?"

Men and their fragile egos. I get it.

So I shut up.

Today's set visit isn't by choice.

Director Wilson is notorious for blacklisting actors who bail last-minute.

My husband just snagged Best Actor—he can't afford any career hiccups now.

But his reaction this morning was off. Way off.

He seemed less concerned about our body swap and more terrified about me going to set.