Diana stood outside, her breath steadying in the cool evening air. She glanced around, nerves tingling as she calculated her next move. She couldn't stay out here long—not if she wanted to avoid suspicion.
Just then, the sound of the door opening snapped her attention toward the house. It was Daniel, taking out the trash, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving her a signal. Now. This was her chance.
As Daniel stepped outside, Diana quickly and quietly tiptoed back into the house. The door creaked softly behind her, and she suddenly heard Carmine's footsteps nearing the entrance. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of being caught, and without a second thought, she bolted into the guest bathroom to hide. Her heart racing, she caught her breath and stayed silent, waiting for Carmine to distance herself.
After what felt like an eternity, the house grew quiet. The moment was right, so Diana swiftly made her move. She dashed out of the bathroom, her footsteps light, and crawled up the stairs, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
When she reached the top, she paused for a moment to assess her situation. Sneaking into the attic now would be too risky—it could cause too much noise. Instead, she slipped into Daniel's room.
The room was exactly as she remembered it: the bed unmade with water bottles stuffed underneath, a wooden desk cluttered with a laptop, scattered pens, and crumpled notes. Random papers lay on the floor, and a chair in the corner was draped with clothes. The bookshelf, just as she recalled, was haphazardly filled with books, some leaning, others stacked on top of each other.
Despite what most people would consider an incredibly messy and unorganized space, it didn't bother her. She had never felt the need to be tidy; the room's disorder felt normal, almost comforting in its familiarity. It had been years since someone had visited their house, and she couldn't remember if anyone had ever come into her room at all.
Despite the tension of her situation, the room offered a temporary sanctuary. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as she prepared to wait for her next opportunity to sneak into the attic.
After a while, Daniel heard footsteps approaching—his own familiar stride. As he turned the corner, Diana rushed out of the room, startling him. Before he could react, she grabbed his arm, her grip firm, and pulled him toward the attic. He didn't resist, too surprised by her urgency to say anything.
His heart raced as they climbed, his mind whirling in confusion. When they reached the attic, the disorientation only worsened. The moment they stepped inside, Daniel sat down, trying to steady himself, his thoughts spinning too fast to make sense of.
He watched as Diana quickly pulled the steps back up behind them. The wooden stairs folded with a quiet creak before locking into place with a distinct click. The sound felt final, like there was no turning back.
When she turned to face him, her eyes locked onto his, unflinching, focused. Daniel swallowed hard, feeling a knot of nerves twisting in his stomach. Something in her expression made his skin prickle. She approached him slowly, her eyes never leaving his, and without thinking, Daniel scooted back, inching away.
Then she stopped and asked, her voice firm and unnerving, "You really are Daniel?"
He blinked, confused. The question caught him off guard. "What do you mean?" His voice wavered despite his attempt to sound assertive. "Of course, I'm Daniel. Now—now tell me, who are you?" His words were shaky, lacking the confidence he wanted them to have.
Diana's gaze didn't falter. She moved closer, just enough to make him feel her presence more intensely. "I'm you," she said softly but firmly. "I'm you, Daniel."
The words hung in the air, surreal and impossible. Daniel stared at her, his mind racing to find some rational explanation. "Wha—what are you talking about?" he stammered, his confusion growing by the second.
"I know it sounds insane," Diana continued, her voice calm but unwavering. "I know you don't believe me, and I don't blame you. It sounds impossible. But I am you." She crouched down, now at eye level with him, her expression intense. "And I can prove it."
Before he could ask how, she leaned in and whispered something in his ear—something so personal, so specific, only he could know it. Daniel froze. His eyes widened as the realization hit him, the words sinking in, undeniable.
He stared at her, his breath catching in his throat. "You… you're actually me." The disbelief was clear in his voice, but so was the growing weight of the truth.
Diana nodded, her expression softening slightly but her gaze never breaking. "Yes. I am. It's strange, it's overwhelming… but it's real."
Daniel took a deep breath, struggling to process everything. "But how?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "How can you be me? I mean... I'm me, and you're you. And yet..." He trailed off, looking at her, searching her eyes for answers. "You're me? And I'm you? How is that even possible? This doesn't make any sense."
"I don't know how it's possible," Diana admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "But it's what's happening. It's like we're the same person, split into two."
Daniel shook his head, trying to grasp the reality she was presenting to him. "This is insane," he muttered, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache. "You're saying that you—" He gestured to her—"are somehow me? In a girl's body? And I'm still me, but... we're the same?"
Diana nodded again, her expression earnest. "Exactly. I don't know why or how it happened, but that's what it is."
They both fell silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Daniel stared at the floor, his mind racing. He felt a strange connection to her—something deep and inexplicable—but the confusion was overwhelming.
After a few moments, Diana moved away from him and sat down on the old mattress, her posture slouched with exhaustion. Daniel turned to look at her, and for a split second, he was taken aback by how she looked—so naturally beautiful, even though she was just sitting there. The soft light from the attic window fell on her face, highlighting the delicate curves of her features.
He blinked, trying to shake off the thought, his mind snapping back to the impossible reality they were facing. He sighed, finally breaking the silence.
"Okay," he said slowly, his voice low, "if we're both... me... or both us... or whatever, then what do we do now? How are we supposed to live like this?"
Diana didn't answer right away. Instead, she lay back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for answers there. The old springs creaked softly beneath her, filling the quiet space.
"I don't know," she finally replied, her voice softer now. "But I don't think I can just hide up here forever."
Daniel frowned, feeling the reality of their situation pressing down harder. "What do you mean?"
"I want to live a normal life, or at least try to," Diana said, still lying down, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I want to go outside, go to school... I need to figure out how to be me, even in this body."
Daniel nodded slowly, her words sinking in. "I get that," he said, thoughtful. "But... how are you going to enroll in school, though? I mean, technically, you don't exist."
Diana bit her lip, her gaze still fixed upward. "I know. It's not like I can just show up and say, 'Hey, I'm new here, let me in.'" She sighed, frustration edging her voice. "But I can't keep hiding either."
Daniel watched as her shoulders slumped, the light in her eyes dimming. The excitement she'd had just moments ago seemed to vanish, leaving her looking small and uncertain. He could see her trying to hold it together, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of his stolen hoodie.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, I didn't mean to bring you down," he said softly. "We'll manage, okay? You've already done so much to make this place work." He glanced around the attic, trying to shift the mood. "I mean, look at this place. You've turned it into a pretty cool hideout."
Diana gave a small, hesitant smile. It wasn't much, but it was something. Daniel could see she was trying to stay positive, even though everything felt so uncertain. He felt a strange mix of guilt and warmth, knowing how much she was relying on him.
Seeing her like this, Daniel realized just how much he cared for her—how much he needed her to be okay. She wasn't just some stranger in a different body; she was him, and the thought of her being so overwhelmed felt like an unbearable weight on his own chest.
She took a deep breath, the tightness in her chest easing slightly as she looked at Daniel. "Thanks," she said quietly, her voice sincere. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. It was sudden, but she couldn't hold back. She needed the contact, the reassurance that she wasn't alone in this.
Daniel stiffened, caught off guard. He felt a rush of emotions—confusion, warmth, and something else he couldn't quite name. His heart pounded as he awkwardly returned the hug, his hands resting uncertainly on her back. "I-I'll be here," he managed to say, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "For as long as you need."
They stood there for a moment, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were a little brighter, but there was still a lingering uncertainty there.
"Diana… I guess that's your name now?" Daniel asked softly, his eyes searching hers.
She nodded, her expression uncertain but resigned. "Yeah, I guess it is."
He nodded back, the reality of it sinking in a little more. "It's just… this is all so strange."
"I know," she said, giving him a small, understanding smile. "But I'm really glad you're here."
"Same here," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "We'll figure things out."
She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I guess we will."
There was a beat of silence before Daniel let out a small, almost nervous laugh. "This is so weird."
Diana's smile widened just a bit. "Weird doesn't even begin to cover it."
They shared a look, the kind that said more than any words could. It wasn't a solution, and it wasn't going to make things any easier, but it was something. And for now, it was enough.