Evan’s eyes fluttered open. The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the rge, luxurious curtains that adorned the windows of the room. The faint scent of vender filled the air, and the cool, crisp sheets beneath him made him feel like he was in a dream. But it didn’t take long for the discomfort to set in—a dull, throbbing headache pounding in his temples.

  His hand instinctively reached up to rub his forehead, trying to ease the dull, pounding ache. He blinked a few times, clearing the fog. The room was unfamiliar—modern yet cozy, its warm tones and simple decor at odds with the emptiness he felt. A full-length mirror caught his eye, reflecting an image that seemed almost alien to him.

  His reflection… something about it felt wrong. The face staring back was too soft, too refined—familiar yet foreign. The rough skin he remembered was gone, repced by smooth, luminous flesh. Even his hair seemed different, falling thickly just above his eyes. Evan’s heart skipped a beat. Who was this?

  What happened?

  Fragments of his old life flickered in his mind—his parents, both lost to illness, the years of struggle and survival. It all felt like a distant dream, slipping away as this strange new reality took its pce.

  This isn’t my room, he thought, confused. The weight of the situation was still sinking in, and the more he tried to focus, the more the two sets of memories began to blur together. He had memories of his past life, yes, but there were also fshes of a new existence—one where he was someone else entirely.

  His body felt alien—graceful and fluid, as if it had been pampered its entire life. His hands were slender and pale, their smoothness unfamiliar. This body was foreign yet disturbingly familiar, like it was someone else’s, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

  Evan closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He needed to calm down. His thoughts were a tangled mess of confusion. The best way to deal with this? He needed a pn. He needed to figure out what had happened, what this new life was, and most importantly, who he was now.

  The headache lingered, but the ache wasn’t just physical. There was a deep, gnawing sense of dispcement. The person he had been—the Evan from his old life—had died. He had died in a car accident. He had been young, barely nineteen, with no real prospects. His parents had both been cimed by the same disease, leaving him to fend for himself. He had never gotten to live out his dreams of escaping poverty, of building something better. But now, he was here.

  A second chance.

  But as he continued to sit on the bed, trying to make sense of it all, a thought struck him: Where am I?

  The room was undeniably luxurious, the kind of pce someone wealthy would live in. But that wasn’t the strangest part. What struck him as most unusual were the items scattered around the room—items that seemed almost… feminine. A vanity mirror, cute little trinkets, an expensive-looking silk robe, makeup products in the drawers.

  Wait a minute.

  His mind stumbled over the facts. He wasn’t just in some fancy room. No, he was in a completely different world, a parallel one. The rules of society here were different. Gender roles were reversed. He wasn’t the man he had been in his previous life—he was now someone else. Someone who, in this world, was expected to embody a whole new set of behaviors, attitudes, and emotions.

  Men were supposed to be the emotional anchors, the nurturers, the ones who supported everyone else. But Evan had never been that person. He had always been reserved, a quiet observer, not someone who wore his heart on his sleeve. But here, that was the role he was supposed to take.

  The realization sent a cold shiver down his spine.

  His name was Evan Lancaster. His father had remarried into a family of wealth, influence, and power. His new stepmother, Eleanor, was as commanding as she was elegant.

  Evan stood up from the bed and walked across the room, his feet sinking into the plush carpet. He gnced at the phone on the nightstand, a sleek, modern device with all sorts of apps and icons that didn’t quite make sense to him. But it was a tool, something that could help him make sense of this world. He picked it up carefully, trying to steady his breathing as he unlocked the screen.

  The phone felt like a lifeline, an anchor in the chaos. He scrolled through its contents—messages, photos, and apps—all fragments of a life he was supposed to know. Each piece felt foreign yet oddly familiar, slowly grounding him in this new reality.

  His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was a message from his mother—a woman who seemed to be both powerful and distant, yet deeply concerned about his well-being. The message read:

  Evan, we need to speak to you at dinner tonight. It’s something important.

  He leaned back against the wall, reading the message again. Dinner? He checked the time on his phone—he had a few hours.

  Evan stood there for a moment, weighing his options. What should he do now?

  He thought back to the feelings that had overwhelmed him when he first woke up. The confusion, the dizziness, the overwhelming sense of loss. But more than that, there was the feeling that he didn’t belong here. That something about this life was wrong.

  He took a deep breath, pushing away the lingering panic, and decided to face whatever y ahead. He would meet his family. He would figure out this strange new life.

  At the dinner table that evening, the atmosphere was warm, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken. The soft lighting of the room cast long shadows across the elegant wooden dining table, giving the space a cozy, almost intimate feel. Evan sat between his parents, feeling like an outsider in a life that didn’t quite feel his own.

  To his right, Eleanor, his mother, exuded quiet authority. Her sleek dark hair framed sharp features, and her posture was always poised, as though she knew how to handle any situation with precision. She smiled, but it never reached her eyes—like a well-practiced gesture. Evan could never quite tell what she was thinking, but there was always a certain calcution behind her words.

  On his left was Charles, his father, the calm in the storm. He spoke gently, his warm eyes focusing on Evan in a way that made people feel at ease. Still, Evan noticed the way Charles subtly observed him, as though weighing his every reaction.

  The conversation flowed easily, almost too easily. Charles spoke animatedly about redecorating the east wing of the mansion, debating between floral or geometric patterns for the new curtains. He even mentioned a boutique sale he was pnning to visit for throw pillows. His tone was bright, almost cheerful, but the sheer domesticity of his words threw Evan off. It was bizarre hearing his father discuss home decor and shopping lists with such enthusiasm—it felt… uncomfortably girly.

  Eleanor, meanwhile, chimed in with pns to expand the family business, her voice measured and professional. The contrast between them couldn’t have been starker, and Evan felt like an outsider observing a reversed script.

  Evan absentmindedly poked at his food, trying to seem normal despite his racing thoughts. He wasn’t really sure how he had ended up here—sitting at this table with these strangers who were supposed to be his family.

  Charles broke the silence, his voice warm and casual. “How’s college life treating you, Evan?” he asked, giving Evan a kind smile. “You’ve been a bit quiet tely.”

  Evan hesitated. College life? He hadn't processed this new part of his reality yet. He looked at his father, trying to mask his confusion. “It’s, uh… it’s fine,” he said, his voice measured. “Busy.”

  Charles nodded, his smile unchanged. “Good. Staying busy is key. Helps keep your focus.”

  Eleanor’s gaze flickered between them, her fork paused mid-air. “Focus, yes,” she said softly, her voice polite, but her eyes calcuting. “Though I imagine it’s not always easy. Bancing school, your social life, and family expectations.”

  The word expectations hung in the air. Evan’s stomach twisted. In his old life, expectations were simple—survive, get by. But here, they seemed loaded, as though they carried a weight he wasn’t prepared for.

  Eleanor leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a softer tone. “It’s been a few years since we became a family, Evan,” she said, her eyes scanning him as if weighing his every response. “Adjusting to a new dynamic wasn’t easy, but we’re proud of how you’ve handled it.”

  Evan fought to keep his expression neutral, but something inside him recoiled at the sentiment. Proud of me? he thought bitterly. This wasn’t his life, not really. It felt like a story he hadn’t chosen, one he had been thrust into.

  Charles added, his voice still light, but with a hint of gravity, “Your mother’s right. You’ve grown a lot these past few years, son. And now that you’re in college, it’s time to think about what comes next.”

  Evan blinked, the pressure in his chest building. What comes next? “The future?” he echoed, though the word felt like a weight he hadn’t been prepared to carry.

  “Yes,” Eleanor replied, her voice soft yet sharp, like a bde cloaked in velvet. “You’ve been part of this family long enough to understand what we expect. We’re not just wealthy, Evan. We’re influential. And with that comes certain responsibilities.”

  Evan froze, his grip tightening on his fork. Responsibilities? His mind reeled, the word foreign, heavy with implications he couldn’t yet comprehend. “Responsibilities?” he asked, trying to steady his voice.

  Eleanor’s smile didn’t waver. “Yes, responsibilities,” she said, her tone unwavering. “Securing your pce in this family. Securing the future.”

  Charles pced a hand on Evan’s shoulder, a reassuring gesture, though his words felt far more purposeful. “We just want to make sure you’re set up for success, Evan. And that means securing the family’s future.”

  Evan’s pulse quickened, the unease inside him swirling. “Securing the future?” he echoed, unsure where this conversation was heading.

  Eleanor’s smile remained, though it was now more calcuted. “Exactly. Which is why we’ve made arrangements for you to marry Sienna.”

  The words hit him like a punch. His fork paused in midair. Sienna? he repeated, his mind reeling. The name sounded familiar, but it didn’t feel like his own.

  “Yes,” Eleanor said, her voice cool but firm. “It’s the logical choice. You and Sienna have known each other for years. This union will solidify the family’s legacy.”

  Evan’s gaze darted to Charles, but his father remained silent, watching carefully. The memories of Sienna flickered in his mind—vivid yet alien. She was confident, magnetic, and had always been at Eleanor’s side, the perfect daughter who mirrored her mother’s ambition. But she was also his step-sister, a fact that made this arrangement feel even stranger.

  He struggled to process the thought. She wasn’t just someone he was supposed to marry; she was Eleanor’s biological child, the shining star of the family, and Evan’s pce next to her felt forced and unnatural.

  “But... I don’t—” Evan stammered, his throat tightening. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  Charles’s smile softened, but it was ced with a quiet insistence. “We understand this is a lot, Evan. That’s why we’re telling you now—so you have time to adjust.”

  Eleanor’s gaze remained steady, her expression soft but resolute. “This is for the best, Evan. For the family. For you. Sienna understands this as much as we do.”

  The weight of their words pressed down on him, thick and suffocating. Every instinct screamed for him to resist, to shout that this wasn’t his life—yet no sound left his mouth.

  As he gnced at Eleanor, then Charles, he realized there was no room for objection. Their words weren’t just a suggestion—they were the foundation of his new world, a world that wasn’t truly his own.

  LunarEcho