Josie woke before dawn.
It wasn't intentional. Her eyes simply snapped open at the exact moment the first weak line of morning light slid across her borrowed ceiling. For a few seconds, she lay still, disoriented, staring at the unfamiliar beams of carved wood overhead. Then the fog in her mind cleared, sweeping away sleep, reminding her—yet again—that this wasn't her world.
She'd gone to bed as Josie Adebayo, a twenty-six-year-old Lagos-born woman with a stressful tech job and a perpetual ache in her shoulders. She'd woken up in the body of Lady Josephine Ardelia Ravenshire, daughter of a minor noble caught at the edge of political storms.
And today, she had to live as her. Again.
With a slow sigh, Josie pushed herself upright. Her body—this borrowed one—moved with a fluid grace she still wasn't used to. Slender limbs, strong back, and eyes that had memorized these hallways long before she arrived in them. Even three days later, she felt like a ghost wearing someone else's life like oversized clothes.
But she was adapting. She always adapted.
A soft knock sounded on her door.
"Milady? Are you awake?" came Mara's soft voice.
Josie stretched once, gathering the frayed pieces of her courage. "Come in."
Mara peeked inside, her curly dark hair pinned up neatly, eyes bright despite the hour. "Good morning, milady! I—oh! You're already up. That's… new."
"Couldn't sleep," Josie admitted. "Too many thoughts."
Mara entered with a tray of warm water, a pitcher of tea, and a tiny plate of sweet rolls dusted with sugar. "About last night?"
Josie paused. Last night. The banquet. The nobles whispering behind fans. The veiled curiosity about her "transformation" over the past three days. And—of course—the Crown Prince.
She'd expected arrogance. Entitlement. Maybe a cold politician's smile.
Instead, Rowan had surprised her.
He'd spoken to her like she was someone to listen to, not a piece on a chessboard. His gaze—deep green, glimmering like dusk—had lingered just a bit too long, not in judgement but in interest.
And then he'd said the words she still couldn't entirely understand:
> "You don't look at the world the way you used to, Josephine. Something about you is… brighter."
It had almost made her panic, because Rowan had been right.
She was not the same Josephine he used to know.
She was Josie.
"I'm fine," Josie finally told Mara, even though it was partly a lie. "I'm just thinking ahead."
"You always do that now," Mara replied, though gently. "It's not a bad thing. In fact… I think it suits you."
Josie smiled.
Maybe it did.
---
Breakfast with the Earl—her father—was quiet as usual. Josie had learned quickly that he wasn't a man of conversation, particularly in the mornings. But today, he kept glancing at her with mild, cautious curiosity.
"Josephine," he said suddenly, setting down his spoon. "Your comportment yesterday at the banquet… it was unusually poised."
Josie froze mid-bite. "Is that so?"
"Yes," he said, eyes narrowing not in suspicion, but in thoughtful concern. "You carried yourself with confidence. Clarity. The other nobles noticed. It is… unlike you."
Josie set her fork down gently. She didn't want to lie, but the truth—I'm not your daughter; I just woke up in her body—wasn't exactly an option.
"I suppose I've been reflecting," she said carefully. "On who I want to be moving forward."
The Earl considered this. Slowly, his expression softened—not fully, but enough to expose a tenderness he rarely showed.
"…Then I am proud of you."
Josie blinked.
Proud?
The word hit her with unexpected force. Her throat tightened, her chest warming with ache. In her past life, praise had been rare, and rarely sincere.
"Thank you," she murmured.
The Earl nodded once, as though the moment was too fragile to linger on. "You have appointments today. A meeting with Lady Evelyne. And… a request from the palace."
Josie tensed. "From the Crown Prince?"
"Yes. He wishes to see you this afternoon."
Her spoon clinked softly against the plate.
Of course he did.
---
The palace was grand, overwhelming even in its quiet hours. Light streamed through tall circular windows, painting the marble floors gold. Servants moved silently, bowing as Josie passed. She tried not to feel awkward under all the attention.
Rowan was waiting in a small courtyard, leaning casually against a stone archway. Today, he wore simple clothes—dark tunic, loose sleeves, no ceremonial armor. It made him seem younger, almost approachable.
When he turned and saw her, his posture straightened just a little.
"You came," he said, and his smile was small but genuine.
Josie dipped her head. "Your request sounded urgent."
His eyes softened. "Not urgent. Just… important."
She didn't know what to say to that.
Rowan gestured toward a shaded bench. "Walk with me?"
Josie hesitated, then nodded.
They walked in quiet for several steps, birds chirping overhead, the scent of jasmine drifting through the air. It was peaceful enough that for a moment, Josie forgot the weight of expectations.
Rowan broke the silence.
"Josephine… I've known you since we were children."
Josie's heart lurched.
"So I've heard," she said lightly.
Rowan chuckled, though there was an undercurrent in his voice—soft, uncertain. "You used to avoid these gardens. You hated the quiet of them. Said it made you feel trapped with your own thoughts."
"Maybe I've changed," she murmured.
"Yes," Rowan said quietly. "And that's what intrigues me."
Josie's breath caught.
Rowan stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His expression was open—not princely, not political, just human.
"You seem… freed from something," he said. "Lighter. Stronger. More yourself."
Josie swallowed hard.
If only he knew.
"I don't know who you're becoming," Rowan continued softly. "But… I'd like to."
Her heart beat too fast. Too loud.
The breeze carried his warmth to her skin. His gaze held hers with gentle certainty, not pressure.
She looked away, trying to steady her breath. "That might be… complicated."
"Most worthwhile things are," Rowan replied without missing a beat. "But I'm not asking for anything from you. Just the chance to understand you." He paused. "The real you."
Josie's throat tightened.
In her old world, no one had ever said that to her.
Nobody ever saw her.
She didn't give an answer. She didn't have one yet. But Rowan didn't push—he simply resumed walking, letting her fall into step beside him.
For now, that was enough.
For the first time in this strange world, Josie didn't feel like she was pretending.
She felt alive.