It's Shae, I think?

"It's Shae, not Mia," you correct him automatically, though something about the name feels increasingly foreign on your tongue. You glance down at your phone where Becky's cartoon avatar is now giving you an exaggerated eye-roll.

David leans against the doorframe, confusion flickering across his face. "Shae? But your Instagram—"

"Listen," you cut him off, not wanting to get into a name debate right now. "I need to figure this out, but first... could we take a quick selfie together?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "A selfie? Right now?"

You hold up your phone, the app having seamlessly transformed into what appears to be a regular camera interface. "Just a quick one. For... documentation purposes."

David studies you for a moment, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Sure, why not. History in the making, I guess—Matt's first day as a redhead."

You position yourself beside him, carefully maintaining space between your bodies. "No touching," you warn as he instinctively moves to put his arm around your shoulders—the standard selfie pose. "Just stand next to me, please."

"Alright, alright," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender before positioning himself a respectful distance away. "Very modest. Got it."

You stretch your arm out, the phone feeling slightly bulkier in your smaller hand. Your new face fills the screen beside David's, and the contrast is jarring—his tall, angular masculinity next to your petite, soft features. The copper waves of your hair catch the kitchen light, framing your face in warm highlights.

"Say 'what the fuck is happening,'" David quips as you tap the capture button.

The flash momentarily blinds you both. When you check the result, it's... unsettlingly good. Your green eyes are bright, your complexion flawless, the light dusting of freckles adorably emphasized by the flash. You look nothing like Matt, not even a feminized version. You're completely someone else.

Before you can examine it further, the photo automatically uploads with a caption you definitely didn't write: "Saturday vibes with the flatmate! ❤❤ #NewBeginnings #WeekendFun"

"Wait, I didn't—" you begin, but it's too late. The post is live, hearts already accumulating beneath it at an alarming rate.

A pink notification slides across your screen: "Task complete! +1 Return Point earned!"

David peers over your shoulder, close enough that you can smell his cologne—something you've smelled a hundred times before but now registers differently on your new senses, earthier and more intense.

"Wow, you already have forty-three likes," he says, sounding impressed. "And who are all these people commenting? 'Looking gorgeous, babe!' 'Slay, Mia!' I didn't know Matt had so many female friends."

You stare in horror at your phone. You don't recognize a single username liking or commenting on the photo, yet they all seem to know... Mia.

"I don't—" you start to say, but you're interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

David glances toward the entrance. "That'll be Clara. She texted earlier saying she was stopping by to pick up her clothes." He gives you a look that's half amusement, half apology. "The clothes you're currently wearing."

13:05 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London

[TEASE TIER TASK] | Complete | +1 Return Point earned