another wish

By Sunday evening, Tom was ready to admit he was drowning.

The interview Friday had been manageable - he'd just driven, stayed quiet, let Deja handle everything. But Saturday brought a photoshoot where he was supposed to coordinate with three different teams, manage wardrobe changes, keep track of which shots the photographer wanted, and handle scheduling conflicts. He'd fumbled through it, making notes on his phone, trying to look competent while having absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Deja had covered for him when she could, but he'd seen the frustration flash across her face more than once. Not Sarah's frustration with her husband - Deja's frustration with an employee who wasn't performing up to standard.

Now they were back at her place, and Tom was staring at Monday's calendar on his phone with growing dread. Studio session in the morning, lunch meeting with the label, interview with a podcast in the afternoon, then dinner with a producer who was apparently important but Tom had no idea why.

"I can't do this," he said, rubbing his face. "I'm going to fuck something up and blow your cover or piss off someone important."

Deja emerged from the bathroom in a robe, hair wrapped in a towel. "You're doing fine—"

"I'm not." Tom pulled out the coin from where he'd been keeping it in his pocket constantly. Sarah's original face gleamed on the metal. "I don't have the knowledge, the contacts, the skills. This reality's Tom would know who all these people are, what your preferences are, how to handle your team. I'm just guessing."

"We could try changing me back," Deja offered, though there was something in her voice that suggested she wasn't entirely eager to.

"What if the coin isn't recharged enough for that yet?" Tom countered. "That was a major change. But maybe..." He turned the coin over in his fingers. "Maybe it's recharged enough for something smaller. Like giving me the skills I need to actually be your assistant."

Deja moved closer, interested. "You think that would work?"

"Only one way to find out." Tom thought about the wording carefully. The last wish had gone sideways because it was too vague. This one needed to be specific. "I wish Sarah - as Deja - has an incredibly competent assistant, Tom, with all the knowledge and skills to effectively meet her needs and requirements."

He rubbed the coin, felt the now-familiar tingle of magic activating, and—

The world didn't change. Not visibly. But Tom's head suddenly felt full, like someone had poured information directly into his brain. He gasped, staggered, and Deja caught him.

"Tom? What happened? Did it work?"

Tom blinked, and suddenly he knew things. He knew that the producer they were meeting for dinner tomorrow was Marcus Chen, who'd worked on Deja's second album and was angling to executive produce the next one. He knew that Deja took her coffee with oat milk and two sugars, that she hated doing interviews before noon, that her manager Tanya was protective and didn't like anyone getting too close to her client. He knew the names of everyone on her team, the intricacies of her recording contract, which journalists were friendly and which ones were looking for drama.

"Holy shit," Tom breathed. "Yeah. It worked. I know... I know everything. How to do the job, who everyone is, all of it."

"That's great!" Deja said, relieved. Then she peered at him more closely. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"I'm fine, I just—" Tom stopped, because there was something else too. Memories. Not just knowledge, but actual memories of events that never happened to him. Meeting Deja's previous assistant and learning the ropes. The first day on the job when he'd been nervous and starstruck. The gradual shift from professional to friendly to flirtatious. The night they'd first hooked up, how she'd pulled him into her dressing room after a show and kissed him until he couldn't think straight.

"Oh fuck," Tom said quietly.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I have his memories. This reality's Tom. Not all of them, I don't think, but..." Tom pressed his fingers to his temples. "I remember meeting you for the first time. I remember working for you. I remember the relationship from this reality's perspective."

Deja's eyes widened. "The casual affair version?"

"Yeah." Tom sat down heavily on the couch. "I remember thinking you were out of my league. I remember being excited when you showed interest. I remember the first time we slept together and thinking I was the luckiest guy alive to be with someone famous and beautiful, even if it had to stay secret." He looked up at her. "I remember not being in love with you. Just really into you."

The words hung between them like a bomb.

"But you are in love with me," Deja said carefully. "Right? The real memories, our marriage, that's still there?"

"Yes." Tom grabbed onto that certainty. "Yes, I still remember everything from our real life. Being married to Sarah, the wishes, all of it. But now I also remember this reality's version. And they're both in my head at the same time, just like you have both sets."

Deja sat beside him, took his hand. "Is that... bad?"

Tom tried to sort through the jumble in his head. "I don't know. It's confusing. Because part of me feels like your employee who's grateful and excited to be sleeping with you. Someone who'd be devastated if you ended it but wouldn't have any real claim on you. And part of me feels like your husband who loves you deeply and has every right to you." He laughed shakily. "The power dynamic feels real now. Before, I knew intellectually that this reality had me as your assistant, but I didn't feel it. Now I do."

"Shit." Deja squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry. We should have thought about that possibility."

"No, it's..." Tom took a breath. "It's actually helpful, in a way. I can do the job now. I know how to navigate your world, how to be useful to you. That was the point." He met her eyes. "But yeah, there are side effects. I feel more deferential to you than before. More aware of the status difference. This reality's Tom was always a little bit in awe of you, and now I have that in my head too."

Deja bit her lip. "Does it change how you feel about me?"

"No. I still love you. Sarah, Deja, whoever you are." Tom pulled her close. "But the dynamic between us feels different now. More complicated. Before I was playing a role - pretending to be your assistant. Now I have memories of actually being your assistant, of that being my entire identity in this world. Of you being someone I work for who I'm lucky enough to fuck sometimes."

"That's not what we are," Deja said firmly.

"I know. But tell that to the memories in my head that feel just as real as our actual history." Tom rested his forehead against hers. "We'll figure it out. Just like you're dealing with having Deja's memories mixed with Sarah's. Now we're both dealing with split perspectives."

Deja was quiet for a moment. Then: "Does this reality's Tom have feelings for me? Real feelings, not just physical?"

Tom searched the new memories, found the answer. "Yeah. He does. He's falling for you, actually. Trying not to because he knows it's just supposed to be casual, knows you could end it anytime, but he can't help it. Every time you laugh at something he says or ask his opinion or fall asleep next to him, he falls a little deeper." He paused. "It's painful, those memories. Because he wants more but doesn't feel like he has the right to ask for it."

"Fuck." Deja pulled back, and there were tears in her eyes. "Tom, I don't want you to feel that way. You have every right to me. You're my husband."

"I know that. Intellectually, I know that." Tom cupped her face. "But the memories don't care about logic. They feel real. And this reality's Tom is in my head now, wanting you but feeling like he has to settle for whatever scraps of affection you're willing to give."

"That's not—" Deja stopped, took a breath. "Okay. We need to establish something right now. Yes, this reality has us in a messed up power dynamic. Yes, we both have memories that make it feel more real than it should. But the truth is that we're married, we're equals, and you are not my employee. You're my partner. Got it?"

"Got it," Tom said, and he meant it. But he could feel the other memories lurking, whispering that he was lucky she wanted him at all, that he should be grateful for whatever she was willing to give.

This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

"There's something else," Tom said after a moment. "The wish phrased it as you having 'an incredibly competent assistant.' Not me becoming more competent. Me being the kind of assistant who meets your needs and requirements."

"What's the difference?"

"I'm not sure yet. But the wording focused on me fulfilling your needs." Tom felt something shift in his mind, a subtle reorientation of priorities. "I think part of what the coin did was make me more attuned to you. Like, I can read your moods better now. I know when you're getting tired or stressed or annoyed. I know what you need before you have to ask."

Deja frowned. "That doesn't sound bad?"

"It's not, exactly. But it's also making me feel more... service-oriented. Like my purpose is taking care of you." Tom struggled to articulate it. "Before, I helped you because we're partners and that's what you do. Now I have this drive to anticipate your needs, to make your life easier, to be useful to you. It's subtle, but it's there."

"That's definitely a side effect," Deja said slowly. "The coin made you into the assistant I need. Which apparently includes being emotionally attuned and eager to serve."

"Yeah." Tom could feel it even now - the awareness of Deja's stress levels, the automatic impulse to offer solutions, to make things better for her. "I don't think it's changing who I fundamentally am. But it's adding layers. This reality's memories, these new instincts about taking care of you, the sense that your needs come first."

"Do you want to change back?" Deja asked. "Use the coin to remove what it did?"

Tom considered that. "No. I need these skills and knowledge to function in this reality. And honestly, the side effects aren't terrible. They're just... different. As long as you remember that underneath it all, I'm still your equal. Still your husband."

"Always," Deja promised. She kissed him softly. "Although I have to admit, there's something kind of hot about you being all attuned to my needs and eager to take care of me."

"Don't," Tom warned. "If you start leaning into that, it's going to make the power dynamic worse."

"I know. I'm sorry." But there was a flicker in Deja's eyes that suggested the idea appealed to her more than she wanted to admit. The Deja-memories probably liked having someone devoted to her needs. And Sarah had always appreciated when Tom was attentive, even if she'd never demanded it.

"We're a mess," Tom said, not without affection.

"The hottest mess," Deja agreed. She stood, pulled him up with her. "Come on. Let's go to bed. Tomorrow's going to be busy, and you need to prove that wish actually made you competent."

"Yes, ma'am," Tom said automatically, and then caught himself. That had come from the new memories, the assistant mindset. He was going to have to watch that.

As they headed to the bedroom, Tom tried to sort through everything in his head. He had two sets of memories now, two perspectives on his relationship with the woman who was his wife and also his boss and also a famous rapper who'd never existed until a wish made her real. He had new skills, new knowledge, and new instincts that made him want to serve her in ways that both excited and unsettled him.

The coin had worked. He could do the job now, could navigate this reality with confidence.

But like every wish before it, there were consequences he hadn't anticipated. And he had a sinking feeling they were only just beginning to understand what they'd gotten themselves into.