Order the Thai food and act as though nothing unusual happened.

You pick up your phone and navigate to the Thai restaurant's app with practiced nonchalance. "The usual?" you ask, your voice deliberately casual as you scroll through familiar menu items.

Sarah emerges from the bathroom wearing a simple t-shirt and yoga pants she must have grabbed from the bedroom. Her hair is damp at the edges where she's splashed water on her face. The transformation is striking—not just her youthful appearance, but how she carries herself now, with a fluid confidence that wasn't there this morning.

"Yes, please. Extra spring rolls though," she replies, settling into the armchair across from you rather than beside you on the couch. "I'm absolutely starving."

You complete the order, focusing intently on the screen to avoid the charged silence between you. The app cheerfully announces a forty-minute delivery time.

"So," Sarah says finally, tucking one leg beneath her, "that was...different."

You look up, searching for the right response. "Good different?"

She tilts her head, considering. "I don't know. Yes? Maybe? It felt like..." she pauses, her brow furrowing. "It felt like I was watching myself from somewhere else. Like I knew exactly what to do, but I wasn't the one deciding to do it." She rubs her temples, wincing slightly. "That sounds crazy, doesn't it?"

"No," you say, though the coin feels heavier in your pocket. "Sometimes it's like that when you try something new."

She nods slowly, not entirely convinced. "I guess. It's just—" She stops abruptly, blinking rapidly. "Actually, never mind. I'm being weird. Must be all the changes happening at once."

The television remote sits between you, and you reach for it with deliberate casualness. "Want to find something to watch while we wait for dinner?"

"Sure," she agrees, seeming relieved at the change of subject. "Something mindless maybe?"

You navigate to a cooking competition show you both enjoy, the familiar format providing comfortable background noise. Sarah watches with half-attention, occasionally glancing down at her transformed body with expressions that cycle between wonder and unease.

"I keep forgetting," she says suddenly during a commercial break. "I'll catch a glimpse of my hand or feel how differently my clothes fit, and it's like... a surprise all over again." She flexes her fingers, examining them with curious detachment. "Twenty years of muscle memory in a teenager's body."

You're saved from having to respond by the doorbell announcing the food's arrival. As you rise to answer it, Sarah calls after you.

"Michael?"

You turn back, finding her eyes fixed on you with unusual intensity.

"Are you happy? With all this?" she gestures vaguely at herself. "With me like this?"

The question hangs between you, layered with meanings neither of you fully understand. Before you can formulate an answer, the doorbell rings again, more insistently.

"You should get that," she says quietly. "We can talk after dinner."