Reassigned by Fate

Aditya didn’t sleep that night.

He stared at the ceiling, his mind replaying the doctor’s words. His body felt heavy, unfamiliar. The beeping machines, the muffled voices outside, the sterile hospital smell—everything seemed distant, unreal.

He clenched his fists. Maybe this was a bad dream. Maybe he would wake up, and everything would be normal again.

But the pain was real. And so was the truth.

Morning light seeped through the hospital curtains. His mother sat beside him, dozing off. His father had left hours ago without a word.

A nurse walked in, carrying a tray. She smiled gently. "Good morning, Aditya."

He didn’t respond.

She set the tray down and adjusted his IV. "The doctor will be here soon. We’ll need to check your progress."

Aditya still said nothing. He kept staring at the ceiling.

"Do you need anything?" the nurse asked.

Yes. My life back.

He shook his head.

A few hours later, the doctor arrived. He checked Aditya’s vitals, then sighed. "You need to start moving, Aditya. Your body needs to heal, and staying in bed won’t help."

Aditya scoffed. "My body? What body?"

His mother flinched. The doctor remained calm. "I know this is difficult. But you have to face it."

Face what? That I’m not me anymore? That my life is ruined?

The doctor gestured to the nurse. "Help him to the mirror."

Aditya’s breath caught. "No."

"You have to."

His mother touched his hand. "Beta…"

He pulled away.

The nurse and the doctor exchanged a glance. Then, gently but firmly, they helped him sit up. His muscles ached. His head spun. He wanted to scream.

They guided him to a full-length mirror near the bathroom. His legs trembled. His hands gripped the wheelchair’s arms.

"Take your time," the doctor said.

Aditya clenched his jaw. He shut his eyes.

Just look. Just get it over with.

He forced himself to open them.

A stranger stared back.

The face was his… but not. Softer. The jawline less sharp. The eyebrows thinner. His lips, fuller. His skin, paler from the weeks in the hospital.

And his body…

Bandages covered his chest. His hospital gown hung loose, but it couldn’t hide the changes. His shoulders seemed narrower. His waist, slightly curved.

His breath hitched.

No. No, no, no.

"This isn’t me," he whispered.

His reflection said nothing. Just stared back with unfamiliar, broken eyes.

He gritted his teeth and grabbed the IV stand for support. His heart pounded. His chest rose and fell unevenly.

"This. Isn’t. Me."

His hands shook. His stomach churned.

Then, before anyone could stop him, he grabbed the mirror and pushed it with all his strength.

The glass shattered.

"Aditya!" his mother screamed.

Nurses rushed in. The doctor grabbed his arms. Someone pulled him back to the bed.

He struggled. "I want my body back! Give it back!"

Tears blurred his vision. His breath came in gasps. His chest ached. His whole world spun.

Then, darkness took over.

He woke up hours later. His mother sat beside him, her eyes swollen from crying. The broken mirror was gone.

He turned his head to the side, staring at the wall.

"Aditya…" his mother’s voice trembled.

He didn’t respond.

She reached for his hand. "Beta, please. Talk to me."

He swallowed. His throat was dry. "What’s the point?"

Tears slipped down her face. "You’re still my child."

"No, I’m not."

His voice was hollow.

His mother sobbed softly, but he didn’t look at her.

He just closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear.