** This is my first ever story on any platform. Please provide any feedback if you have. I would love to read it and include in my future stories. **
Part 1
The blue light of his laptop screen illuminated Rajanish’s face, casting deep shadows under his eyes. It was 11:45 PM on a Thursday. While the rest of Pune was winding down, Hinjawadi Phase 3 was still buzzing with the silent, desperate energy of overworked IT professionals.
Rajanish stared at the Jira board. Six tickets were still assigned to him, all marked Blocker. To make matters worse, his phone buzzed on the desk. It was a WhatsApp message from his mother, accompanied by a PDF of a biodata.
"Rajani, look at this girl. She is a software engineer too. Her family is very decent. Talk to her this weekend. You are 27 now, when will you settle down?"
"Settle down?" Rajanish muttered, rubbing his temples. "I can't even settle my code deployment, Aai."
The weight of it all felt like a physical boulder on his chest. The monthly EMI for the home loan he’d taken for his parents, the constant pressure from his manager to deliver "by yesterday, Rajanish," the loneliness of living in a rented 1BHK, and the endless expectation to be the responsible, only child of parents. He was tired. Sincerely, deeply tired of being Rajanish the dependable pillar.
He closed his laptop, walked over to the small shrine of Ganpati Bappa on his kitchen counter, and folded his hands. He didn't usually pray with dramatic flare, but tonight, his voice trembled.
"Bappa, I’m running on empty," he whispered. "I don't want to be the one responsible for everything anymore. Just... free me from this. Give me a break from this constant tension. Please."
With a heavy sigh, he threw himself onto his bed, wearing his favorite blue boy's night-t-shirt and boxers, and drifted into a dreamless, exhausted sleep.
The Morning Reboot
The next morning, the alarm on his phone blared at 7:30 AM.
Rajanish groaned, reaching out to slap the screen. But as he sat up, his body felt lighter, and a strange, dizzying wave of disorientation hit his mind.
He blinked, looking down at his hands. They were slender, his skin impossibly smooth, and his wrists delicate.
What the...
Panic seizing him, he scrambled out of bed. His balance was entirely off; his center of gravity had shifted. He rushed into the bathroom and stared into the mirror.
Staring back at him was a young woman. She had warm, almond-shaped brown eyes, thick eyelashes, and a mane of wavy, dark brown hair falling past her shoulders. Her skin was a radiant wheatish tone, her jawline soft. He—no, she—was wearing a oversized women's night kurti that she didn't remember owning.
"What... what is this?" she gasped. The voice that escaped her lips was sweet, slightly raspy from sleep, but undeniably female.
She ran back into the bedroom, her heart hammering against her ribs. She needed to check his ID. His wallet.
She grabbed his leather wallet from the dresser. She pulled out his PAN card.
The name printed on it read: RAJANI PATIL. Under the faded plastic, the photo was not of the bearded 27-year-old Rajanish who had gone to sleep last night. It was a photo of the girl in the mirror.
"No, no, no. This is a joke," she whispered, her hands trembling.
She dragged his college folder out of the cupboard. She opened the degree certificate.
Bachelor of Engineering... Miss Rajani Patil.
She unlocked her phone, her fingers instinctively typing his pattern. She opened the gallery. Her heart stopped. There were photos of her college group from years ago—but where Rajanish used to stand in the back row, a girl with wavy hair and a big smile stood instead. There were photos of his family's Diwali celebration in Kolhapur; he was gone, replaced in every single photo by this girl.
His entire existence as a boy had been completely, retroactively erased from the fabric of reality. To him, the memories of being a boy named Rajanish were still burning bright. But to the rest of the world, he had apparently always been Rajani.
The Call
Before she could scream, the phone in her hand began to vibrate.
The screen read: Aai (Mother)
Rajani’s breath caught in her throat. She swallowed hard, swiped the screen, and held the phone to her ear, trying to keep her voice steady.
"H-hello? Aai?"
"Rajjo! Sakal jhali tari ajun jhoplie ka? (Rajjo! It's morning and you're still sleeping?)" her mother’s familiar voice scolded gently over the line. "Did you look at the biodata of the Nashik boy I sent you last night? His mother called me this morning. They are very keen."
Rajani stared blankly at the wall. "Aai... the biodata from last night. Wasn't it... wasn't it a girl's biodata? For... for your son?"
Her mother let out a loud, amused laugh over the speaker. "Son? Rajjo, did you have a weird dream? Since when do I have a son? You are my only daughter, Are Deva!!! Have you started sleeping-talking now? Put some tea on, the office work pressure is getting to your head."
"But Aai, I..." Rajani's voice cracked.
"Check the oil in your scooter today, Rajjo," her father's voice called out warmly in the background. "And don't forget to call that family! We want our daughter to settle down soon."
"Okay, Aai. I'll call you later," Rajani whispered, quickly ending the call before she burst into tears.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. She was still holding the weight of her family's expectations, the EMIs, and the crushing IT job, but the universe had flipped a switch. She was no longer only the responsible son but a delicate beautiful, still a responsible only daughter of her parents.
Suddenly, a loud, rhythmic banging sounded at her front door.
"Tai! Darwaja ughaada! (Sister, open the door!)" her maid, Mangal-tai, yelled from the corridor.
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