Juno didn’t know what she was expecting when she stepped back into Celia’s room, but it certainly wasn’t this.

  Now that she had some time to realize where she was, she looked at the bedroom with clearer eyes.

  The whole place felt... well, too perfect. It was as if a Pinterest board exploded and everything just landed exactly where it needed to be.

  The bed was made with an obsessive precision, piles of soft blankets in a shade of beige, so different from how Juno’s bed was a chaotic mess.

  Little candles flickered on every surface, filling the air with the smell of lavender. It should’ve been soothing, maybe even comforting.

  But instead, it made Juno feel out of place once more, like she had no business being here. This wasn’t her world. This was a world where everything was planned, where even the pillows had a proper place, and it all felt too neat. Too perfect.

  She wandered over to the desk, where piles of journals sat. Some were leather-bound, others soft-covered. All of them were filled with words written in a soft, girly handwriting, from what Juno could see in the few pages she flipped through.

  She had no idea what she was expecting to find, but it wasn’t... this. Every journal was filled with observations.

  Random thoughts about the weather, about nature, about school. Recipes for cocoa. Plans. A record of what seemed like the most organized life a person could have. She hadn’t expected this Celia girl to be so meticulous about everything.

  Juno picked one up and flipped it open to the last entry she could find. Her eyes scanned the words, but the one that caught her attention was the final line:

  “Only 1 left. Then everything begins again.”

  It made no sense. The words didn’t connect, and Juno was too tired to try and decode them.

  Instead, she skimmed through more of the pages, trying to get a sense of what this “Project 365” was.

  There were cocoa recipes written with such care that it was almost obsessive: “Cinnamon, oat milk, and pink marshmallows” was the combination for the first cup of Project 365. A new recipe every day, ranging from a typical-sounding cocoa to an extravagant, luxurious one.

  Juno hadn’t been a huge fan of cocoa—at least, she wasn’t before she found herself in Celia’s body—but something about the ritual, the need for routine, stuck in her brain.

  Maybe she had to follow through with it, see if it meant anything. Maybe, just maybe, it would explain why she was here, in Celia’s world.

  Without thinking, she walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the ingredients from the shelves: oat milk, cinnamon, and a bag of pink marshmallows that sat just perfectly on top of the rest of the food.

  Even the marshmallows had their own order in Celia’s world. I would have picked coffee over cocoa, but what the hell, Juno thought. I have to make this work somehow, and see if this Project 365 explains anything.

  She made the cup, following the recipe exactly as it was written. When she took the first sip, it was warm, sweet, and comforting in a way she didn’t expect. She almost felt like she belonged in this strange life for a second.

  But the warmth didn’t last long. It was soon replaced by the coldness of reality. She was in someone else’s body, trying to figure out a life that wasn’t hers.

  The next thing she had to do was face the outside world, which only meant one thing to a sixteen-year-old: high school.

  Juno was already annoyed that school hadn’t been cancelled. After how brutally cold it had been the night before, she expected a snow day.

  But apparently, the city was used to this kind of cold. Perpetual winter meant perpetual school, too. No exceptions.

  She trudged through the frost-covered streets with her borrowed boots crunching against the icy pavement, hands jammed into pockets that weren’t hers.

  The sky was still a pale, snow-heavy gray, but the air had warmed just enough to make the snow damp at the edges. Slush splattered up her tights with every step. Her breath fogged in front of her.

  When she reached the front gates of St. Edda’s Academy, the building loomed like a cathedral: all gray stone, pointed arches, and iron-gated fences lined with icicles.

  A thin stream of students in plaid skirts and navy blazers filed in through the front doors, laughing, yawning, and shivering in small clusters.

  She caught snippets of conversation as she walked past.

  “Did you hear? It hit negative thirty-three last night.”

  “No way. I swear my windows cracked from the inside.”

  “I saw someone’s cocoa mug frozen solid on their porch. Just... frozen.”

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  Juno said nothing. She was too busy trying to figure out how to move like someone she’d never met.

  Celia’s uniform fit her disturbingly well. Where Juno’s old skirt had always felt too big, Celia’s skirt hugged her waist snugly. The blazer sleeves hit just the right length. The shoes didn’t even pinch. It felt like the world’s oddest cosplay.

  The old Juno would’ve hunched her shoulders, tried to disappear behind a scarf. But today, she straightened her back and forced her chin up the way she imagined Celia might.

  She could pretend, just for a while. She had to.

  Juno realized, sometime between brushing Celia’s teeth and buttoning up her blazer, that there was one thing missing: her school ID. Or rather, Celia’s.

  Odd. A girl like Celia was the type who probably laid her uniform out the night before and aligned her pens by ink color. But the thought drifted in and out, quick as breath, buried beneath the louder panic of stepping into someone else’s life.

  It wasn’t the missing ID that bothered her, not really. It was the fact that she was wearing Celia’s clothes. Her shoes. Her face. And walking into a day that was never meant to be hers.

  According to Celia’s journal her locker was supposed to be near Juno’s, or so she assumed. The problem was, Juno had no idea where Celia’s locker actually was.

  The school halls stretched out like a maze, each section a mirror of the next, and for all Juno knew, Celia could have actually had her locker on the other side of the school.

  Maybe that note in her journal was written ages ago. It wasn’t like Celia had handed her a map or left behind any hints about what she would do, where she would go.

  Juno shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, hoping no one would notice how out of place she felt.

  How was she supposed to know what locker Celia used? What classes she was taking? Where her friends were? What if there were people who knew Celia, people who were expecting her, the real Celia, to show up today?

  She rounded the corner, trying to look confident, walking as if she had any idea where she was going, even though she was completely lost.

  She bumped into a group of girls talking in the hallway. They were laughing, in the middle of some inside joke, when one of them paused mid-sentence and gave Juno a curious look. She was blonde, like Celia was—like I am, Juno corrected herself mid-thought—with a bright smile.

  “Hey, Celia, you okay?” the girl asked, her tone both casual but sharp, like she was trying to gauge if something was off.

  Juno began to recall where she saw this girl. She looked just like that girl who was running for school council president months ago. So Celia was friends with her? But her name completely escaped Juno’s mind. In her actual world, other girls—or people, in general—didn’t really need a sideways glance.

  Juno blinked at her. “Um, yeah, I’m fine,” she said quickly, but the words sounded like they were falling out of her mouth without any thought behind them. “Just… tired.”

  The girl didn’t seem convinced, but before she could ask anything else, another girl, with curly red hair and a thick black eyeliner, stepped forward.

  “You look a little… different today,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, I—I just didn’t sleep well last night, you know?” Juno babbled, the words tumbling over one another. “I’ve been… busy with school stuff.”

  The blonde girl raised an eyebrow. “School stuff, huh?” she said, a little too knowingly. “Sure.”

  The conversation seemed to stall for a second, the awkwardness hanging in the air. Juno tried to act like she was still part of the group, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a stranger among them.

  “Alright, well, we should get to class,” the curly-haired girl finally said, offering a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  Juno nodded, but she didn’t even know where her class was. Was she supposed to walk with them? Where was her first class?

  As they walked off, Juno stood frozen for a second, trying to figure out where she was supposed to go.

  That’s when she spotted Aaron down the hall. He looked calm and collected, but there was a change in his expression when he saw her. He narrowed his eyes, studying her.

  “You alright, Celia?” he asked, his voice laced with a trace of concern.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Juno said, giving him the same answer she had given the girls, but this time her voice wavered just a bit. “Just… a long night, like I said earlier.”

  Aaron didn’t look completely convinced, but he didn’t press her either. Instead, he gave her an almost too-careful smile and walked off without another word.

  Juno watched him go, her heart thudding in her chest. Who else had Celia’s life? What was she supposed to do next?

  —-----

  The entire day felt like a blur. She went through the motions of sitting in classes that weren’t hers, trying to blend in.

  But nothing felt right. She didn’t know the students, she didn’t know the material, and she definitely didn’t know where Celia was supposed to be after class.

  The whole time, she kept thinking about the journal she’d left behind at home, the strange project, and the gnawing feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be here.

  When she finally made her way back to Celia’s room after school, the quiet of it only seemed to amplify her confusion.

  She sat down at the desk, feeling the weight of the room press down on her, and pulled out the journal once more. Her eyes fell once more to the final words Celia wrote.

  "Only 1 left. Then everything begins again."

  What did that mean? Was it a countdown? Juno rubbed her temples, trying to push past the headache forming. Before she could get lost in the words again, there was a knock at the door.

  It was Aaron.

  He didn’t wait for an invitation. He opened the door and leaned inside. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I need to ask you something. Where were you last night, after work? Did you stay somewhere else before going home?”

  Juno froze. Her stomach dropped. Aaron was looking at her like she was someone else. Someone he didn’t recognize.

  “I… I don’t remember,” she said, feeling the panic creeping in. “I must’ve just… gotten caught up with stuff. You know how it is.”

  Aaron studied her for a moment, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t press further. “Alright,” he said slowly, as if the answer didn’t sit right with him. “Just… next time, text or something. Don’t scare me like that.”

  He left, leaving Juno with nothing but a quiet room and a pounding heart.

  How was she supposed to keep this up? How was she supposed to pretend to be someone she’d never even known?