Different Ways to Reach Home

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***

Evelyn knew something was wrong the moment she woke up. At first, it was just a feeling — nagging, and growing stronger.

She was dizzy, yet everything was strangely clear and sharp. Painfully sharp.

These light, smooth satin sheets… Where had they come from? Who would dare wash them at 60 degrees with bleach?

Absurd.

She never bought things like this.

Yet, she had. And she couldn’t remember when.

Was she losing her mind?

She sat up so abruptly that the dizziness became unbearable. Jumping out of bed, she rushed to the bathroom.

She nearly tripped over the ridiculous pink fluffy slippers next to her bed.

What the hell was going on?

Could it be a prank? Maybe her boyfriend, Nathan, was messing with her? But… when? How?

Yes, she had drunk more than she should have last night, but she clearly remembered calling a taxi, the kind smile of the elderly, silver-haired driver in the rearview mirror, and then…

Nothing.

A complete blackout.

Had someone slipped something into her gin?

The nausea had subsided. She turned on the cold water and splashed her face, smoothing down her wild hair, which — 

Oh, God!

Her hair looked like a crazed bird’s nest! Curls? She didn’t do curls! She straightened her hair religiously every morning. But now, in the mirror, two innocent, cornflower-blue eyes stared back at her, framed by glossy, bouncy curls — her horrible, natural curls!

She buried her fingers in them and groaned. She looked like a damn poodle!

She had no memory of showering in the middle of the night, let alone washing her hair. That was impossible! Washing her hair was an ordeal — requiring tons of hydrating masks to get a comb through it.

Thank God for hair straighteners!

She refused to let her own hair ruin her day.

Until this horrible morning.

Then her gaze landed on the ridiculous pink nightgown she was wearing. More lace, more ruffles!

Had she stumbled into some reality show? A hidden camera prank?

She stormed out of the bathroom and the first thing she did was kick the absurd pink slippers across the room.

This place looked like a twisted version of her apartment. As if someone had deliberately altered everything into her worst nightmare.

The doorbell rang. She grabbed the first thing she could find to cover herself — an equally ridiculous plush robe draped over a garish armchair. Well, at least it would hide the sickeningly sheer pink negligee she had woken up in.

He was there! Her boyfriend!

Nathan!

“Sweetheart — “

The words died in her throat. What the hell had happened to him?

When had he cut his shoulder-length hair? And that suit?! Since when did Nathan wear a suit instead of his signature studded leather biker jacket?

What kind of blasphemy was this?!

“Evie, my darling!” he crooned theatrically, and Evelyn choked in horror.

Evie?!

Hadn’t they agreed — no cutesy nicknames? No “kitten,” “honey,” or “sunshine”?

Brrr! She shuddered.

This was a nightmare? Yes! That had to be it! She was dreaming!

Evelyn pinched her thigh hard, gritting her teeth.

Nothing changed. Except now she’d have a massive bruise.

Nathan leaned in, kissed her on the cheek (the cheek?!), and handed her a massive bouquet of blood-red roses.

Evelyn groaned. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Idiot! Absolute idiot!

How could he give her dead flowers? And weren’t they both not the romantic type?

Okay… maybe that was a bit of a lie.

She’d always secretly hoped for a thoughtful surprise… or for him to just once plan a date instead of leaving everything to her.

“Sweetie, aren’t you ready? We agreed to have breakfast at that new café with the garden, remember?”

New café? Breakfast?!

Evelyn mumbled something, clutched the bouquet, and dragged herself to the kitchen, searching for something to shove the miserable, plucked roses into.

Maybe she should smash them onto Nathan’s perfectly gelled hair.

She made a face, dropped the bouquet onto the kitchen table, and walked up to him.

“What is going on?” she demanded, staring into his eyes.

Something was off.

He looked like Nathan… but he wasn’t Nathan.

On impulse, Evelyn rose on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

The man stiffened like a board. He felt like… plastic.

“Now isn’t the right time for that,” he said, pulling away.

The right time?!

“We agreed — intimacy is every second Saturday of the month, and if we’re both free, the third Wednesday as well.”

Evelyn took a step back, speechless.

She turned and bolted for the bathroom. This time, she was going to throw up.

The world spun. Everything went dark.

________________________________________

“Miss, we’ve arrived at your home.”

Evelyn jolted awake.

The elderly taxi driver smiled warmly at her in the rearview mirror.

“Oh… uh… thanks,” she mumbled.

Yes! Thank God! She had been dreaming!

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, searching for the meter on the dashboard.

There wasn’t one.

The man handed her a folded note. In neat, slanted handwriting, it read:

“Sometimes, wishes come true — but not in the way we imagine. So, it’s best to make the most of what we already have. Take your beloved to the charity fair in two days and make someone in need a little happier.”

At the bottom was the event information.

“If you do that,” the driver said, “that will be payment enough. I don’t take money, my dear.”

“Then why… did you drive me home?”

“Because sometimes, we need someone else to show us the way.”

Evelyn sighed.

“So… was that real?”

“It could have been real. But was it better?”

Evelyn ran a hand through her hair.

It was sleek and straight — just the way she liked it.

“I think I really was lost,” she murmured. “Thank you for showing me how to find my way back.”

She stepped out and walked toward her building.

Before going inside, she turned back.

The taxi was gone.

***

Thank you for reading.