Author's Preface
Five days had passed.
Five days of waking up in a life that still didn’t feel like hers.
Every morning, Clara still expected to see the cream-colored ceiling of her old apartment, the one she had lived in alone after Marco’s death. Instead, she woke to pale Nordic light filtering through tall windows and the smell of coffee and tea from a kitchen that still didn’t feel like hers.
It was becoming a routine she hadn’t asked for, and yet… it was slowly becoming familiar.
She had stopped pinching herself every morning. Stopped waiting for herself to suddenly wake up as the sixty year old woman she remembered being. Because five days had been more than enough to realize one terrifying truth:
This wasn’t a dream. Whatever had happened to her… It hadn’t ended. It had become her reality.
Adjusting, however, had been far from easy. Every day felt like stepping into someone else’s life while pretending she had always belonged there.
She learned the route to the publishing house by heart. Memorized the names of colleagues who greeted her as though they had known one another for years. Smiled whenever someone mentioned memories she had never lived. Listened more than she spoke. Observed more than she questioned. She had become remarkably skilled at hiding confusion behind quiet smiles.
Fortunately…The Clara Rodriguez of this world seemed to share many of the same habits she did.
She still preferred tea over coffee. Still carried a tiny pouch filled with alcohol wipes, pain relievers, and bandages inside her handbag. Still loved notebooks more than digital planners.
Perhaps they had lived different lives, but somehow… pieces of them still overlapped. It made pretending easier.
At night, however… pretending became impossible. Her room in the apartment would fall quiet after she and Ingrid returned home, leaving Clara alone with thoughts she couldn’t avoid.
More than once, she sat on the living room floor past midnight, her laptop open on the coffee table, too many tabs glowing on the screen.
Quantum theory. Alternate universes. Time displacement. Temporal paradoxes.
She had searched everything she could think of... Scientific articles. Old theories. Even conspiracy forums she would have laughed at only weeks ago.
None of them explained how a retired Filipino widow had awakened inside the body of her twenty‑seven year‑old self in another reality.
There were nights she caught herself staring blankly at the screen before closing it altogether. No article could answer the question that mattered most: How do I go home? Her thoughts drifted, as they always did, to the people she had left behind.
Amara, was her daughter searching for her? Had she been reported missing? Or… did another version of Clara still exist there, living her life as though nothing had happened?
The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
Then there were her cats. Her dogs. Even the tiny plants she had fussed over every morning before breakfast. She wondered whether anyone had remembered to water them.
The loneliness came in waves. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes so suddenly that it stole the air from her lungs.
But despite everything… Clara had made one decision.
If she couldn’t find answers today… then she would live today. Waiting for a miracle while life continued around her had never been the kind of woman she was.
Whether she remained here for another day… Or another lifetime… she refused to spend it merely existing. She wanted to live. Even inside a life that wasn’t originally hers.
Monday morning arrived wrapped in crisp autumn air.
The Children’s Editorial Division buzzed with its usual rhythm. Phones rang. Printers hummed. Editors hurried between desks carrying manuscripts thick with colorful sticky notes. Illustrations for upcoming picture books were pinned neatly across one wall, filling the office with cheerful splashes of color that somehow softened the seriousness of publishing deadlines.
Clara had barely settled into her desk when a familiar voice called her name.
“Clara.” She looked up.
Liv Andersen stood beside her desk, one hand resting unconsciously beneath the gentle curve of her seven‑month pregnancy. Even dressed in a tailored cream blouse and navy maternity skirt, the head of the Children’s Editorial Division carried herself with quiet authority.
There was kindness in Liv’s face, but also the unmistakable confidence of someone who had spent years leading creative people through impossible deadlines.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” Clara stood immediately.
Liv smiled. “I’ve been reviewing your work over the past week.”
Clara felt her shoulders tense. “I hope I haven’t made too many mistakes.”
“Mistakes?” Liv laughed softly. “If anything, you’ve made my job easier.”
A faint blush colored Clara’s cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You stepped into Henrik’s responsibilities with almost no preparation.” Liv folded her arms comfortably. “And somehow you’ve kept the department running better than before.”
Clara looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I’ve only been doing what needed to be done.”
“I know.” Liv smiled again. “Which is precisely why I’d like you to join this morning’s executive meeting.”
For a second… Clara simply stared at her. “...Me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m only the interim coordinator.”
“You are, but you’re also the one coordinating this department every single day.” Liv tilted her head slightly. “I want you there so you can start getting used to rooms like that.”
Clara swallowed. Executive meeting. A meeting attended by department heads. Senior executives. And… their new CEO.
Almost instantly, an image surfaced in her mind. Steel‑gray eyes. Dark blond hair. The warmth of whiskey.
She froze.
Zoren Eikland.
The thirty‑three‑year‑old lawyer who had unexpectedly become CEO of one of Norway’s largest publishing houses.
The same man she had kissed. The same man whose face had somehow managed to appear in her thoughts almost every night since. Clara lowered her eyes. A knot tightened quietly in her chest. Then another memory followed.
Mikkel. His son.
She exhaled slowly. Of course. A man like Zoren Eikland— handsome, successful, and respected. He had a son, which almost certainly meant… he had a wife. A dull ache settled somewhere inside her. She had kissed a married man.
No … They had kissed each other. And somehow, that realization only made it worse. What was I thinking?
She tightened her grip around the tablet she had been holding. This is exactly why I didn’t want to go to that club. People lie. People wear wedding rings only after the party is over… or not at all.
She closed her eyes for the briefest moment before straightening her shoulders.
No.
Whatever had happened that night… would stay there. If fate insisted on placing them under the same roof again… then she would simply remain professional.
She wouldn’t seek him out. She wouldn’t speak unless necessary. She certainly wouldn’t look at him longer than courtesy required.
That, she decided firmly… would be the easiest part.
She had no way of knowing how spectacularly wrong she was.
The executive conference room occupied the top floor of Nordlys Publishing.
Tall windows looked out over Oslo’s harbor, where ferries moved across calm water under a pale sky. Morning light filled the room, warming the long oak table and the leather chairs around it, already filled with department heads and senior executives.
Editorial, Marketing, Sales, Finance, Production, Foreign Rights, Children's Publishing.
Each had arrived carrying reports, tablets, and concerns accumulated over weeks of declining numbers.
Clara quietly followed Liv into the room. The moment they entered, several colleagues greeted Liv with warm smiles and respectful nods.
“Good morning, Liv."
"Morning."
"How are you feeling today?”
Liv smiled politely, one hand resting absentmindedly over her seven‑month baby bump. "So far, she’s behaving herself,” she answered with a soft laugh. A few people chuckled before returning to their conversations.
Clara stayed close beside her, slowing down when Liv did. She carried both tablets and the presentation folders, taking the heavier load without being asked. It had become a quiet routine between them over the past several days.
Liv noticed. She always did. “Thank you,” she whispered as Clara placed the folders neatly on the table.
“It’s nothing.”
“It isn’t.”
Clara only smiled before taking the seat beside her. She folded her hands on top of the tablet resting before her.
Just stay quiet. Observe. Take notes. Nothing more.
She had no reason to speak today. No intention of speaking today. That was the safest plan.
The room continued filling with executives until the quiet conversations gradually softened into expectant silence. Then the conference doors opened.
Several senior executives entered first. Behind them came the new Chief Executive Officer.
Zoren Eikland.
Clara felt her heartbeat stumble. No. Don’t look. She promised herself she wouldn’t. She lowered her eyes toward the meeting agenda displayed on her tablet instead.
Quarterly Sales Review. Digital Performance. Editorial Reports. Strategic Planning.
Perfect. Nothing involving her.
Beside her, Liv leaned over slightly. "You look nervous.”
“I’m not.”
Liv smiled. “You’ve been staring at the same page for three minutes.”
Clara blinked. “...Have I?”
“You haven’t even unlocked your tablet.”
Clara looked down. The screen was still black. Heat crept into her cheeks. “Oh.”
Liv laughed softly. “Cute.”
Before Clara could answer, the room fell completely silent.
“Good morning, everyone.”
Zoren’s calm voice carried naturally across the conference room. It was different from the one she remembered. There was no whiskey softening it. No quiet intimacy. Only quiet authority.
He greeted several department heads before taking his seat at the head of the long conference table.
Today, there was nothing careless about him. His charcoal suit fit perfectly against his broad frame. Every strand of blond hair had been carefully combed into place. A navy silk tie rested neatly against the crisp white shirt beneath his tailored jacket. His silver watch caught the morning light as he adjusted the documents before him.
He looked professional and collected.
The lawyer had disappeared. The CEO had arrived.
Clara kept her eyes firmly fixed on her tablet. Good. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him look at you. Let’s survive this meeting.
The meeting began promptly.
Department after department presented their quarterly reports. Charts appeared across the large presentation screen.
“Our domestic sales have declined another eleven percent this quarter.”
“The educational division remains stable.”
“Foreign licensing continues to exceed projections.”
“The Children’s Division has dropped eight percent compared to last year.”
One presentation followed another.
Marketing blamed changing consumer habits.
Sales blamed shrinking bookstore traffic.
Production pointed toward increasing printing costs.
Finance recommended reducing publication schedules to minimize losses.
Around the table, opinions began overlapping.
“The market simply isn’t what it used to be.”
“Families aren’t buying physical books anymore.”
“They’re choosing tablets.”
Another executive sighed. “We’ve doubled our marketing budget twice. The numbers barely moved.”
The discussion slowly circled the same conclusions. Everyone understood the problem. No one seemed certain how to solve it.
Throughout the conversation, Zoren remained unusually quiet. He listened and observed. Occasionally making notes on the tablet before him.
Finally, he looked around the room. “So...” His voice remained calm. “What exactly are we missing?”
Silence answered him. No one volunteered. No one seemed eager to guess. The room settled into thoughtful quiet once again.
Beside Clara, Liv gently tapped the end of her pen against the conference folder resting before her. Then she turned slightly toward Clara.
“What do you think?” Her voice was low. Quiet enough that only Clara could hear.
Clara blinked. “Me?”
Liv smiled. “Yes, you. You’ve been suspiciously quiet all morning. I know that face.”
She leaned closer. “It means your brain is already arguing with everyone in this room.”
A reluctant smile escaped Clara. “I wasn’t arguing.”
“No?”
“No.”
“You were judging us, then.”
Clara let out a quiet laugh. “I wasn’t doing that either.”
“Then tell me what you were thinking.”
Clara hesitated. She glanced briefly around the conference room before leaning slightly closer. “I just…” She paused. “I think… we’re asking the wrong question.”
Liv tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Clara lowered her voice further, speaking almost as though she were thinking aloud. “We’ve spent the entire meeting talking about how to save printed books.” She looked toward the sales reports projected on the large screen. “But maybe… we shouldn’t be trying to save books.”
Liv frowned thoughtfully. Clara continued. “We should be asking how to make our stories easier to reach.”
The older woman remained silent. Listening. Encouraging her. So Clara continued. “We already own the stories. What if every title were released in multiple formats from the very beginning?”
“Printed editions.”
“E‑books.”
“Audiobooks narrated by professional voice actors.”
She paused. “And eventually… our own reading platform.”
Liv’s eyebrows lifted. Clara smiled faintly.
“Parents could switch between reading and listening whenever they wanted. Children could follow along while learning to read. There could be interactive illustrations. Read‑along narration. Educational activities connected to every story.”
“We wouldn’t be replacing printed books. We’d simply stop forcing readers to experience stories in only one way.”
Silence followed. Clara finally looked back toward Liv. “...That’s probably what I’d do.”
Liv simply stared at her. For several long seconds, she didn’t say a word.
“What?” Clara asked cautiously.
A slow smile spread across Liv’s face. One filled with quiet pride. Then... before Clara could react, Liv turned toward the head of the conference table.
“I think,” she said clearly, her voice carrying across the room, “my Editorial Coordinator may have just shared the most interesting idea we’ve heard all morning.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “...Liv.”
The conversations stopped. One by one, every head in the conference room turned toward them. Clara felt every ounce of color drain from her face.
Liv smiled without the slightest trace of apology. “I believe everyone deserves to hear it.”
Clara stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh…” Liv gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “I’m completely serious.”
Then, with the quiet confidence of someone who genuinely believed in the person beside her, she smiled.
“Go on, Clara.”
For one brief, horrifying second… Clara genuinely considered pretending to faint.