Chapter 15
Mylene took charge like a shopping angel. She asked for sizes, asked what they liked (I guessed glitter and chaos), and somehow managed to assemble a full wardrobe for all three girls in under thirty minutes.
Shoes. Underwear. Uniforms. A special “apology” shirt for Maya that read Too Cool to Listen. I almost cried.
“Thank you,” I said as we waited in line at the register. “You’re a saint.”
“You’ll return the favor someday. Maybe to someone else. Maybe to me when I lose my mind next week.”
She left with a wave and a smile, and I stood there, arms full of bright colored bags and baby Jaya drooling on a fresh pack of socks.
Few hours of shopping felt like I was in a jungle in the Amazon forest. It was scary as hell.
Now, we drove back with the backseat overflowing with tiny clothes and my heart… heavy.
This body—Catherine’s—had struggled so long. Alone. Poor. Tired. Forgotten. I couldn’t believe I had once pitied myself for being stuck here.
But now?
I had a reason.
And hell hath no fury like a billionaire trapped in a soft woman’s body, driving a secondhand yellow car, and armed with glitter leggings and the desire for revenge.
Driving home, the van hummed like a lazy bumblebee as we cruised through town. The power steering was a gift from the gods. The visibility? Divine. I could see kids crossing the street, confused squirrels, and even judgmental old ladies walking their dogs in sweaters.
As I drove past a KFC's, Jaya pointed and made a sound that vaguely resembled “Mommy!”
“Fine,” I sighed. “Let’s try this modern poison.”
I pulled in, ordered enough food to feed a marching band, and absolutely destroyed two cheeseburgers before we even made it to the parking lot exit. It was greasy, salty, undeniably sinful—and amazing. Like biting into a memory I never had but missed dearly.
I ordered extras for the girls. Fried chicken, mashed potato, chicken nuggets. Baby Meals. Fries. And a takeout box for Jhing-Jhing and her little minions, because honestly, she deserved it just for dealing with me and my weird energy lately.
Back home, Maya and Aliya ran outside like caffeinated deer when they saw the van. Their eyes widened when I unloaded bags of food like Santa on a cheat day.
“Mom, where’d we get this car?” Maya asked.
“Did someone die and give it to us?” Aliya said, munching on fries.
I laughed. “I won the lottery.”
Their eyes popped like cartoon owls.
“AGAIN?”
“HOW MUCH?”
“ARE WE RICH NOW?”
“CAN I GET A PHONE?”
“CAN I BUY SLIME IN BULK?”
They barraged me with questions like paparazzi on a scandal, while Jaya smacked ketchup onto the floor like a modern artist.
I smiled through it. Lied like a seasoned politician. Gave vague answers. Ate another burger. And for the first time since waking up in Catherine’s body, I actually felt… capable.
Exhausted, yes. Sweaty in all the wrong places? Absolutely. But capable.
The next morning, I found myself standing by the window, staring at the early sun like some moody poet waiting for inspiration. My back hurt. My thighs ached. My shoulders? Nonexistent—probably melted into the mattress overnight. I needed to do something, anything, before I started growing roots into the couch cushions.
And so I decided: It’s gym time.
But before I could imagine myself sweating on a treadmill like a majestic walrus, I had to deal with one very loud, very sticky toddler.
“Jaya,” I muttered as she clung to my leg with a juice box in one hand and a mystery stain already on her shirt, “you’re the boss around here, aren’t you?”
She answered by burping. Loudly. Then tried to feed me her half-chewed banana like I owed her something.
Yeah. I needed backup.
I made my way across the hall to Jhing-Jhing’s unit. She was wearing a glittery robe and hair curlers that defied gravity. The moment she opened the door, she raised an eyebrow like she already knew I was about to ask something insane.
“Oh wow,” she said. “Catherine, you look like a couch pillow that’s been through the washing machine.”
“That’s flattering, thank you,” I said, dragging my feet inside. “Hey, do you know someone—anyone—who can watch Jaya for, say, three to four hours? Just a few hours. I’ll pay handsomely.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why? You going somewhere fancy? A date? Running from debt collectors again?”
I rolled my eyes. “I told you, I won a little something in the lottery.”
“Define little,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Just enough to buy a used van, a few Happy Meals, and an iPhone. Nothing dramatic. I’m not moving to Dubai. Yet.”
Jhing-Jhing sighed and rubbed her temple. “Catherine, you’re scaring me. Since when do you talk like a mafia wife on vacation?”
I laughed nervously. “Since back pain became a lifestyle.”
“Fine, I’ll look after Jaya,” she said, already reaching for a bag of toys. “I don’t trust strangers with that little demon.”
“You’re a saint.”
“I know. You owe me a Starbucks.”
“Make it two, a three muffin and five cheese flatbread.”