I Am Now An Actress?

Present Day

Lucy heard the front door open just as she finished arranging the plates on the dining table. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and hurried toward the entrance. “Stephen, you're back,” she said, offering him a tired smile. “How was work today?”

Stephen stepped inside, loosening his tie as he walked past her. “Long. Very long.”

“Did your meeting with the investors go well?” She asked.

“It was fine.”

Lucy followed him into the living room. “That's good. I was hoping you would tell me more about it. You said they were interested in funding your next production.” Stephen dropped his briefcase beside the sofa. “Lucy, can I sit down first? I've barely had a moment to breathe since morning.”

“Of course. I'm sorry.”

She stepped aside, watching him settle onto the sofa and reach for his phone. For a moment, she considered leaving him alone, but something inside her refused to let the question go. “Stephen, there's something I wanted to ask you.”

He kept his eyes on his screen. “What is it?”

"It's a reminder again about Bryan's school fees and some other expenses. I know things have been difficult lately, but I was wondering if you could give me some money tomorrow.”

Stephen finally looked up. “Again?”

Lucy frowned. “Again? I haven't asked you for anything this week.”

“There's always something with you, Lucy. School fees, groceries, one expense or another. Do you think money grows on trees?”

“I didn't say that. Bryan needs a few things, and I thought—”

“Then think of something else.” Stephen returned his attention to his phone. “I'm tired. Please don't start this again today.”

Lucy stood silently beside the sofa, her fingers tightening around the kitchen towel. She wanted to remind him that Bryan was his son too. She wanted to ask when providing for his own family had become such an unbearable burden. Instead, she swallowed her words.

“I wish I had money, then I would take care of my son and wouldn't have to bother you anymore,” she whispered. “I'll find a way.”

Stephen did not respond. Lucy turned toward the dining room, but before she could take another step, a strange wave of dizziness swept over her. She stopped. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet, and the walls blurred before her eyes.

"What is happening"?

She pressed one hand against the wall, hoping the feeling would pass.

“Stephen,” she called weakly.

He glanced up. “What now?”

“Something's wrong. I don't feel—”

Her knees gave way and she slumped. “Lucy!” Stephen sprang from the sofa just as she collapsed. He caught her before her head struck the floor and lowered her carefully onto the carpet.

“Lucy, can you hear me?” She could hear him, but his voice sounded distant, as though he were calling to her from the other side of a deep tunnel.

“Lucy, open your eyes!” He patted her cheek, his expression changing when she failed to respond.

“Lucy, stop playing around. Wake up!” but she could not answer him. Her body felt strangely light, and the darkness surrounding her seemed to pull her farther away from the room.

Then she heard another voice. A man's voice, unfamiliar yet urgent. “Isabella? Isabella, can you hear me?” Lucy struggled to understand. "Isabella? Who is Isabella?"

“Doctor, her fingers moved!” another voice exclaimed.

“Isabella, if you can hear me, please open your eyes.” Lucy tried to move, but her body felt heavy. Her eyelids resisted her efforts until, with great difficulty, she managed to open them.

Bright lights greeted her. She winced and turned her face away.

“Easy. Don't move too quickly.” A man in a white coat leaned over her, studying her face with an expression of disbelief and relief.

“Isabella?” he whispered.

Lucy stared at him.

“Thank God,” he breathed, taking her hand. “You're awake.”

She tried to speak, but her throat felt painfully dry.

“Where…” Her voice cracked. “Where am I?”

The doctor immediately reached for a glass of water.

“Don't force yourself to talk yet. You've been unconscious for a long time.”

Unconscious?

Lucy stared at him, her heart beginning to pound.

The last thing she remembered was Stephen's face above hers, his hands shaking as he tried to wake her.

She remembered the carpet beneath her body.

She remembered the darkness.

“Stephen?” she whispered.

The doctor's expression changed slightly. “Stephen? Who is Stephen?”

Lucy froze.

Before she could answer, he leaned closer.

“Isabella, it's Justin. Do you recognize me?”

Justin?

She stared at the man holding her hand, trying desperately to understand why he was looking at her as though she had returned from the dead.

“Where is my husband?” she demanded, forcing herself to sit up.

“Your husband?” Justin repeated, visibly confused.

“My son! Where is Bryan?”

“Isabella, please calm down. You're in the hospital. You've been in a coma, and you need to rest.”

Lucy barely heard him.

She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Wait!” Justin caught her arm. “You can't get up yet.”

“Let go of me!”

“Isabella, listen to me. You've only just regained consciousness.”

She pulled away, but the room spun around her. Justin quickly steadied her before she could fall.

“Please,” he said gently. “Don't hurt yourself.”

Lucy looked down at her hands.They were not her hands. Her fingers were slender, her nails carefully shaped, and her skin looked different. She touched her face, then her hair, her breathing growing faster with every passing second.

“No,” she whispered.

Justin watched her with growing concern. “What is it?”

“No, no, no…”

Lucy stumbled toward the mirror mounted beside the wardrobe. She gripped the edge of the dressing table and slowly raised her head.

A beautiful woman stared back at her. Lucy stopped breathing. The woman's face was one she had seen countless times on television, magazine covers, and movie posters. The same face Stephen had admired for years. The actress he had desperately wanted to feature in a Blackwood Productions movie.

Isabella Hartley.

Lucy stared at the reflection, waiting for it to change. She touched her cheek, and the woman in the mirror did the same. She raised a trembling hand to her lips, and the reflection followed.

It wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a photograph.

She was looking at herself through another woman's face. “Isabella?” Justin called from behind her. “What's wrong? You're frightening me.”

Lucy barely heard him. Her thoughts raced back to the last few days, each memory crashing into the next.

She remembered the zombies flooding the streets. She remembered Stephen driving away with Vanessa, leaving her and Bryan behind. She remembered the terrible choice she had made when the infected surrounded them.

She had sacrificed herself so her son could run. She had died but that wasn't the end. She had opened her eyes six months before the apocalypse, back in her own body. Bryan had been alive, small and warm in her arms, and she had promised herself that she would never allow anyone to take him from her again.

For two days, she had believed she had been given a second chance. Two precious days to change their fate. Two days to prepare for the nightmare she knew was coming. And now? Now she was standing in a hospital room, wearing the face of a woman who wasn't her. Lucy gripped the dressing table until her knuckles turned white. "No. This cannot be happening".

She turned toward Justin, searching his face for an explanation.

“Doctor, what happened to me?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Why do I look like this?”

Justin's expression tightened with worry. “Isabella, you've just woken up after a long coma. You may be confused. We need to run some tests.”

“I'm not confused!”

Her voice rang through the room. Justin fell silent. Lucy looked back at the mirror. The actress's beautiful face stared back at her, but behind those unfamiliar eyes lived the memories of a wife who had been betrayed, a mother who had died protecting her child, and a woman who had been given a second chance she barely understood.

She had returned to her own body, she had found Bryan alive, she had promised to save him. So how had she ended up here? Why was she inside Isabella Hartley's body? And if she was no longer Lucy Hart, what had happened to the Lucy who had awakened two days earlier?

A terrible thought settled over her. What if I can never return to Bryan? Her heart pounded as she stared at the reflection, suddenly afraid of what this second chance might cost her. She had escaped death only to wake up as someone else. Someone rich. Someone famous. Someone whose life had nothing to do with hers.

Yet she could not escape the truth staring back at her.

“Oh, God…” Lucy whispered, her blood running cold. “What am I doing in Isabella Hartley's body?”