They say you can't run from your past.
But what if you could rent a new face for 24 hours and haunt it instead?
I didn't choose the lips that would form the apology. I didn't choose the hands that would reach out, too late. I didn't even choose the eyes that would stare into his and pretend not to recognize the history written in his bones.
The body wasn't mine. But the heartbreak?
That was all me. Raw, Unedited... Mine.
"Welcome to Varia," the technician said, like I was checking into a hotel and not about to excavate my own grave. "Emotional closure transfer?"
I nodded, because what else do you do when you've come this far to say goodbye to someone who doesn't know they still own pieces of you?
I wasn't nervous, not exactly. But I wasn't calm either. There's a strange weight that settles on you when you're about to say goodbye... especially when you never got to say it properly the first time.
"Name of recipient?"
"Sebastian Vega," I said.
It still hurt to say his name. Like biting down on a chipped tooth.
"Duration?"
"Twenty-four hours."
"And purpose of transfer?"
I hesitated. What was I supposed to say?
To show him I'm fine without him?
To see if he ever really loved me? Or, to say what I couldn't when I was still me?
"…Closure," I whispered.
She nodded like she'd heard that word too many times to care anymore.
The procedure was surprisingly painless.
A soft clamp at the base of my neck. A rush of light. And then...
Suddenly, I wasn't me.
I was taller. Broader. Male.
My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored wall of the Varia transfer suite. Brown skin, crooked nose, lips shaped like they'd never said anything they didn't mean.
They'd picked well. A believable stranger. Someone Sebastian wouldn't recognize, but someone who could hold his gaze long enough for my words to land.
I walked differently and talked differently. My voice had an edge to it, sounded like a rasp.
It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
Sebastian still worked at that little ceramic studio on the East Side.
I knew because I'd checked... Three times.
I told myself it wasn't stalking. Just…emotional reconnaissance.
The bell above the studio door jingled as I stepped in.
He looked up.
And for a moment, time buckled.
Same hazel eyes, same half-smile, same hands that used to trace my spine like it was a map home.
But he didn't recognize me. Of course he didn't.
"Can I help you?" he asked, setting down a glazed bowl.
I nodded. "Just browsing."
I wandered. Pretended to admire a set of hand-painted espresso cups while I tried to slow the galloping in my chest.
He'd cut his hair shorter. His shoulders looked tenser. He hummed under his breath, still the same low tune he used to hum when cooking pasta at 2 a.m.
God, it hurt.
He walked over casually. "You new around here?"
"Sort of."
"You look like someone who's been through something."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
He smiled, brushing his hands on his apron. "It's a potter thing. We read people like we read clay. Yours feels…reformed and somehow... Pressured. Like you were one shape and now you're something else."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Instead, I asked, "Have you ever broken something so beautiful it made you scared to touch anything fragile again?"
He paused. The air stilled.
"Yeah," he said. "I have."
He was quiet for a long moment. "I used to love someone... And I ruined it. She was everything soft and sharp at once." He smiled in reminiscent "We fought hard and loved even harder. But I guess I… lost the thread somewhere... Because she left, no contact, no goodbye... Just gone."
I swallowed. "Why do you think she left?"
He looked at me with haunted eyes. "Because I stopped showing up."
God. That broke me.
It broke her.
It broke me.
I shouldn't have said anything. I should've kept it clean, like Varia recommended. But my voice betrayed me.
"She didn't want perfect," I said softly. "She just wanted real."
Sebastian froze.
"I—what did you say?"
"She waited," I continued, my borrowed heart hammering in my chest. "Through the late texts. The excuses. The weeks without words. She waited for you to remember she was there. You never did."
His breath caught.
"I don't know who you are," he whispered, "but you sound like someone I used to know."
I smiled, tears brimming. "Maybe I'm just someone who understands... Because I lost someone too" I knew I couldn't stay there for one more second because God Knows, just looking at his face and listening to his voice made me feel like a dam that was about to burst open.
I wasn't about to let the cat out of the bag, So, I turned to leave. Before the last bit of restraint sank like my heart always did with him.
I left. He didn't stop me.
He never had.
Back at Varia, the technician asked why my session was so short and if I had done what I came for.
I shook my head, "Turns out even as a different person... I still didn't have it in me."
He smiled like he was not new to situations like mine. He smiled but didn't say anything. Yet, His silence spoke volumes and I heard everything he didn't say. He helped reverse the transfer.
My limbs felt small again, my voice returned to its old, weathered timbre and my reflection stared back with familiar eyes.
But something had shifted. I had said what needed to be said. Even if he never knew it was me.
Even if I never got the apology I'd imagined.
I got closure. Or maybe, I thought I did.
By the time I got home the next day, There he was... Standing under the street light, a bouquet of lollipops in hand, just like he always did. He had found me, even though I moved two towns away from him. He had found me and he... Waited.
A tear drop slid down my cheeks as he hugged me in that embrace I didn't know I needed until now. He didn't say anything and neither did I, because sometimes words can't really express what we really need to say.
The moment my gaze met his, I realised that what took me to Varia was not Closure or Goodbye... It was a beginning in disguise.
Final Thought
Closure doesn't always come with a neat bow or a handwritten letter of apology.
Sometimes it's found in a voice that isn't yours, in a moment you don't own, in the freedom to walk away without needing the other person to follow.
Let go of the need for final words.
Speak your peace, even if no one hears it.
Because healing isn't about the other person understanding. It's about you choosing to stop bleeding.
And sometimes, the truest power is loving yourself enough to close the door... from the other side. Then... Maybe then, you'll shine enough for the other person to notice.