Aya sat cross-legged on her bed, the ancient coin glinting dully in the sliver of moonlight seeping through her curtains. Her laptop lay forgotten beside her, its screen dimmed. All her research was done — the arcane script translated, the conditions understood. The coin didn’t just grant a wish. It granted transformation. Through longing, it said. Through the need that burned so bright inside you, it rewrote your shape.
Aya’s longing was clear.
To be close to them. To be needed. To never be ignored again.
She rubbed her thumb over the etched face of the coin, its edges warm as if pulsing with her thoughts. A single word whispered in her mind: Choose.
But what?
Her eyes drifted to the baby monitor on her nightstand. Emi’s soft breathing came through like a lullaby, steady and peaceful.
A doll.
Pros: Permanent. Loved. Held close. Emi would cling to her, sleep with her. She’d be a comfort object, maybe even kept into toddlerhood and beyond.
Cons: Still. Lifeless. No voice. No way to react. Would she feel Emi’s arms? Would she be aware? Could she cry out if she changed her mind?
A diaper.
Aya wrinkled her nose.
Pros: Constant contact. Always with Emi. An essential part of her daily care.
Cons: Disposable. Gross. Degrading. No lasting place in Emi’s heart, just a utility.
“No,” she whispered aloud. “Not that.”
A onesie.
Pros: Worn close. Soft. Intimate. Something Emi would live in.
Cons: Grows out of it. Washed, forgotten, outgrown. The touch might be fleeting. Replaced.
A bottle.
Pros: Nurturing. Central to bonding. Her mother’s hands would cradle it too. She’d be part of that moment again.
Cons: Just another tool. Interchangeable. Washed and stacked, cold between feedings.
Her eyes stung.
A pacifier.
Her breath hitched.
Pros: Comfort. Constant use. Emi wouldn’t sleep without it. She’d cry for it. Hold it, mouth it, love it. It would be a source of peace, a crutch. A need.
Her mom would search for it in the dark. Hold it to Emi’s lips. Whisper to it.
Cons: Silence. Muffled. Humbling. Could she bear becoming that?
Aya stared down at the coin, the air thick with emotion. Her throat ached with the weight of what she was about to do. But more than anything, she wanted to belong again. To be part of her mother’s world. To matter.
She closed her fingers around the coin.
“I want to be something Emi can’t sleep without,” she whispered. “Something she cries for in the night. Something Mama will always have to find.”
The coin warmed instantly, glowing faintly through her skin and floated off. The coin would decide for her.
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