This choice: A boy/man is waiting for his mother/gf to try on an outfit • Go Back...Chapter #5Switched Gazes by: Unknown   Near the entrance of a boutique, Daniel, a lanky young man with tousled brown hair, stood beside Grace, his girlfriend. She held a handful of dresses against her chest, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I think I’ll try these on," Grace said, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Be right back, okay?"
Daniel grinned, his cheeks dimpling. "Can’t wait to see you in them." His voice was warm, full of the kind of adoration reserved for someone deeply in love.
A few feet away, Evan, a wiry teenager with a mop of blond hair, shifted awkwardly beside his mother, Patricia. She held up a silky blouse, examining it with a critical eye. "I’ll try this one first," Patricia said, her tone practical. "Then we can grab lunch after." Evan nodded absently, scrolling through his phone. "Yeah, sure, Mom."
You smirked. Perfect. A wicked idea sparked in your mind. you focused on Daniel and Evan. You planning to swapped their perspectives—not their memories, not their knowledge, but the very way they saw their loved ones.
With a flick of your will. You reached into Daniel’s mind and twisted—not his memories, not his knowledge, but the very lens through which he saw Grace. The love remained, but its shape morphed. Where once there was romantic longing, now there was the tender, protective affection of a son for his mother. He still knew Grace was his girlfriend, still cherished her, but the thought of kissing her felt… wrong, like an instinctive recoil from something taboo.
Then you turned to Evan. His perception of Patricia unraveled and rewrote itself in reverse. The familiar, comfortable love for his mother twisted into something fervent and yearning. He still knew she was his mother, but his heart raced when she smiled, his palms grew clammy when she touched his arm. The affection was dizzying, intoxicating, and feels romantic.
Neither Daniel nor Evan noticed the change yet. Their minds had seamlessly accepted the new reality, as if it had always been this way.
Grace stepped into the changing room, blissfully unaware. Patricia followed suit, disappearing behind another curtain.
Some time later, The changing room door clicked open, and Grace stepped out in a flowing sundress, the soft fabric swaying as she spun playfully. "Well? What do you think?" she asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.
Daniel blinked. The sight of Grace—his girlfriend—should have sent his pulse racing, should have made him want to pull her close and whisper something flirty in her ear. But instead, warmth spread through his chest, fond and familiar, like watching his mom get ready for a dinner date with his dad.
"You look… really nice, Mom," he said before catching himself. His face flushed, and he quickly laughed it off. "I mean—wow. You look wow."
Grace giggled, tilting her head. "Mom? Really?" She reached out and ruffled his hair. "That’s a new one. Are you trying to be cute?"
Daniel’s stomach twisted oddly. He should have been flustered in a good way, but instead, he felt like a kid caught doing something silly. "Yeah, just messing around," he lied, rubbing the back of his neck. He studied Grace again—the way the dress hugged her curves, the way she smiled. It was pretty, sure, but in the way a son admires his mother’s effort to look nice. No heat, no hunger. Just… affection.
Grace twirled again, oblivious. "I think I’m getting this one. Maybe the blue one too?"
"Yeah, you should. It suits you." Daniel nodded. "Like a mom’s dress should." The thought floated through his mind, natural as breathing.
Nearby, Patricia emerged from her changing room, her selected blouses folded neatly over her arm. Evan’s head snapped up, his heart pounding. He had expected her to come out wearing one, to give him something to admire—but no. She was already done.
His stomach dropped.
"Alright, I’ve got the ones I like," Patricia said, adjusting her purse. "Ready for lunch?"
Evan swallowed. His fingers twitched at his sides. He needed to see her in those blouses. Needed it like a lovesick idiot needed his girlfriend’s attention.
"Wait—" He stepped closer, voice dropping into something embarrassingly eager. "Aren’t you gonna model them for me, Patty—uh, Mom?" He coughed, cheeks burning. "I mean, you have to. They’d look amazing on you. Stunning. Gorgeous." The words spilled out, syrupy and desperate.
Patricia blinked. "Patty? Since when do you call me that?"
Evan’s brain scrambled for an excuse. "Uh—just heard it in a movie. Thought it was cute." He forced a grin. "Come on, just try one on? For me?"
Patricia studied him, one eyebrow arched. Then she smirked. "Alright, what’s the real reason you’re buttering me up? New video game? Extra allowance?"
Evan’s pulse stuttered. "No! I just—" He fumbled, then sighed dramatically. "Fine, maybe I was hoping you’d say yes to that new game if I was extra nice." Evan agree to it as an excuse, even though in reality, the reason was very different.
Patricia laughed, shaking her head. "You’re ridiculous." But she was smiling, and Evan’s chest swelled with stupid, giddy hope.
"Does that mean you’ll try one on?" he pressed.
She rolled her eyes but relented. "One. Then we eat."
Evan nearly cheered.
As Patricia disappeared back into the changing room, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But the orb’s magic had rewired him, and now all he could think was: "I can’t wait to see her."
This was wrong, Evan thought. "She was his mother." But when she stepped out moments later in a fitted lavender blouse, his traitorous heart skipped.
"Well?" Patricia asked, arms crossed.
"You—you look really pretty," Evan mumbled, eyes darting away.
Patricia laughed. "Okay, seriously. You’re definitely getting something out of this. We’ll talk about that it after lunch. But no promises."
Evan forced a grin, but inside, his mind was a storm of guilt and helpless longing.
You watched from a distance, fingers tracing the golden orb in your pocket. "This is going to be fun."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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