Maya had always prided herself on juggling.
Work, bills, school runs, doctor appointments — balancing exhaustion and survival like a circus act. She told herself she could always keep the balls in the air.
But now there were too many.Two worlds, two lives, two selves.
And one of them was starting to slip.
It began with something small. Aarav's homework folder, left unsigned for the second week in a row. His teacher's concerned note crumpled at the bottom of her purse.
Then a missed lunchbox. Then a forgotten PTA meeting.
Each time, Maya told herself she was just tired. Distracted. Human.
But in the quiet corners of her mind, she knew. It wasn't just forgetting.
It was replacing.
Every night she carried more from the other world: battle strategies lodged in her head where spelling tests should be, the names of generals displacing the names of Aarav's friends.
And the crown — oh, the crown — its weight lingered even when it wasn't there, an invisible hand pressing her spine straight, commanding her voice sharper.
It was only a matter of time before the fracture widened.
The breaking point came on a Tuesday.
Aarav had begged her for weeks to come to his soccer game. She promised she would. Swore it, even.
The diner shift was long, but she left early, rushing across town. She could see him already, tiny figure in the blue jersey, scanning the bleachers for her.
Her heart swelled. She waved. He grinned, the kind of grin that forgave everything.
Then it happened.
The swap.
No warning, no mercy.
One heartbeat she was lifting her hand to wave back. The next, she stood in a throne room, courtiers kneeling, torches blazing.
"Your Majesty," they chorused, "the envoys await."
Her breath caught.No. Not now. Please, not now.
But the world would not bend for her.
She endured the council — an entire night of diplomacy, of speeches and decrees, of words that reshaped kingdoms. She was flawless. She was admired. She was obeyed.
And all the while, the ghost of Aarav's grin gnawed at her.
When the shift released her, she was back on the bleachers. The field was empty. The sky dim with dusk.
Aarav stood at the edge of the grass, clutching his soccer ball. His face was pale, blotched with red from crying.
"You weren't there," he said.
Maya's mouth opened, but no words came.
"I saw you," Aarav whispered. "You waved. And then you were gone. Just—gone." His lip trembled. "Like you didn't care."
The ball slipped from his hands and rolled away, unnoticed.
That night, Maya sat on the couch while Aarav shut himself in his room. She heard the muffled sobs through the door, each one a knife.
She pressed her palms to her temples.
The crown was still there, phantom weight heavy on her skull.
Her son's sobs.Her subjects' cheers.
Her heart felt split down the middle, jagged and raw.
For the first time, she wasn't sure she could put the pieces back together.
Maya thought she had been juggling.But maybe she had been dropping everything — and only now was she beginning to see the wreckage.