I'd never thought much of it at the time.
I'd asked a doctor once, and he said taste changes were perfectly normal.
But now I kept thinking about that note someone had pressed into my hands outside the monastery.
A chill ran straight through me.
Could it be true? Could my daughter really have been switched?
How? How was that even possible?
Ten full years had passed since the exam. Who could have swapped my own child right under my nose and left me none the wiser?
She must have noticed me staring, because she came over, worry creasing her face.
"Mom, you look awful. Did the trip to Saint Mercy Monastery wear you out?"
I looked at her face. The longer I looked, the less I recognized.
Something in her bearing, deep down, was nothing like the child I'd raised for eighteen years.
"I'm fine. Got a bit of wind on the road."
I waved it off, slipping the note into the deepest fold of my pocket.
She pulled me to the sofa and cracked the durian open. The sharp, pungent smell flooded the room instantly.
She held out a piece, eyes eager.
"Mom, here—try some. It's really sweet."
I stared at the pale flesh in her hand, and my stomach turned.
My daughter used to retch at the smell alone.