Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
Midnight. My phone buzzed with a text and an attached photo from my best friend.
"Chloe, didn't know you and your man were into this kind of thing. A brand-new themed love hotel downtown? Wild."
I stared at the screen, my entire body freezing up.
In the photo, a girl was clinging tightly to Ethan's arm.
They were walking out of the hotel lobby, wrapped up in each other, completely lost in their own world.
Except that night, I was stuck at the office working overtime.
At one in the morning, I was still in the conference room revising project proposals.
My stomach sank into a cold, dark pit.
Because I knew exactly who that girl was.
My identical twin sister, Clara.
I just never imagined that Clara—the woman who always prided herself on being a fiercely independent career woman, someone who mocked dating and bragged about staying single—would do this.
She was wearing my favorite emerald-green slip dress.
Around her neck was the custom pendant Ethan had given me.
She disguised herself as me.
And she threw herself into my boyfriend's arms.
By the time I saw the photo, it was long past midnight.
I walked into our bedroom and stared down at Ethan, who was fast asleep.
A part of me wanted to shake him awake and scream at him.
Clara and I shared virtually the same face, but I had a tiny, distinct birthmark right above my collarbone.
Anyone paying the slightest bit of attention would notice it instantly.
Did Ethan truly not realize the woman he took to a love motel was Clara?
Or was he just playing dumb?
If I confronted him right now, he would definitely deny everything.
Tossed around by nausea and betrayal, I couldn't sleep. I slipped quietly into the study.
I opened my laptop and started digging through Clara's and Ethan's social media and emails, hunting for any trace of their secret affair.
Sure enough, on an anonymous burner account Clara ran, I found a post:
[I never imagined my twin sister’s boyfriend would turn out to be my high school first love.]
[Seeing him again after all these years, my heart still raced like crazy.]
[I pretended to be my sister and went to a hotel with him. Even in bed, the spark between us was just as intense as before.]
[I want to ask him: is he only dating my sister because he could never get over me?]
Attached was a photo of their fingers tightly intertwined on white hotel sheets.
My chest constricted with a sharp, agonizing ache.
Clara and I had gone to different colleges in different states, rarely seeing each other since.
I had never once known that Ethan was her high school sweetheart.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
I finally understood why Ethan had pursued me so relentlessly the moment he first laid eyes on me.
All this time, I had just been living in my sister's shadow.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I scrolled to her next update.
[On our second date, he confessed that he had seen right through my disguise from the start.]
[He told me he never really forgot me. But he insisted he loves my sister now.]
[Then why didn't he push me away? Why did he keep seeing me? Why did he keep sleeping with me?]
[I thought I had moved on. But hearing him say he loves my sister made me desperate to take him back.]
[Please, tell me: should I steal him back?]
I gripped my phone until my knuckles turned white, my whole body trembling violently.
Ethan had always seemed so devoted to me.
Whenever I had bad cramps, he would brew warm milk and sit by my side, gently rubbing my stomach.
On my birthday, he gave me a custom-made necklace engraved with my name.
Yet beneath all that tenderness, a piece of his heart had always belonged to someone else.No wonder Clara had suddenly been reaching out to me so often lately.
She had bought me thoughtful gifts, probably out of suffocating guilt.
Two days ago, she even asked me which lipstick shade suited her best.
I remembered teasing her: "Clara, are you seeing someone?"
Her face had instantly turned icy:
"As if. I'm not boy-crazy like you. I only care about my career."
I kept scrolling down her burner feed.
[I've been secretly hooking up with my sister's boyfriend for three months now.]
[I keep pretending to be her, and he never stops me.]
[We meet up more and more often.]
[I'm falling for him all over again. I don't want to share him with my sister anymore.]
[Should I come clean to her?]
Reading those words, I bit down hard on my lip to stifle a scream.
Throughout our three-year relationship, Ethan had always come straight home from work. But recently, he claimed his firm was swamped and started pulling late hours at the office.
It wasn't overtime. He was sneaking around with Clara.
He had been meticulous. I never caught a whiff of foreign perfume on his shirts, never found a stray strand of hair.
They had been playing me for months, and I had stayed completely in the dark.
My eyes fell on her latest post:
[My sister had to work late tonight. He took me to see my favorite hockey team play.]
[After the game, he turned to me and whispered, 'You haven't changed at all.']
[Tonight was our first time spending an entire night together.]
[He didn't go home. He didn't go back to my sister.]
[He was rough tonight, almost like he was punishing me... but I still cried.]
[The guilt eating away at me is getting unbearable. But I can't stop wanting him. I can't lie to myself anymore. What am I supposed to do?]
Tears finally spilled over my cheeks.
I walked back into the bedroom and stood over the bed, glaring at Ethan as he slept peacefully.
A wave of pure revulsion washed over me.
If anyone claimed he couldn't tell two identical twins apart in bed, they were lying.
I grabbed his collar and yanked him upright off the mattress.Ethan jolted awake, dazed for a second before his hands instinctively reached for me. "Chloe? What's wrong?"
His voice was thick with grogginess and genuine panic.
I forced a faint smile, keeping my tone deceptively gentle. "Did you have a nightmare, Ethan?"
He rubbed his face, looking bewildered. "I guess so... That dream felt terrifyingly real."
I took a slow, deep breath, walked over to change my clothes, and said coldly:
"I have an early meeting today. I'm leaving."
Before he could ask another question, I grabbed my bag and walked out.
I couldn't stand being in that apartment for another second.
And I couldn't bear to look at his face for another moment.
...
The second I arrived at the office, my phone vibrated.
It was a text from Clara, her tone softer and more tentative than usual:
[Working late tonight?]
[Just asking. If you're free, come over for dinner? I made beef stew for you.]
Seeing all those incriminating posts hadn't broken me.
Yet reading this simple text from Clara made my eyes sting, and the tears streamed down uncontrollably.
Clara was born one minute before me.
Because we were twin baby girls, our biological parents abandoned us at birth.
An elderly woman who survived by collecting recyclables took us in and raised us.
When Grandma passed away, Clara took over the role of parent.
I still vividly remembered the first pot of soup she ever cooked for me.
She had scavenged wild greens and potatoes from empty lots, throwing them into a dented pot.
She had tasted every single leaf herself beforehand.
If it didn't upset her stomach, she cooked it for me.
If it gave her diarrhea, she ate it alone.
It tasted awful.
Yet in my childhood memories, it was the fullest my belly had ever been.
Back then, she wasn't even seven years old.
She had spent her whole life protecting me, always masking her affection behind a tough, irritable shell:
"This coat is hideous. I'd rather freeze than wear it, so you take it."
"This meat tastes disgusting. Only a dog would eat it. Finish every bite."
"Stop offering it to me! I hate it, and if you hand it back, I'm throwing it in the trash!"
Yet late at night, whenever she lit a candle before Grandma's framed picture, she would whisper softly: "Don't worry, Grandma. I'm the big sister. Big sisters are born to protect their little sisters."
From that day on, no matter how bland or bitter her cooking was, I always finished every drop.
Now, she was asking to make dinner only to find out if I was working late... so she could take my place on another date with my boyfriend.
I stared at her text for a long time, my tears splashing against the glass screen and blurring the light.
Finally, my trembling fingers typed out:
[I'm coming over.]
I paused, then added:
[Clara, I miss your cooking.]
The moment I hit send, her final burner post echoed in my mind.
She had written that her guilt was tearing her apart.
Yet she couldn't stop herself.
And neither could I.
I couldn't stop myself from wanting to hate her.
And even worse... I couldn't stop myself from wanting to forgive her.
My phone buzzed again.
Clara replied instantly:
[Great. I'll simmer it longer so the meat falls apart. Your teeth were always sensitive when you were little. You like it soft.]
I crouched on the bathroom floor, buried my face in my knees, and wept until I couldn't breathe.On my commute home that evening, I opened her burner post once more.
A top comment had gained massive traction:
[So, do you regret it?]
[Hurts, doesn't it? Being trapped in your sister's shadow, watching him love her while you're just a ghost?]
The IP address was local.
No profile picture, clearly a newly registered account.
And the header image on the profile was a landscape photo I had taken during a vacation last summer.
Clara had replied directly to the comment:
[I regret it... I regret it so much I feel like I'm losing my mind. If I could turn back time, I would never let him go. But there are no second chances.]
Strangers in the comments were tearing into her:
[You're homewrecking your own sister's relationship and crying about regret? Give me a break.]
[OP, if you feel an ounce of real guilt, confess to your sister already.]
A few defenders pushed back:
[Homewrecker? They dated first! OP had him before the sister did. The sister is the replacement here.]
[Found another side chick defending her own kind.]
Clara hadn't replied again, leaving thousands of comments brawling in the thread.
I locked my phone and stared out the cab window.
Did I regret it?
Yes.
To me, those two comments were nothing less than a mutual, public confession of their enduring love.
I thought reading it would make me collapse, that the pain would tear my chest wide open.
Instead, an eerie calm settled over me.
I felt hollow.
Completely, clinically numb.
I let out a slow breath, unlocked my phone, and sent an email to Professor Davis:
[Professor, I accept your offer. I'd like to apply for the Ph.D. program abroad immediately.]
Within seconds, Professor Davis called me:
"Chloe, are you serious? You don't need to stay behind for Clara anymore?"
"No," I answered without hesitation. "She has someone to look after her now."
"Wonderful! That's the right choice. A brilliant mind like yours shouldn't be held back!"
"The sooner we can process the paperwork, the better, Professor. I'm afraid I might get weak-hearted and change my mind."
"Understood! I'll file the emergency sponsorship right now!"
When I hung up, the cab had pulled up outside Clara's apartment building.
I stood under the glow of the streetlamp for a long time.
Then I typed one final text to Ethan:
[We're done. Don't look for me.]
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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