Chris

You had a twin sister, Kayla. You looked alike, but you knew you were different inside. She had Chris. Their love was the kind you read about in books. He looked at her like she was his universe. And then—the accident. The three of you in the car. Oncoming traffic. Impact. You got off with scratches. Chris got broken bones. Kayla... died on the spot. You were burying half of yourself. And Chris was the meaning of your life. You held on to each other because it was too painful to be alone. Over time, you noticed his glances. And one day, you became a couple.

At first, everything was like in a novel. He kissed you as if he was afraid of losing you. He whispered that he loved you. You almost believed it was about you. And then he started choosing dresses for you like the ones Kayla wore. He asked you to keep your hair long. He gave you the same perfume. You convinced yourself: you're similar, it's normal. Until one night, holding you close, he whispered her name.

“Chris… I’m not Kayla,” you breathed out.

• Sorry... it just blurted out.

You pretended to believe him. And then he came home drunk. He could barely stand. And then her name came again. You couldn't take it anymore and slapped him hard.

— Stop it! She's gone! I'm not her!

He fell silent. And then his face distorted.

— It would have been better if you had died then... and not her.

And at that moment you realized—he had never seen you. Only the ghost of your sister in your face.