The next two days were peaceful—
I guess.
Killian hadn't been home, and I'd had the mansion all to myself—
well, me and the househelps.
But you get the point.
No surprise kisses.
No sneaking hugs.
No emotionally confusing "my queen" moments.
Just me, soft music, overpriced meals, and a walk-in closet I was slowly becoming best friends with.
It was... peaceful.
But peace in this house felt like the quiet before a very expensive, emotionally chaotic storm.
Ring ring.
The sound cut through the air, dragging me out of my lazy thoughts.
My eyes drifted to the phone sitting beside me on the couch.
I stared at the screen.
Just one word glowing back at me.
Selena.
My heart dropped.
Of course it was her.
The only person who could ruin my temporary peace with just one call.
"Where the fuck are you?"
I snapped, not even giving her a chance to speak.
Silence.
For a second, I thought the call had disconnected.
Then.....
"Nice to hear your voice too, Serena," Selena replied, her voice calm. Too calm. Like she wasn't the reason I was impersonating someone's wife and losing my grip on reality.
"Don't play with me," I hissed.
"I've been faking your life for days. Kissing your husband, sleeping in your bed, wearing your stupid heels. So again—where the hell are you?"
"I'll be back soon," she said vaguely.
I froze.
That was it? No explanation? No apology? No update on what the hell is going on?
"Back soon?" I repeated, my voice rising.
"What does that even mean, Selena? A day? A week? When Killian finds out he's been sleeping next to the wrong twin, what am I supposed to tell him? That you're 'coming soon' like a damn movie trailer?!"
She sighed on the other end. "Serena, please. Just a little more time. I can't explain everything right now."
"You better," I snapped. "Because I'm about one unwanted kiss away from setting this mansion on fire."
"You have a husband here," I said, my voice softer now, but still shaking with frustration.
"One who—even though he pisses me off—actually loves his wife."
"I'm your sister, Serena. You have to help me," she replied.
Ugh. That voice.
That manipulative voice again.
The one that used to get us out of trouble with Mom and now had me impersonating her in a billionaire's house.
Yes. She's my sister.
But even that has limits.
"Well, I won't be your sister anymore if I end up dead when he finds out," I snapped.
"I'm not laying down my life because you needed a break."
Silence.
Then:
"Okay... I'm sorry, Serena. It's just..."
Her voice cracked. And then she trailed off.
"I—I'm pregnant," she finally dropped the bomb.
I froze.
Everything in me stopped.
"Oh my God… that's… that's such good news," I said, blinking, genuinely surprised.
A soft smile tugged at my lips. "Wow. I mean, congratulations, I guess."
But the confusion was already creeping in.
Pregnancy is a blessing, not an excuse to disappear off the grid and toss your sister into your marital chaos.
"So…" I continued slowly, trying to piece it together.
"Why aren't you celebrating with your husband?"
"It's not his," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
My heart skipped like it needed a reboot.
"What?"
I shot up from the couch like it had burned me.
"You heard me," she said quietly, as if saying it louder would somehow make it worse.
And she was right. It would.
"You're pregnant... and it's not Killian's?" I repeated, needing confirmation because clearly, the universe had short-circuited.
"Yes."
"Oh my—Selena!"
I paced the room, gripping my forehead like I was trying to physically hold the stress in.
"Then whose is it?"
I snapped, losing every shred of patience I had left.
There was a pause. A beat too long.
"You… you don't know him," she said.
I let out a laugh. A dry, hollow, I'm-losing-my-mind kind of laugh.
"Seriously? That's your answer?" I spat.
"You don't know him? Are you—Selena, what kind of soap opera are you living in?!"
I started pacing, eyes wild.
"Who is he? Where did you meet him? How the hell did this even happen?"
The words tumbled out like they were trying to catch the truth before it could disappear again.
"I… it just happened, okay?" she said, voice small.
"I didn't mean for it to."
"What are we supposed to do when you come back home with a bump," I hissed, "and I'm still here with a flat stomach and zero signs of a growing child?"
I paced the floor like it held the answers.
"Am I supposed to fake a pregnancy too now? Stuff pillows under my shirt? Swallow balloons? What's the plan, Selena?"
My voice cracked—anger and disbelief tangled up in my throat.
She didn't answer right away. Of course not.
"You didn't think that far, did you?" I scoffed. "You just ran. Left me in your damn mansion with your damn husband and your damn mess."
"I'm sorry, Serena. I didn't mean for any of this to fall on you. I just… I panicked," she said, her voice trembling.
"Maybe you can…"
She hesitated.
"Get pregnant."
Silence.
I blinked.
Hard.
Once.
Twice.
I stared at the phone like it personally insulted me.
"Excuse me?"
My voice was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that comes before a full-on eruption.
"You think the solution to your mess—your pregnancy—is for me to sleep with your husband and get pregnant too?!"
I nearly screamed.
"Serena, I didn't mean—"
"No. Say it with your chest, Selena!"
I was pacing again, heart pounding, fury climbing my throat like flames.
"Do you hear yourself? Do you even understand the level of crazy you just suggested?"
I paused. "So what, now I carry his child to match your mystery man's, and we just—what? Swap back like nothing happened?"
"Yes!" she shouted, voice cracking.
"I will kill myself. I want to die."
My heart lurched.
All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my chest, and I collapsed onto the couch like the words had physically hit me.
"What?" I whispered, breath catching in my throat.
"Selena… my love…"
Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them.
Her breathing was heavy on the other end. Then came the sobbing. Raw. Ugly. Real.
"I didn't mean for this to happen," she choked out.
"I didn't want any of this. I'm just so tired, Serena. I don't know what to do anymore."
And just like that… the anger faded.
Because beneath all the secrets, all the lies—
She was still my sister.
"Okay…" I said softly, wiping a tear from my cheek.
"But do you realize what you're asking me to do?"
Silence.
"I'd have to sleep with your husband, Selena. Like actually cross that line. That's not some small thing I can just undo later."
More silence.
"And what about the baby? Have you even thought of that? Abortion—have you even considered it, or is pretending none of this is happening easier for you?"
"I can't…" she whispered.
"Can't what?" I pressed, voice shaking.
"Can't go through with the pregnancy? Can't go back to your husband? Can't take responsibility?"
"I don't know, Serena. I'm scared. I'm so scared," she cried.
"I don't want an abortion," she whispered, barely audible.
"I love my baby already… and… it was just—" she swallowed hard, "a one-night stand. I drank too much."
Her voice was soaked in defeat.
Like she'd finally stopped running from her own truth.
I closed my eyes.
Sat there in silence.
Letting it sink in.
She was really pregnant.
She really didn't want to get rid of it.
And this whole thing—the husband, the mansion, the lie—was never meant to go this far.
"I don't even remember his name," she added.
And somehow… that made it worse.
I pressed a hand to my forehead.
I didn't know whether to scream or cry or book a plane ticket.
"You love the baby," I repeated quietly, more to myself than her.
"Okay… then we have a real problem."
"Okay…" I breathed out, my voice flat.
"Let's do this."
Selena let out a shaky sigh of relief on the other end of the call.
But I wasn't done.
"But…" I said, staring blankly at the wall across from me.
"If you're not getting an abortion—I will."
She went quiet. Too quiet.
"Serena—"
"No," I cut in. "You get to keep your baby. You get to love it. Start over. But me? I'm going to kill whatever parts of myself are left after this."
I stood up, shoulders heavy.
"Because pretending to be you is one thing, Selena. But pretending to be in love with your husband? Pretending this is my life?" I paused. "That's me… ending mine."
"Thank you," she whispered, voice cracking through the line.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for disappointing you."
I closed my eyes. Let the silence sit between us like a wound we couldn't stitch closed.
A part of me wanted to scream. The other part just… hurt.
"I know you are," I whispered back.
She sobbed quietly on the other end.
"And I'll probably never forgive you for putting me in this mess," I added honestly. "But I'm not going to lose you over it."
Because that's what love looks like, right?
Not the easy parts. The hard, impossible ones.
"I've got you," I said finally, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"But don't make me regret this."
"I won't," she promised. Weak. But it was something.
I ended the call.
Then I stared at the phone.
At the silence.
At my reflection in the black screen that no longer looked like me.