It's comforting. At least my childhood friend Kim doesn’t dislike me the way Hector does.

The year I woke up, Kim had left for the United States to pursue graduate school. We hadn’t seen each other since, and we only exchanged occasional messages on Instagram.

I missed her terribly.

The truth is, I’m afraid of loneliness. I crave love and connection, but it feels as though I was born unlovable. My parents always favored my lively sister, while my friends would quickly grow tired of my reserved nature and move on to more exciting companions.

The fake Edna, on the other hand, was the opposite. She was magnetic, effortlessly charming everyone around her. In just two years, she built a large circle of friends.

When I first returned, people reached out, eager to meet. I accepted every invitation, brimming with hope. But I soon realized I couldn’t keep up with their enthusiasm. I didn’t share their passion for classical music history, idols, or celebrities. And unlike the fake Edna, I couldn’t command attention in a crowd or charm them with ease.

Once, her friends even pushed me onto a stage during a gathering. “Eds, sing us a song!” they cheered.

I froze under the spotlight, my face burning red like a steamed crab. “I can’t,” I stammered. “I sing out of tune.”

Their playful jeering only grew louder. I had no choice but to stumble through a rendition of “July,” forgetting half the lyrics and singing off-key.

After that, no one invited me out again. Their parting comment lingered in my mind: “Eds, you’re a little different from before.”

Hurt but resigned, I returned to my solitary routine: shuttling between home, the lab, and the piano room. It didn’t matter. I was used to it. Or so I told myself.

On my birthday, I took the day off, applied light makeup, and went to the airport to pick up Kim.

She spotted me immediately, running over with excitement—but the shock in her eyes was impossible to miss.

“Why are you dressed so plainly?” she blurted. “Where’s your sexy, hot camisole? And your big waves? You’ve straightened your hair?” Her voice softened as she added, “Eds, why do I feel like you’re... a little different from before?”

That word again. Different. It pierced me like a needle, sharp and unrelenting.

Forcing a smile, I straightened up and replied, “You’re different too. Prettier.”

Kim, with her cascading waves, fitted camisole dress, and edgy motorcycle jacket, radiated confidence and allure—completely transformed from the sweet girl-next-door she’d been two years ago.

“You forgot? We got our hair permed together!” she teased, tossing her curls dramatically before slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, I’m treating you to dinner! Oh, and I brought you a gift!”

Yes, we had gotten our hair permed together once.

Back then, if Edna had dragged Kim to the salon, she would’ve emerged smiling, praising “me” for my impeccable taste.

During dinner, Kim did most of the talking while I listened. She noticed something was off and asked a few probing questions, but when I avoided answering, she eventually let it go.

Before we parted, she handed me an out-of-print piano CD.

The fake Edna had mentioned it to Kim just once, and yet Kim remembered.

I couldn’t help but recall a similar moment from years ago when I told Kim I wanted the limited edition Lego “Snow Mountain Cabin” set for my birthday. She’d simply laughed and said, “What’s fun about Lego?” before gifting me an expensive set of cosmetics instead.

Her smug expression as she handed over the gift left me feeling hollow.

But I had learned to let it go.

Don’t fight it anymore, Edna, I told myself. Accept your fate.

No one’s happy to have you back—not Kim, not my mom, and certainly not Hector. They all prefer the lively, charismatic Edna.

No, in their minds, I’m the fake Edna.

It was past ten when I returned home. The house was dark, save for the faint glow of a single candle on a cake resting on the coffee table.

Hector was there, sitting in the shadows. The flickering light danced across his face, softening his features in a way that made him look almost tender.

“Eds, is that you?”

He must’ve heard me approaching. Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting through the dim light. When he realized it was me, his expression shifted. He stood abruptly, crossing the room in a few quick strides before pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I knew it was you. You’re finally back.”

The strong scent of alcohol mixed with the crisp night air hit me as Hector pulled me into a tight embrace. His arms were firm, his voice soft, almost pleading.

I froze. I didn’t dare hug him back. This moment, this tenderness, didn’t feel like it belonged to me—it felt stolen.

“Hector, you’re drunk. I don’t think—”

Before I could finish, his lips pressed against mine, silencing my words.

My eyes widened in shock as his warm, insistent touch sent waves rippling through me—waves I knew I shouldn’t feel. I parted my lips slightly, and he seized the moment, his kiss growing desperate and unyielding, as though he wanted to consume me completely.

He didn’t release me until I was breathless.

“Don’t leave, okay? I miss you so much.”

His kisses trailed from my forehead to the tip of my nose, then to my cheeks and neck. His touch was tender and achingly gentle—an intimacy I’d never experienced before.

I was greedy for it, for him.

I found myself wondering: What would she do in this situation? What would fake Edna do?

So, I mimicked her. With a playful shove, I pushed him away, feigning a pout. “Next time you drink this much, I’ll ignore you!”

I imitated her so perfectly.

Hector’s face lit up, his grin widening, his voice carrying a newfound excitement. “Eds, it’s really you. You’re finally back!”

After helping him to bed, I returned to the living room and sat alone, staring at the cake he had prepared—not for me, but for her.

On the cake, written in crooked, childlike handwriting, were the words: “Eds, happy birthday.” It was clear Hector had written it himself.

The candles had already burned out, leaving only a faint trace of wax.

The room was dark, the night oppressive. I stayed there, unmoving, as the hours passed.

When Hector woke up the next morning and saw me sitting pale and weary, he looked startled. For once, there was genuine concern in his voice. “Did you stay up all night?”

I nodded but said nothing.

He sat beside me, his expression hesitant, as though searching for the right words. When he finally spoke, his tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

“Did I… mistake you for her last night?”

I cut him off, lifting my eyes to meet his gaze. Each word I spoke felt like a knife slicing through me. “Hector, do all of you just want her to come back?”

Silence enveloped us, thick and suffocating. Neither of us spoke, and the stillness only magnified the weight of our emotions.

After what felt like an eternity, I broke the quiet. “I understand now.”

As a child, I had always given up what I loved to my sister.

When I met Hector, I learned to bend to his emotional needs, always putting him first.

Now, I’ve given myself to the fake Edna.

There’s no room for me in this world. Let me be the exchange. With me gone, there will be no regrets, no disappointments.

On the way to the hospital, my mind was eerily calm.

“This procedure is extremely rare. Are you sure you want to go through with it?” The doctor’s voice carried a note of disbelief as he studied me.

He hesitated before continuing, his tone softening with concern. “Maybe you should go home and think about it. Talk it over with your family…”

“Just book the appointment,” I interrupted, my voice firm. “The sooner, the better.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest again.

“Doctor,” I said quietly, “I have no family.”

That silenced him. He stared at me for a long moment before lowering his head to sign the consent form.

I hadn’t lied. I truly had no family.

The household registration book even said so.

My parents had divorced years ago. My mother had taken my sister and left, while my father remarried and built a new family. I hadn’t spoken to any of them in years.

For the longest time, I clung to Hector—not just as my lover, but as my only family.

But now, he didn’t want me, and I no longer wanted him.

As I walked out of the hospital, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I had saved a week ago.

“Professor James? This is Edna.”

My voice didn’t waver as I spoke.

“I’ve made up my mind. I’ll join the secret research.”