Sitting in the closet, clutching the pregnancy test in trembling hands, I stared at the two undeniable lines.

“So, I’m really pregnant?” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes.

I had been married to Lewis Clifton, my childhood friend, for two years, and the thought of finally giving birth to an heir filled me with joy. I could not wait to share the news with him.

But as I approached the door to his study, his voice stopped me in my tracks.

“You’re really coming back tomorrow, Ruby?” he asked, his tone brimming with excitement while clutching his phone.

Ruby Gilmore. My twin sister. She had been living in San Jose all this time, but then, she was returning to Switzerland. Her return seemed to light up Lewis in a way I never could.

Then came the words that shattered my heart.

“Don’t worry about Rose,” he mocked cruelly. “She’s like a dog, obedient to her owner. After all, I only married her to replace you temporarily.”

His words pierced me, cutting deeper than I thought possible. My fingers tightened around the test pack before I threw it into the trash, my excitement extinguished.

For two years, I had hoped he would love me, but it was clear his heart had never been mine. It had always belonged to Ruby. And with her beauty and charm, she would reclaim it effortlessly.

What I did not expect was the cold, calculated cruelty Ruby delivered when she just arrived at our house, her voice a venomous whisper.

“If I were you, I’d leave this world, Rose,” she threatened, her tone dripping with malice.

Fine. If that was what they both wanted, I would grant their wish. I would disappear from their lives entirely.

Standing on the edge of the bridge, the wind whipping against my face, I cursed them one last time, my voice filled with bitterness and despair.

“I wish them hell!”

***

A month had passed since the grand celebration of the 60th anniversary of Clifton Group's Diamond Jubilee.

The night was marked by elegance, laughter, and the usual dazzling charm of Lewis Clifton. But for me, that night held an entirely different significance—a moment I could never forget.

Lewis had been too drunk for the first time in our two years of marriage, and for once, he looked at me differently. His usual cold demeanor gave way to an almost primal intensity.

“Just obey me, Rose,” he demanded, pinning my hands above my head with unexpected force.

My heart pounded in confusion and anticipation. For two years, we had slept in separate rooms, our marriage devoid of affection, let alone intimacy.

But that night, Lewis was all passion and fervor, his words laced with a warmth I had not known he possessed.

I was drunk too, lost in the haze of the moment. I did not resist. Instead, I surrendered to him, yearning for even a fragment of love.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

And for the first time, blood flowed from my core.

The next day, Lewis acted as if nothing had happened. His coldness returned, and our lives resumed their usual routine of distant breakfasts and silent evenings.

Yet, I did not regret it. He was my husband, after all.

For weeks, the memory of that night lingered in the back of my mind, overshadowed by his indifference. But then I noticed something—my monthly period had not arrived.

“Could it be?” I whispered to myself, both anxious and hopeful.

My thoughts raced as I bought a pregnancy test from the pharmacy. That night, I sat in the closet, clutching the test pack in trembling hands.

“What should I do if it’s positive?” I muttered, my heart pounding.

Our marriage had been a mere arrangement between families, a partnership devoid of love.

Lewis had always treated me as a convenient stand-in for someone else. Despite knowing that, a tiny flicker of hope ignited within me.

“If I’m pregnant with his heir, maybe things will change,” I thought, my mind grasping at straws.

Minutes later, the result was clear—two lines.

“So, I’m really pregnant?” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

Overcome with emotion, I abandoned all hesitation and rushed to Lewis’s study. For the first time in years, I dared to hope that he might show even a fraction of love for our child.

But as I reached the door, his voice stopped me.

“Ruby, are you really coming home tomorrow?”

Ruby. My twin sister. The one he had loved long before our marriage.

“Of course, I will make sure to pick you up at the airport,” he said, his tone soft and warm—so unlike the way he ever spoke to me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to finish my meeting on time, okay?”

A lump formed in my throat as he continued, “Also, I’ll ask Rose to cook dinner for you tomorrow. Just text me the dishes you want. I’ll make sure she prepares them all.”

My grip tightened on the doorknob, but I could not push it open.

“Don’t worry about your sister,” he added, his tone shifting to mockery. “She obeys me like a dog. If I tell her to leave, she’ll leave.”

Tears stung my eyes as I listened, frozen in place.

“When you come here tomorrow, I’ll send her away. Let’s celebrate our love properly this time,” he said with a laugh. “You know I only love you, Ruby.”

My heart shattered as I heard Lewis say before hanging up the phone, “I can’t wait to see you, my love.”

The weight of his words crushed the fragile hope I had carried moments earlier.

My husband—the father of my child—had never loved me. I was merely a placeholder for the woman he truly desired.

However, I still clung to a fragile thread of hope, a small flicker in my heart that perhaps Lewis would change once he knew about my pregnancy.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I approached the door to his study, my hand trembling as it hovered near the wood, ready to knock.

Before I could, the door swung open suddenly, and I stumbled forward, caught off guard.

Out of reflex, Lewis reached out and caught me in his arms, steadying me.

For a fleeting moment, I felt the warmth of his embrace—a warmth I had not known in the two years of our marriage.

It was our first hug, however accidental, and for a heartbeat, I allowed myself to feel it, to pretend it meant something.

But the moment dissolved as quickly as it had come.

“What are you doing outside my study room, Rose?” Lewis snapped, his voice sharp with irritation as he pushed me away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just….” My words trailed off as I hesitated, clutching the test pack in my hand.

The timing did not feel right—not with his cold demeanor and frustration written all over his face.

My eyes wandered to the digital calendar on his desk, and I noticed tomorrow’s date: the 1st.

It clicked in my mind—our usual appointment with the gynecologist, a routine check requested by the Clifton family to monitor our fertility.

‘What a perfect moment,’ I thought.

“I just wanted to ask what time we’re going to the gynecologist tomorrow,” I said quickly, slipping the test pack behind my back. “So, I can get ready.”

Lewis ran a hand through his hair, visibly annoyed. “Oh, that annoying monthly check-up. Let’s see if I have time,” he muttered, clearly uninterested.

“I’ll ask my assistant to call you tomorrow and let you know when I’m free.”

He did not even look at me as he added dismissively, “Now, get out of my sight. I’m going to my room to sleep.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodded, and turned to leave.

His words stung, but I forced myself to push the pain aside. The next day would be different. I just knew it.

As I entered my room, I gently placed a hand on my stomach, the tiny spark of life within me giving me a sense of strength and hope.

“Let’s surprise Daddy tomorrow, baby,” I whispered, a small smile forming on my lips. “Now, let’s sleep.”

It was barely dawn when I woke, a faint hope lingering in my heart that everything I heard outside the study last night was just a nightmare.

So, I instinctively rubbed my stomach. “We will check your condition to a doctor today, please don’t be afraid, it’s not scary at all.

“So, let’s get ready today.”

Though I was still early in my pregnancy and there was no visible sign, I felt the delicate life growing within me—a tiny soul that was now my reason to keep going.

By seven, I made my way downstairs to the dining room for breakfast. Lewis was already there, seated at the table with his phone in hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

I did not need to ask who he was texting—his glowing expression said it all.

It was not a nightmare. Everything from last night was real.

The warmth and love he reserved for my twin sister Ruby were genuine. Also, the disdain he had for me was not a figment of my imagination.

I quietly moved to my seat, not saying a word, but the sound of my chair scraping the floor startled Lewis.

“Why are you so late?” he asked coldly, barely sparing me a glance as he typed on his phone.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and replied curtly, “I am sorry.”

At the start of our marriage, Lewis and I had never shared meals. He would either avoid me or stay holed up in his study.

But ever since his mother began dropping by unannounced in the mornings, he insisted we have breakfast together, if only for appearances.

The maid soon began serving breakfast, and silence enveloped the room once more.

Lewis focused on his phone, barely touching his food, while I stared at my plate, my appetite nonexistent.

I tried to eat anyway, but the moment the first bite passed my lips, a wave of nausea hit me.

I clamped my hand over my mouth and bolted toward the kitchen, barely making it to the nearby restroom before emptying the contents of my stomach.

It felt endless, my body heaving until there was nothing left to give.

Weak and drained, I splashed cold water on my face before returning to the dining room.

Lewis was gone.

The maid approached with a sad look on her face, carrying away his untouched plate. “Mr. Clifton said he had no appetite after hearing you vomit, so he left immediately.”

I sighed, sinking back into my chair. My heart clenched at the sheer indifference of his actions, but I was too exhausted to let it weigh me down.

The maid hesitated. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

I forced a small smile, shaking my head lightly. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry to worry you.”

She nodded reluctantly before leaving me alone at the table. I picked up my fork, determined to eat again for the sake of my baby.

In my heart, I whispered softly, “Don’t worry, baby. If you don’t like it, you can take it out. Your dad isn’t being mean; he’s probably just busy with something important.”

As I forced down a few more bites, I was relieved when my stomach finally settled. A bittersweet smile formed on my lips.

“Thank you for accepting it, little one,” I murmured. “You’re already stronger than me.”

After I finished breakfast, I was still feeling suffocated with everything that had happened in the morning.

So, I decided to retreat to the garden house—a sanctuary I had lovingly nurtured within the villa grounds.

It was the one place where I could breathe, a place where the chaos of my life seemed to fade away.

The garden was my escape. Among the neatly arranged rows of roses, jasmines, daisies, and other flowers, I found solace.

Each bloom carried a piece of my heart, cared for with the kind of love and tenderness I could not express elsewhere.

I had always wanted to take care of a cat or a dog, but Lewis was allergic to fur, so I poured my affection into the plants instead. They became my companions, my silent children.

By the afternoon, the maid arrived with tea and biscuits, her gentle smile breaking through the quiet.

“This garden is very beautiful, just like the one who takes care of it,” she said, her voice warm.

I offered a faint smile, cradling the tea in my hands. “Thank you.”

I glanced at the sky and realized it must be nearing noon, the time when Lewis usually took a break from his work at the office.

Hoping he had not forgotten, I turned to the maid and asked, “Did anyone call home, or did Lewis’ driver come to pick me up?”

The maid hesitated, her expression uncertain. “No, ma’am. Nothing happened before I came to the garden house to bring you tea.”

My heart sank a little, but I forced a small smile. “Oh, maybe Lewis is still busy. Could you pass me my mobile?”

The maid nodded and quickly fetched my phone from the table, handing it to me.

‘Let’s just ask the assistant to make sure,’ I thought, scrolling through my contacts to find Lewis’ assistant’s number.

When the call connected, I didn’t waste any time. “Sorry to bother you, but could I know what time Lewis will be free? We have a gynecologist appointment today.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by the assistant’s hesitant response. “I’m sorry, Madam, but Mr. Clifton has been free since earlier. He instructed me to clear his schedule because… he needed to pick someone up at the airport.”

My grip on the phone tightened, and my heart dropped. “What did you say?”

I immediately hung up the phone without letting the assistant explain further.

I did not need to hear another word, since I knew Lewis had chosen to pick up Ruby instead of accompanying me to the gynecologist.

It was not a nightmare. Ruby’s return was real, and with it, every ounce of hope I had held onto was slipping through my fingers.

I sighed deeply, my chest heavy with hurt, but it was not the first time I had been betrayed by the people around me.

Hiding my emotions, I turned to the maid and said coldly, “Prepare the car. I need to go to the hospital immediately.”

“Yes, madam,” she replied, scurrying off to fulfill my request.

I left the garden house and made my way to the front door, determined to go alone.

I did not care anymore about Lewis or what he was doing. I just needed to know that my baby was okay.

The drive to the hospital was agonizingly slow. The traffic was unusually congested, turning what should have been a thirty-minute trip into an hour-long ordeal.

As I sat in the backseat, gazing out the window, my heart clenched when I spotted someone familiar. On the second floor of a restaurant, clearly visible through the large glass windows, were Lewis and Ruby.

They sat close, their faces glowing with affection as they looked into each other’s eyes.

My stomach churned as I watched Ruby lean forward, feeding Lewis a bite of her food. He smiled, returning the gesture lovingly.

And then, as if to twist the knife deeper, they kissed. A soft, intimate kiss that they did not care to hide from anyone who could see them through the see-through window.

Tears blurred my vision, spilling freely down my cheeks as our car moved away from the street.

I clutched my stomach, whispering silently to my baby, “I’m so sorry you have to go through this with me.”

When we finally arrived at the hospital, my legs felt weak as I stepped out of the car. Determined to move forward, I walked to the front desk to register.

But before I could utter a word to the receptionist, a wave of nausea hit me hard.

I turned on my heel and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before I emptied my stomach.

My tears mixed with the sweat on my brow as I vomited again and again, as though my body was expelling not just the food I had eaten, but the bitterness and anger that had consumed me.

Clenching the sink tightly, I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror, my throat burning with bile and frustration.

It was all too much to bear since it seemed Ruby was reclaiming the life she had left behind. The life I had been forced to take on.

Piece by piece, she was taking everything from me, and I was powerless to stop her.

I did not know how long I stayed in the bathroom, venting my sadness and anger in solitude.

When I finally left, I felt too defeated to see the gynecologist. Instead, I walked straight out of the hospital and ordered the driver to take me home.

As we drove, I placed my hand on my stomach, a new resolve building within me.

I could not afford to be weak anymore. The baby growing inside me deserved better.

I needed to find the courage to tell Lewis about the pregnancy and demand my place as his wife.

When we arrived home, I stepped inside, ready to face Lewis. But what greeted me in the living room made my blood run cold.

Lounging on the sofa, her legs crossed as she sipped tea like she owned the place, was Ruby. Her polished appearance and smug demeanor contrasted sharply with the turmoil brewing in my chest.

She glanced at me lazily, her lips curling into a smirk.

“Hi, nerd sister,” she greeted, her tone dripping with mockery. She did not bother to stand, her confidence radiating like a shield of superiority.

Her presence hit me like a slap of cold water. After two years of trying to erase her from my mind, here she was—Ruby Gilmore.

The name we once shared. The face that mirrored mine.

I scanned the room, my heart clinging to a faint hope. Maybe Lewis had only brought her home so she could join me for the appointment. Maybe he was somewhere in the house, waiting to go to the hospital with me.

But Ruby’s piercing voice crushed that hope instantly.

“What are you looking for? Lewis?” she asked, her smirk growing wider. “I’m sad too because he just dropped me here and left. Apparently, he had some sudden meeting.”

Ruby took another sip of her tea and added nonchalantly, “But don’t worry. He promised to come back home on time with a present for me. I’m willing to wait for him, of course.”

Her words, casual yet pointed, felt like knives digging into my chest. My nails dug into my palms as I stood frozen in place, my mind swirling with anger, betrayal, and despair.

Ruby’s sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe, her lips curling into a smirk.

“Anyway,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery, “you really do look like me two years ago. Our parents have done quite the job turning you into my carbon copy.”

“But, unfortunately,” She chuckled. “Lewis still doesn’t love you, does he? Haha.”

Her words hit like daggers, but Ruby did not stop.

She stood up and tilted her head while walking toward me, “Tell me, is your hair dyed, or are you still wearing wigs like when we were teenagers?

“And those eyes…are you wearing contact lenses? Because there’s no way you could walk around without those thick glasses of yours, right?”

I said nothing, letting her words hang in the air. Yes, I was the nerd sister, the one who never measured up.

Even though we were twins, we could not have been more different.

Ruby was the perfect, beautiful one—the golden child. I was the opposite, the albino sister with severe nearsightedness since birth.

My natural hair was blonde, not the rich brunette shared by Ruby and our parents. My eyes were a pale, unremarkable grey, a stark contrast to Ruby’s vibrant hazel ones.

Everything about me was the antithesis of what our parents valued. So, since I was young, my parents had tried to turn me into Ruby’s shadow.

I wore wigs to match her hair, contact lenses to mimic her eyes. My pale skin, always so starkly different, was hidden beneath stockings, long sleeves, and layers of foundation at every family event.

And so, it was no surprise that Ruby walked to me just to snatch the wig on my head with her smirk widening.

“But what can I say? You’ve done a pretty good job changing yourself to look like me. Too bad, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never actually be me,” she said, her voice cutting.