THE WEDDING NIGHT

Rosaline’s POV

The sips I took from the champagne glass did nothing to ease my racing heart.

I had imagined how this day would play out ever since I was kid. I had watched people get married and wondered how my turn would feel. All my family and friends around me, visitors that came in fancy tuxedos and luxury cars, getting married to the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

But now I was living that dream. I was getting married.

Donald Mendez was my husband.

My husband.

Even thinking the words made me feel breathless in a way I couldn’t explain.

"You're staring again," Crystal leaned in and whispered, her blonde hair brushing my cheek. She had a huge, teasing grin on her face.

"Um, excuse me," I whispered back, not even looking at her. "That's my husband. I’m allowed to stare"

She laughed and clinked her glass against mine. "You're so in love it's actually disgusting."

No lies told there.

Donald was standing across the ballroom with his father, holding a glass of whiskey and looking like every woman’s forbidden fruit. Dark hair. Square jaw. Six feet of eye candy so sweet you’d have cavities just looking at him. He must have felt me watching because he looked up, his eyes finding mine through the ball room and smiled at me.

I felt the butterflies in my stomach start dancing in bliss. I looked away first because I was smiling too hard and it was embarrassing.

The reception went on for hours. My mother kept squeezing my hands, telling me how proud she was of me. My father wouldn’t admit that he cried when he was dancing with me. Toasts were made.The cake was cut. A live band played something slow and finally I had time to dance alone with Donald.

"How much longer do we have to stay?" he murmured into my ears, his breath sending electricity up my spine.

I tilted my head back to look at him. "Are you trying to rush our own wedding reception?"

His thumb traced a slow circle against my hip. "I don’t think the guests would find what I want to do to you right now decent."

My stomach dropped to the floor.

***

A phone call rang, pulling me out of my fantasies.

It was Donald's.

His brows furrowed when he looked at the phone screen and I knew he had to take it.

“Baby, I'm so sorry…”

“It's fine. I'll wait.” I said, reassuring him with a smile in case my words were not enough.

He leaned in and kissed me, leaving me standing on my tippy toes before he pulled away.

“I'll be back.”.

***

Donald came back a few minutes later and started taking me out of the reception with the impatience of a man who couldn’t wait any longer.

Guests still stopped us, offering their congratulations but Donald handled them with professional ease.

Soon, we were out.

***

The bridal suite was on the top floor of the hotel. Floor to ceiling windows. The view from this height made the city lights look like sparkling diamonds against the dark. The entire suite was filled with white roses someone had purposely picked out and there was a bottle of champagne that neither of us touched.

Donald closed the door behind us and it felt like all the noise of the world disappeared.

I turned to face him and suddenly I was nervous. Like a teenage girl standing in front of her high school crush.

He noticed. He always noticed everything.

"Hey," he said softly, crossing the room toward me. He cupped my face in both hands and tilted

it up toward his. "It's just me."

"I know," I whispered. "Makes me even more nervous."

He laughed quietly and kissed my forehead. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth. He took his sweet time, obviously not aware that my knees were already liquid and the pulsing ache between my thighs made it hard to stand. He finally kissed me properly, hard and greedily.

I had waited twenty-eight years for this night. I had saved every single piece of myself for this man. And he was making it worth the wait.

He lifted me up and gently placed me on the rose littered bed, his lips finding every bit of my skin. He skillfully took my clothes off me like a magician, but I was way too lost in my pleasure to be impressed.

Then he moved again.

My hips, stomach, breasts, nowhere was safe from this man’s kisses. His kisses traced my body till he was looking at my face again.

"I love you," I told him.

His lips crashed into mine. "I love you too, Rosaline."

The rest of the night was a blur of passion and pleasure I never thought was possible. All I knew was that at some point, I couldn’t handle it anymore and I passed out.

I don't know what time it was when I woke up.

The room was dark and quiet. I reached across the bed for Donald.

My hand found nothing.

I sat up slowly. "Donald?"

No answer.

I dragged myself out of bed to look around for him. The bathroom, sitting area, everywhere was empty like he was never there.

I told myself he probably went out for some air or maybe some morning jog. So I went to the kitchen, made breakfast for both of us and waited for him to be back.

I started to panic a bit when I waited for half an hour and he wasn”t back.

My phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it so fast I nearly dropped it.

Donald's name lit up the screen.

I exhaled and answered immediately. "Where are you? I woke up and…"

"Rosaline." His voice was warm and completely unbothered. "Good morning baby. How did you sleep?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the airport," he said casually. "I've been here since last night. Emergency with the Singapore deal. I tried not to wake you."

My grip on the phone loosened..

"You've been at the airport," I repeated slowly. "Since last night."

"Since about nine. I'm so sorry, I know it's our—"

I stopped hearing his words.

Since nine.

Our reception ended at ten.

He was never in that suite.

The man I gave myself to last night was not my husband.

THE MORNING AFTER

Rosaline's POV

I refused to believe it.

I stood there stunned, the phone still pressed against my ear. Donald’s voice was still going on, talking about some emergency in Singapore he had to take care of.

I wasn't hearing any of it.

All my brain could process was that he was never there last night. That I had waited so long just to give myself to somebody else.

"Rosaline? You've gone quiet on me."

I blinked out of my head. "I'm here," I said. My voice came out weak. "I'm just tired."

"Of course you are." He sounded genuinely sorry and that made everything even worse. "I'm so sorry about last night. You know what? When I'm back we’ll go for a real honeymoon. Wherever you want. Just name it"

"Okay."

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too."

I hung up.

Then I stood with the phone in my hand for a while, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened.

After that was a calm that frightened even me. It was like I was panicking on the inside but none of the storm that was raging inside me showed on the surface. All I wanted to do at that point was just to figure out how Donald was here last night and at the same time, wasn't here.

I set the phone down carefully. I walked back to the bedroom. I looked at the bed, memories of the past night now disturbing me more than anything, and I started searching.

I don’t even know exactly what I was looking for. Maybe some reason to prove that I wasn't at fault. I searched through everything, desperately looking for something I could use to vindicate myself. The bathroom, the sitting area, there was no sign of anyone even being there.

There were no men's clothes anywhere.

No watch on the nightstand. No shoes by the door. Nothing that belonged to Donald because Donald was never there.

I was about to give up and convince myself I had lost my mind when my foot hit something half hidden under the bed.

I crouched down and picked it up.

A cufflink.

It was a small, silver, expensive looking one that you could only find in luxury stores. I inspected the accessory with shaking hands and found a calligraphed initial at the back.

W.M.

Not D.M.

W.M.

Wesley Mendez.

My phone fell off my hands as I pieced everything together. I staggered backwards as the entire room seemed to tilt. My hands clasped my face as entire scenarios from last night started to replay in my head. The touches, kisses, all the little changes I totally ignored because I was too ‘into the moment’.

They were identical. Same face. Same height. Same voice.

I hadn't known.

God help me, I hadn't known.

I picked up my phone to call the only person I could think to call at that point; Crystal. I searched for her number with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling.

"It wasn't Donald," I said without greeting.

A pause. "What?"

"Last night. It wasn't Donald." The words sounded totally insane coming out of my mouth. "Donald was at the airport the whole night. He left at nine. Crystal…" my voice broke on her name. "It was Wesley."

There was a dead silence.

"Rosaline, are you sure?"

I looked at the cufflink still in my hand. "That’s what it looks like. I found his cufflinks. It had W.M engraved on it. What have I done, Crystal?"

She exhaled sharply. "Oh my God."

"I slept with Wesley on my wedding night. I slept with my brother-in-law on my wedding night, Crystal." Saying it out loud sounded like those ridiculous scenes in those movies that Crystal forces me to watch. It sounded dumb and I couldn’t even believe I was the one saying those words.

How could this be happening?

"Okay," Crystal said. Her voice shifted into the serious tone she uses on rare occasions. "Okay, listen to me. Do not do anything. Don't call anyone. Don't go anywhere. I'm coming to you right now."

"I need to talk to him. I need to talk to Wesley…"

"Not like this. Not when you're this upset. You'll say something you can't take back and make everything worse. Wait for me."

She was right. If I acted impulsively, everything would blow completely out of proportion..

I told myself I would wait.

But I did the exact opposite.

Twenty minutes later I was in my car. I hadn't even watched off the make-up on my face from last night. A wave of confusion crashed inside me and my jaws clenched so hard that it felt like my teeth cracked.

The estate was twenty minutes from the hotel but with the way I was speeding, I made it in thirteen.

I knocked on Wesley’s door so hard that I almost bruised my knuckles. After a few minutes, the door creaked open and I saw Donald’s face. The resemblance was uncanny. Everything was identical. The beard, the color of his eyes, even the dimples that appeared on his cheek whenever he smiled. Everything was similar to a fault.

But the thing that really broke something open in me wasn't his face.

It was his expression.

He didn't look surprised.

Not even a little bit.

He studied me with his eyes, noticing everything from my ruffled hair and the mascara still on my face, totally unfazed like he knew that he had been expecting me to come.

"You knew I'd come," I said.

He stepped aside to let me in without a word.

I walked in and spun around to face him, the cufflink balled in my fist. My chest was heaving up and down like I had just run a marathon.

"Please tell me I'm wrong," I said. My voice was shaking but I held his gaze. "Please tell me it wasn't you and I will walk out of here and never speak of this again."

Wesley looked at me for a long, quiet moment.

"Rosaline, I can’t tell you that," he said.

THE TWIN

Rosaline's POV

The silence that followed what he said felt like screamings in my ears.

We both stared at each other and for a moment I genuinely could not speak. I had thoughts of a lot of things I wanted to say on the drive to his place but everything had abandoned me.

Then, like a tidal wave, it all came rushing back at once.

"Why?" My voice cracked, my throat burning with painful heat. "Why would you do that to me? To your own brother?"

Wesley moved to the window. He stood with his back to me for a moment, looking out of the window like he was trying to carefully select the next words he was going to say. He finally stared at me and with such calm that I wanted to throw something at his face.

"I've been in love with you for three years, Rosaline."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Since the engagement party. The first night Donald brought you home." He said it so plainly.

I laughed. Not because anything was funny. I guess the only reaction I could let off was a hollow laugh that only came out when something unbelievable happens.

"You've been in love with me," I repeated slowly. "So you decided that the best thing to do was climb into my bed on my wedding night and…" I couldn't even finish the sentence. "You call that love? That's not love, Wesley. That's not even close to love. This is something else entirely."

"I know." He looked pained about it, and somehow this only made me angrier. "I know it was wrong."

"Wrong." I took a step toward him. "I was a virgin. Did you know that? Did Donald tell you that?"

My voice was rising and I didn't try to stop it. "I saved myself. Twenty-eight years I waited and I gave that to you thinking you were my husband. You took something from me that you had absolutely no right to touch and you're standing there telling me it was wrong like you accidentally stepped on my foot."

His face changed into something genuine. Shame? Regret? I couldn't tell exactly.

"Rosaline…"

"Don't." I held up a hand. "Don't say my name like that."

I opened my fist and threw the cufflink at his chest.

"You're going to keep your mouth shut. You are never going to tell Donald what happened. Not ever. As far as anyone in this family is concerned, last night did not happen. Do you understand me?"

He looked at the cufflink at the floor and then at me.

"And if I don't agree to that?"

“Then I will do everything in my power to ruin you. I’ll tell Donald and everyone else what you did today and show them what kind of man you are. Is that really what you want?”

A long pause.

"No," he said finally.

"Good. Stay away from me."

I walked out of the house feeling like I couldn’t breathe.

I was on autopilot throughout the entire drive back home.

***

Donald came home two days later, totally clueless about what had happened. He came back with a bouquet of flowers and an expensive pendant he had especially picked out for me and this made my chest hurt even more. He held me like he had missed me and kissed my forehead and called me his wife and I smiled back at every single thing he said, that made me feel dirty and shameful.

I had done nothing wrong.

I knew that.

But try telling that to the guilt weighing on my chest.

I tried acting totally normal. I cooked for him, laughed at his stories about Singapore. But sitting across from him at the dining table, looking at his face, a face that looked identical to his twin brother that had taken advantage of me, I felt an emotion I couldn’t quite put a tag on.

I was so busy being normal that I almost didn't hear the phone ring.

Donald reached for it first, glanced at the screen and stood up from the table. His expression shifted.

"I need to take this," he said. "Work."

He stepped out of the dining room.

I sat with my fork halfway to my mouth and told myself it was nothing.

Except it kept happening.

Calls that he had to move away to take. Late nights that extended to early mornings. Whenever he was with me he still acted the same. He still called me baby and held my hands in public.

But something was different.

I didn't have the emotional space to dig into it. Not with everything I was already carrying.

Then three weeks after Donald came home, my phone rang at eleven in the morning. I was sitting in the living area, doing nothing in particular when a call from my mother came in.

Except it wasn't my mother calling.

It was her housekeeper, Maria. Her voice sounded wrong before she even said anything.

"Miss Rosaline," she said. "You need to come. Something has happened."

"What?" I sat up, my voice turning anxious . "Maria, what happened? Where is my mother?"

"Please just come," she whispered. "And call your husband."

Twenty minutes later I pulled up to my parents' house to find two police cars parked outside and my father sitting on the front steps with his face buried in his hands. Panic shot through my body and I froze for a minute, my mind going through the worst possible scenarios.

I ran to him. "Dad. Dad, where is Mom? Where is she?"

He looked up at me and his eyes were so empty it stopped me cold.

"She's gone, Rosaline," he said. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Your mother is gone."

The world basically came to a pause.

And somewhere in that silence, before I could even begin to process what he had just said, my phone buzzed in my hand.

A message from an unknown number.

Four words.

This is just the beginning.