Novels by Kwagala Kim

Sara woke up with a knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach. Today wasn’t just any school day she was going to an elite school, the kind she had only seen on the news, the kind she had once dared to dream of attending. She had wished for this moment so many times… yet never imagined it would come like this.Not as Sara Johnson.But as Cara.Her gaze drifted to the neatly arranged clothes Cara had prepared for her. Elegant. Classy. Far from anything Sara had ever owned. She let out a small sigh and forced a shaky smile.“Am I going to study… or attend a fashion gala?” she whispered to herself.Still, this was her reality now at least for the time being. Gathering courage she didn’t feel, Sara slipped into the outfit. To her surprise, it fit perfectly, as though it had always belonged to her.Taking one last deep breath, she squared her shoulders and headed downstairs, each step pulling her deeper into the life that was never meant to be hers.Her mother was already waiting downstairs,

Over the next few days, her mother summoned stylists, hairdressers, and makeup artists. Each detail was meticulously planned: her hair, her nails, even the way she carried herself. Clothes were carefully chosen from Cara’s wardrobe, each outfit copied to perfection. Every morning, Sara practiced Cara’s accent, her gestures, her expressions, even the little quirks she had memorized from years of watching her sister in magazines and on television.Margaret filled her in on everything every person in Cara’s life, every routine, every mannerism. Sara memorized it all.Finally, after endless hours of practice and preparation, Sara stood in front of a full-length mirror. She hardly recognized herself. The reflection staring back was not the simple girl from the mountains this was a polished, glamorous, confident young woman. Her lips curved into a small, triumphant smile.For the first time, she felt what it was like to look exactly like her sister. To step into Cara’s world, to embody the

The moment she spotted Cara, rolling her wheelchair beside her mother coming from one of the downstairs rooms.Her heart clenched.And just like last night, she didn’t know what to say or how to feel when she saw the both of them .“Oh, my child, you cooked?” Margaret’s face lit up as they reached the dining table. “It smells wonderful.”“Good morning, Mum,” Sara said with a soft smile.“Good morning, darling. Were you comfortable?”Sara nodded, even though the truth was far from it.She turned her gaze to the wheelchair approaching the table. “Good morning, Cara,” she whispered, her voice barely steady.“Morning,” Cara replied flatly, not even bothering to mask her lack of interest.The indifference stung, but Sara forced a hopeful smile. “Anyway, I made breakfast. Your favorite. Remember when we were kids you loved pancakes, so I”“Hey.” Cara’s voice cut through her like a blade. “Are we still kids? And I don’t eat that. I’m not trying to get fat. Besides, I’m not in the mood.”Wit

Sara’s eyes lingered on her twin. Cara sat in the living room scrolling through her phone, hair perfectly styled, nails glossy, lashes long and flawless; everything about her screamed glamour… except for the wheelchair beneath her. Except for the bandaged leg that refused to let her stand.“My dear,” Margaret announced proudly, “I’m back… and I brought your sister.”Only then did Cara finally lift her gaze from the screen.Their eyes met.No smile.No tears.No rush forward.No laughter or dramatic embrace like Sara had always imagined in her dreams.Just emptiness. Cara’s expression was unreadable, her face cold and distant, as if she was staring at a stranger instead of the girl who once shared her heartbeat.After a painfully long, awkward silence, Cara finally spoke.“You’re welcome.”That was it.Sara’s throat went dry. She clutched the strap of her bag tighter, forcing a small, shaky smile.“T–Thank you,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart aching at the un

“Mother?”Sara froze, her breath snagging in her chest as she stared at the figure in the doorway. For nine long years she had lived without this woman without a voice, without a shadow, without a trace. Never, not even in her boldest dreams, had she truly believed she would stand face-to-face with her again.Beside her, her father mirrored the same stunned disbelief, his expression carved in shock.The woman stepped inside with graceful confidence, tall and striking, dressed as though she had stepped straight out of a film set. Every movement was careful, deliberate like someone who had rehearsed this moment countless times.With tears that seemed almost too perfectly timed, she rushed forward.“Sara… my child,” she whispered, gathering Sara into her arms. “I missed you so much. That’s why I came back.”Sara’s throat tightened. For years she had silently prayed for this reunion for her mother, for the twin sister she lost along with her. Countless nights she had imagined this embrace