Chapter 4

There are moments in life when you think you’ve got it all figured out. When you convince yourself you’re tougher than you ever imagined, that you’ve mastered the art of holding it together. But then comes the morning after, the cruel light, and you realize you don’t know shit. 

That’s me, the night after my sister’s wedding. I smile, hold onto the idea that nothing has to change, that we can still be as close as we always were. I’ll treat Noah the same way. Elena will never know. Everything will be fine.

That fragile illusion shatters the next morning when Noah and Elena come to visit. After the usual pleasantries, Elena pulls me aside, shutting the door behind us. Her voice is calm. "Are you in love with Noah?"

The words knock the breath out of me. I stand there, mute, scrambling for something, anything, to explain myself, to deny, to deflect. But even the excuses I’ve rehearsed for years, the ones I whisper in my head whenever doubt creeps in, fail me now. The familiar claim, I met him first, dissolves before I can even speak.

"How did you know? Did… Noah?"

I don’t want to believe it. I begged him not to tell her. Pleaded. Noah and I were friends before Elena was ever in the picture. We were inseparable, practically stitched together. He’s the one thing in my life that’s just mine. But then he moved away, something about his grandmother needing help, and for a while, he was gone. Then, in high school, he came back.

He didn’t know I have a twin because I never told him. For a week, he thought Elena was me and that I was giving him the cold shoulder, avoiding him. Elena, of course, had no idea what he was talking about. And when the truth finally unraveled, we slipped back into our rhythm, our friendship resumed like it was never paused.

Noah tells me things he’s never told anyone else. I do the same. He wouldn’t betray me like this.Would he?

“Of course he did,” Elena says, and my stomach twists. My eyes flicker to her, searching for any sign of anger, but she only sounds… exasperated. “I had to drag it out of him, mind you, but he told me everything. How could you keep this from me, Ray?”

I stiffen, my shoulders curling inward. I can’t meet her eyes. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You could have told me.” She catches my scoff, exhales. “Ray, you’re my only sister. We could have talked about this.”

“It’s over.” My voice is flat, my movements detached as I shift away, shrugging as if I can physically shake off the weight of it. “There’s nothing left to talk about, Elena. He chose you. He married you. The end.”

I turn for the door, but she moves fast, stepping into my path with a hand raised, a silent plea to stop.

“Wait—listen to me first.” Her voice softens, but she’s not letting this go. “I want to know when it started. How long it’s been going on.”

I recoil instinctively, my body stiff, bracing. I don’t do screaming matches. Not like Elena. And if I did, I’d lose.

“Why do you want to know that, Elena?” My words are edged with something close to exhaustion. “What good could that possibly do? Look, I’ve put it behind me. I’m pissed you’re even bringing it up. You should be on your honeymoon or something.”

Silence stretches between us, taut and heavy. It’s long enough that I finally look up, look at her, to see what’s sitting behind her eyes. Pity. Not cruel. Not cutting. Just there. But not heavy enough to mean anything.

“This puts a hole in a lot of things, Ray,” she says.

My brow furrows. “Like what?”

“Like when I want to complain about him, trash-talk him, or just vent when things are rough. I can’t talk to my favorite person about any of it. It’s the worst.”

I swallow hard. Of course, she makes it about her. “You can still do that,” I say, sounding dumb as hell, like I actually know what I’m saying. “Noah’s still my friend. And I’m still your sister.”

“But I’m worried you’ll get hurt hearing all this,” she says, a tiny pout curling her lips.

I fight the urge to rub my face, swallow the bitter taste clogging my throat, and say, “I won’t get hurt.” Then, to shut her up for good, I toss out a little lie, face heating up in the process. “Actually, I’m going out with Peter.”

Elena either can’t tell or just chooses to ignore it. “Really? When?”

“Um… tonight.” Peter says he’ll call, but hasn’t yet. “So, yeah, I’m already moving on.”

“Oh,” she sighs like it’s the biggest damn relief, clutching her chest. “I thought we were gonna be rivals for life. What a relief. Oh my God, Ray, do you know what I was thinking the whole ride here? About having to face you, about how I’d talk to you so we could fix this. Thanks for making it easy.”

Her grin blinds me, and honestly, it pisses me off more than it should, but I keep my face deadpan, muscles relaxed. It’s a skill, learned right here in this house where she’s always the star, and I’m just the extra with fewer lines every damn day, till all I do is sigh and look away.

“What if it had been me?”

The words slip out before I can stop them, rebellious, unchecked. My heart quickens, pounding against my ribs, but I don’t take them back. I don’t meet Elena’s eyes, but I don’t retreat either.

“What if Noah had chosen me instead of you? What if I was the bride and you were the bridesmaid?” My gaze lifts, and I feel the unwanted sting of tears pooling against my will. “What if you were the one crying on his doorstep as he told you he never loved you? What then?”

A shaky breath pulls through my chest as I wait, wait for something real, something weighty.

Elena stares, momentarily stunned. But then, laughter.

I’m standing here, baring something raw, something rare, something that has never once left my lips, and my sister laughs. She swats my shoulder playfully, shaking her head as if I’ve said something ridiculous. “What are you saying? You know Noah has always loved me. It could never have been you, Ray.”

She softens the words with a gentle smile, like that will make them hurt less. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, but that’s life, right?”

That’s when I understand.Elena has always stood up for me. She calls me her favorite person. But in her eyes, I am still just an extension of her, just the shadow beside her light. Just the bridge that connects her to Noah.

And nothing more.

Without a word, I yank the door open and step into the hallway. Laughter spills from the living room, warm, familiar. I don’t need to look to know that Noah is there, charming my mom with some old story, weaving himself deeper into her good graces.

"Oh, hey, Ray."

I don’t respond. I keep walking, eyes fixed ahead, feet carrying me toward the front door.

"Esmeray, Noah is talking to you. Can you not be so rude?"

The tone stops me, almost. My muscles tense, instinct pulling me back, urging me to bow my head, to submit, to do as I’ve always done. But something inside me holds firm, and I keep moving.

"What’s wrong, sweetheart?" Dad’s voice is softer, concerned.

That’s the one that does it. My fingers tighten around the handle, my steps faltering.

"Esmeray Morales, I did not raise you to be so disrespectful."

Mom stands there, hair twisted into a bun, hands planted on her waist, firm, expectant. Noah blinks, confused, and from the staircase, Elena begins descending, catching the tension in the air.

"Sorry," I mutter, barely looking up. "I’m just distracted."

"Where are you going?" Noah asks, and I know, he knows. He understands what he’s done and that I am angry. He moves toward me, but I’m already opening the door.

"Out," I say. "Just out. Hope you have a nice stay, Noah."

I almost add something extra, a courtesy, something syrupy and polite, just to drive the point home, but Mom’s stare is sharp enough to silence the impulse.

"Hey," Noah starts after me, but I step forward without hesitation.

"Don’t follow me," I tell him.

I shut the door with deliberate calm.

But for Noah, it might as well have slammed.