Lia
I met his gaze, tone flat. "Lia." Mark paused, cup mid-air. "She added me," I continued, detached as a report. "Asked me to be her bridesmaid." "Brid… bridesmaid?!" He choked, eyes widening—not denying the fact, but stunned by Lia’s audacity. "Yes, bridesmaid," my stare pinned his evasive eyes. "She seems… fond of me. Your—" Deliberate pause. "—bride." The word sliced through the air. Mark paled. Lips pressed; throat bobbed before he looked down. Silence crashed, thick with our ragged breaths. His fists clenched on his knees, knuckles whitening. Struggling. Rehearsing nonexistent explanations.
Lie? Confession?
At last, he looked up. Eyes complex—guilt, panic, desperate justification. "Amy… hear me out…" Voice sandpaper-rough. "Hear what?" I asked. "That this Mark isn’t you? A namesake? Lia’s error?" I pointed to "Mark Lee" on screen. "Or…" Pause. Heart iced. "Your twin brother?" My calm unnerved him. He stepped forward urgently: "No! Amy! It’s not what you think!" "Then what?" I leaned back, distancing. "Cloud Haven Tower C, 1802? Lia’s closet? Her vanity? Her hydrangeas?" I tossed phrases from his laptop. Mark froze. Statue-still. Stunned I knew so much. The study… he understood.
Cowardly Plea
"Amy…" Voice thick with remorse. "I failed you truly" Admission. No denial. "How long?" Ice coated my words. He lowered his head. "Over six months." Six months. We’d been engaged a year. Meaning shortly after proposing, he… My stomach lurched. "Why?" I asked—self-flagellation, knowing the answer sickened. Mark lifted his head, eyes genuinely anguished. Not pretending. "I don’t know" Hands raked through hair. "Stress maybe work and…" Rambling. "And us nearing marriage… I felt… felt…" Words failed. "Felt stale?" I supplied. "No! Never!" He denied fiercely. "I love you, Amy! Always! Truly!" "Love?" My lip twitched grotesquely.
"So you love me and Lia?" Her name made his gaze flicker—tenderness? Remorse? Unreadable. "She… she’s innocent…" Low, justifying. "Like… a girl needing protection… With her… it’s different…" "Relaxed? No acting?" I pierced it. He flinched. Admitted. Dual lives. With me, he played "perfect." With Lia, he could be "real"? Or was that another role? "So, your plan?" Core question. "Marry her? Hide it? Lie to her?" Mark shut his eyes in pain. "I don’t know Amy really don’t…" Cowardice. Greed. Grasping both worlds. "Want both?" Silence. Deafening. Affirmation. Disgust and disappointment drowned anger. Three years with this man—my intended—revealed a soul of cowardice and selfishness.
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I met his gaze, tone flat. "Lia." Mark paused, cup mid-air. "She added me," I continued, detached as a report. "Asked me to be her bridesmaid." "Brid… bridesmaid?!" He choked, eyes widening—not denying the fact, but stunned by Lia’s audacity. "Yes, bridesmaid," my stare pinned his evasive eyes. "She seems… fond of me. Your—" Deliberate pause. "—bride." The word sliced through the air. Mark paled. Lips pressed; throat bobbed before he looked down. Silence crashed, thick with our ragged breaths. His fists clenched on his knees, knuckles whitening. Struggling. Rehearsing nonexistent explanations.
Lie? Confession?
At last, he looked up. Eyes complex—guilt, panic, desperate justification. "Amy… hear me out…" Voice sandpaper-rough. "Hear what?" I asked. "That this Mark isn’t you? A namesake? Lia’s error?" I pointed to "Mark Lee" on screen. "Or…" Pause. Heart iced. "Your twin brother?" My calm unnerved him. He stepped forward urgently: "No! Amy! It’s not what you think!" "Then what?" I leaned back, distancing. "Cloud Haven Tower C, 1802? Lia’s closet? Her vanity? Her hydrangeas?" I tossed phrases from his laptop. Mark froze. Statue-still. Stunned I knew so much. The study… he understood.
Cowardly Plea
"Amy…" Voice thick with remorse. "I failed you truly" Admission. No denial. "How long?" Ice coated my words. He lowered his head. "Over six months." Six months. We’d been engaged a year. Meaning shortly after proposing, he… My stomach lurched. "Why?" I asked—self-flagellation, knowing the answer sickened. Mark lifted his head, eyes genuinely anguished. Not pretending. "I don’t know" Hands raked through hair. "Stress maybe work and…" Rambling. "And us nearing marriage… I felt… felt…" Words failed. "Felt stale?" I supplied. "No! Never!" He denied fiercely. "I love you, Amy! Always! Truly!" "Love?" My lip twitched grotesquely.
"So you love me and Lia?" Her name made his gaze flicker—tenderness? Remorse? Unreadable. "She… she’s innocent…" Low, justifying. "Like… a girl needing protection… With her… it’s different…" "Relaxed? No acting?" I pierced it. He flinched. Admitted. Dual lives. With me, he played "perfect." With Lia, he could be "real"? Or was that another role? "So, your plan?" Core question. "Marry her? Hide it? Lie to her?" Mark shut his eyes in pain. "I don’t know Amy really don’t…" Cowardice. Greed. Grasping both worlds. "Want both?" Silence. Deafening. Affirmation. Disgust and disappointment drowned anger. Three years with this man—my intended—revealed a soul of cowardice and selfishness.
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