I Knew He Was His Twin

My fiancé, who had always been cold and detached, suddenly turned passionate. During dinner, he would pull me onto his lap and feed me the savory pastries I liked, brushing the crumbs from my lips. When we relaxed, he would watch movies with me, his hand resting on my bare thigh, gently caressing my skin. And in bed at night, he would whisper for me to wrap my legs tightly around his waist as he drove into me with relentless force. Afterward, while I lay in bed glowing with complete satisfaction, he walked out onto the balcony for a cigarette. He must have thought I was asleep. Through the open balcony door, I heard Ian's voice coming from his phone on speaker: "The doctor said Nina only has three months left. I promised her a proper, real wedding before she dies." "Jade has severe face blindness. She can't tell us apart. Luke, please, just cover for me a little longer." "Her parents already agreed to help keep the secret. Nothing will go wrong." The man sharing my bed was my fiancé's twin brother, Luke Vance. Ian, the man I'd been planning to marry, was keeping his dying first love company. I had known all along that the man in my bed had been swapped. I might have face blindness, but I am certainly not blind. I never called him out on it, though. After all, his brother was far better in bed than he ever was. I quietly rolled back over on the bed and pretended to be asleep until a cool body slipped under the covers beside me. I naturally curled up against him. "Cut back on the smoking," I murmured. He paused for a second before nodding. "Got it." I was in the final phase of a rehabilitation program for prosopagnosia. The specialists worked through the Vance family's private clinic. I'd spent months learning ways to recognize familiar faces. I wanted to finish the program and receive their assessment before I left. A few nights later, while walking home late, I noticed someone tailing me in the dark. My heart raced, and I dialed Ian's number immediately. "Ian, someone's following me. Can you come pick me up..." "Don't panic. Send me your location. I'm on my way." Twenty minutes later, his familiar car pulled up outside the convenience store where I was hiding. Yet, the person who stepped out of the driver's seat was still Luke. Only this time, the moment my eyes met his face, I recognized him instantly. For once, I didn't have to wait for him to speak or catch the smell of tobacco. I knew his face. I wasn't ready to call it a cure, but something I'd practiced for months was finally beginning to hold. I clearly saw the raw panic in his eyes as he pulled me fiercely into his chest. "I'm sorry I'm late." Maybe it was just my imagination, but his voice carried a faint trace of desperate tenderness. That night, Luke tried to make an excuse to leave. Instead, I pushed him down onto the bed, straddled his hips, and let my fingers graze over his firm, sculpted chest. "Babe, stay with me tonight." I heard him swallow hard. In the end, his hands locked around my waist, pulling me down to him. "Okay." Luke left in the dead of night, and Ian didn't show up until the next morning. They genuinely believed that swapping places while I was asleep kept the whole charade completely undetectable. At breakfast, I recognized Ian's face before he said a word. In the past, I had to rely strictly on his cologne, the timbre of his voice, and the feel of his skin to know who he was. Now, I could connect his features to the person they belonged to. The defined brow, the straight bridge of his nose, the tiny mole just below the outer corner of his right eye—honestly, he was breathtakingly handsome. For years, I'd studied clear photographs that never seemed to stay familiar, and traced those same features with my fingertips. That morning, the recognition held. Yet after staring at him for several quiet seconds, I hesitated and called out: "Luke? Is that you? Is Ian still busy at the office today?" Ian froze in his tracks. "Jade, it's me. It's Ian." Just like every other time I had made an embarrassing mistake in the past, I hurriedly looked down. "I'm so sorry... I mixed you up again. I'm so useless..." Ian didn't scold me, but his brows drew into a tight knot. In the past, every time I mistook him for someone else, it would eat away at him for days. Once, we went out to a restaurant, and I ended up walking alongside Luke for half a block before realizing my mistake. When Ian dragged me back, his face was flushed red with frustration. "Silly girl. You can mistake anyone else in the whole world, but you have to learn to recognize your own boyfriend." After that incident, he strictly wore one signature cologne, wore the exact same watch every single day, and narrowed his entire wardrobe down to strictly black and white. "I won't ever change how I look. That way, one day, you'll be able to spot me instantly, even across a crowded room." Now, I finally could. But I wasn't looking at the man who wanted to be seen. Ian sat down beside me and gently patted my head. "Don't walk home alone so late anymore. With your condition, it's too dangerous." "Okay." "Were you terrified last night?" A sudden sting hit the back of my nose. Hiding in that dark alley last night, I really had been terrified. I had wished so desperately that the man rushing to my rescue would be him. But the one who arrived was still Luke. "I was okay. You came for me, didn't you?" Moments later, his phone vibrated. Ian glanced at the screen, immediately stood up, and walked out onto the balcony before answering. Through the glass door, I watched him murmur a few hurried words, his forehead creasing with tension. When he walked back inside, his car keys were already in his hand. "Something urgent came up at the office. I have to run." I didn't ask a single question, which actually made Ian pause at the door. "Aren't you going to ask when I'll be home?" "I used to be clingy. I know how busy your work is now. Don't worry about me." He studied my face for two silent seconds before finally saying, "I'll bring you that sweet pastry you like on my way home tonight." Except, I hated sweet pastries. I despised sugary treats. Years ago, to make sure he never forgot my preferences, Ian had created a dedicated note on his phone: [Jade: No cilantro, no organ meat, strictly hates sweets.] When had he started mixing up my tastes? I didn't know. All I knew was that Nina had a massive sweet tooth. Ian simply didn't remember my preferences anymore. That afternoon, Nina randomly sent nine photos to my Snapchat. [Jade, didn't these turn out gorgeous?] Endless fields of flowers, matching couple outfits, and the side profile of a handsome man kneeling down to smooth the hem of her gown. I zoomed in on the photos. Ian's face was unmistakable. His head was bowed, his long fingers gently straightening her bridal veil. His expression was tender and devoted, identical to the way he used to kneel on the sidewalk years ago to tie my loose shoelaces. So this was his "urgent business at the office." I stared at the screen for a long time, finally sending back a polite, generic thumbs-up emoji. Everyone around me kept insisting Nina had found a wonderful fiancé, taking cruel advantage of my face blindness so I would never suspect it was Ian. She probably assumed that even if she shoved Ian's face right under my nose, I wouldn't be able to tell. I had heard Ian on Luke's speakerphone a few nights earlier. After weeks of noticing differences in the man beside me, I finally had proof. And my transfer request to the Southern Branch had already been approved. I had exactly six days left before I walked out of their lives forever.