Double Deception

Chapter 7: The Unmasking

I didn't sleep.

The message from the night before burned in my mind like a fever.

You made her remember.

The words pulsed behind my eyes every time I closed them. I'd stared at my phone until the screen dimmed, waiting for another message, for some explanation that never came. By dawn, exhaustion had twisted into resolve. I couldn't live another day inside this fog of half-truths. I needed to see her — to look into her eyes and finally know which version of her was real.

When the sun rose, pale and cold through my blinds, I picked up my phone and called her.

She answered on the third ring, her voice small. "Alex?"

"We need to talk," I said. "Now."

A long pause. "Is everything okay?"

"No," I replied flatly. "Come over. Please. This can't wait."

The Arrival

An hour later, I heard the knock.

Emily stood in the doorway, pale and fragile, her posture tight like she was bracing for impact. Her hair was pulled back neatly, but her eyes betrayed her — red-rimmed, hollowed by sleeplessness.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Come in."

She hesitated, then stepped inside, her arms folded across her chest like a shield. The silence between us was heavy, charged with everything that had gone unsaid.

I closed the door quietly behind her, the soft click sounding louder than it should have.

She stood near the couch, glancing at me with anxious uncertainty. "What's going on?"

I didn't answer right away. I could feel the anger tightening in my chest, the hurt beneath it, the disbelief that I was still standing here trying to make sense of her.

"Sit," I said finally, gesturing toward the couch.

She obeyed, lowering herself slowly, hands twisting in her lap.

I stayed standing, pacing once, twice, before I stopped in front of her.

"I saw Emma last night."

The Confrontation

Her head jerked up. "What?"

"At a nightclub," I said. "She was wearing your bracelet."

Her eyes flickered, a quick flash of panic she tried to mask with a nervous laugh. "That's impossible."

"It's not impossible," I said coldly. "It's the truth."

She looked away, fingers gripping the edge of the cushion like it might keep her grounded.

"Emily," I said quietly, "it's over. The lies. The half-truths. The pretending." I took a slow step toward her. "I know who Emma is."

She blinked, and for the first time, tears welled in her eyes. "Alex, please—"

"She's you," I cut in. "Emma isn't your twin. She's you."

Her face went white. The silence that followed was unbearable.

Finally, her lips parted, trembling. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't," I said, voice sharp. "Don't insult me by pretending anymore."

The dam broke then. My anger poured out, everything I'd held back for weeks.

"I've seen the signs — the scar on your wrist, the way Emma knows things only you could know. The bracelet. The texts. The way your stories never match. You've been living two lives, Emily. And you've been lying to me through both."