I can see you

Chapter 6

(ROSY'S POV)

I took the long way home. Past the ballet studio with the cracked sign and dust-covered windows. I'd passed it a dozen times before, always telling myself I had no reason to look inside. I was halfway through pretending to sip my cold coffee when the girl's voice Stopped me.

"Sorry," she said, already too close. "I know this is random, but... have we met before?"

I looked up. She looked like a little older than me. Wide brown eyes and wind-tangled hair. A canvas tote bag with ink smudges across the strap-art student maybe, or one of those girls who drinks chamomile and dreams in charcoal.

"I don't think so," I said flatly.

Her eyes narrowed, searching my face too closely. I wanted to get up but some reason I didn't. Maybe part of me already knew what she was about to say.

"You just-God. You look exactly like her." She said her voice a little shaking in disbelief.

My heartbeat picked up."Like who?"

She bit her lip, almost embarrassed. "Riya. Her name was Riya. You could be her twin."she said with a light hearted chuckle.

That name hit me like static in a bathtub. Something inside my chest flinched. For some reason it felt like I have heard that name before. Like I was familiar with it. But I couldn't really remember where I had heard it.

Twin. I blinked. "I don't have a twin." Hell twin? I didn't even have a family.

"No... but I used to dance with someone named Riya."she said with cheeks red from embarrassment.

"Riya?" I repeated, my voice thinner now. Why did saying that same felt so warm?

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Quiet girl. Super kind. Kind of delicate, you know? Not in a weak way. Just soft. But when she danced, she... brightened. Like she wasn't made of the same stuff as the rest of us. Always stayed after class to clean up even if no one asked her to. Teachers loved her. Everyone did."

I didn't move.

"You look like her," she added, a little uncertain now. "Honestly, it's weird. She used to wear her hair the same way you do."

"I don't know anyone named Riya," I said quickly. "And I've never danced ballet."

That was true. At least, I thought it was.

The girl shifted on her feet. "She said she had a sister once. Or maybe she was a twin? I am not sure it's been so long but ... I think she once mentioned lossing a sibling maybe. She didn't really explain. She talked like she was afraid someone would use her words against her. Kind of poetic. Kind of sad." she paused like she remembered something.

"Here-see this girl? Second from the left?" She said pulling out her phone.

I stepped closer, squinting at the faded photograph. Six girls. All in the same uniform. Lined up on a rusting swing set. The second girl from the left had her face turned slightly away from the camera-just enough to keep it blurry. Just enough to make my heart stop. She looked like me. Exactly like me. Same sharp jawline. Same hair, parted the same way. Even the posture-slightly withdrawn, like she wanted to disappear. I felt the blood drain from my face.

A tightness coiled at the base of my throat.
My vision pulsed. I stepped back. No there is no need to panic, she could be some who just looked like me.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

The girl just nodded like she didn't believe that either. But even as I said it, something inside me... shifted.

The air felt tighter when she left and I found myself standing alone in the street like a statue . My heart was racing, though I couldn't say why. She had to be wrong. Mistaken. Just some girl confusing me with someone else.

Except... she'd looked so sure.

And that photo...it looked exactly like me.

And she hadn't looked surprised until I told her I didn't remember.

Back in my apartment, I pulled the sketchbook from under my bed. Edward's. Stolen. Mine, now.

I flipped past the familiar pages. The girl curled in on herself. The hand reaching into dark. The eyes I couldn't forget.

Then I stopped. There was a page I hadn't seen before. Not drawn in ink, but pencil-lighter, rushed. Two girls were standing beside each other like mirror images.

One smiling. One staring dead ahead. A chill went down my spine.

I dug through the drawer I kept locked. The one with the documents from the orphanage. A copy of my intake form. A grainy, photocopied photo. A note scribbled by a former caretaker: "No known relatives. Patient displays signs of early trauma, but no prior documentation exists. Suffers memory loss after fall from tree."

It was the only explanation I'd ever had for the gaps in my mind. I fell and I forgot. But lately, it felt less like forgetting and more like something had been... rewritten.

That night, I dreamed of fire. Of walls melting around me. Of a woman screaming.
And a girl-silent, watching-from the stairwell. She looked like me. She didn't blink.

I woke up gasping. The sketchbook was open again. Same page. Same twins. But now, someone had written two names beneath their feet: Rosy, Riya

I stared at the names until they blurred.

---

At breakfast, I asked the café owner infront of the ballet studio if he'd ever met someone named Riya.

He squinted. "You mean your sister?"

I froze.

"She used to come in here all the time," he added. "Years ago. Always sat in the corner booth. You don't remember?"

I shook my head.

He chuckled. "Maybe I'm losing it. I swear you're her spitting image."

I'm not sure what scares me more-that strangers keep calling me by her name... Or that part of me doesn't want to correct them anymore.

So maybe I did have a sister. Maybe she died. Maybe no one wanted to tell me. Maybe the orphanage lied. Or maybe- I was so desperate for having a family, to prove that I too matter to someone that I was grasping on straws.

The thought came softly. Like a fog rolling in through a cracked window. Maybe I was never Rosy. Maybe I had a sister once. Maybe they took her from me. Or maybe I left her behind.

But then again- Maybe I'm just tired.
Maybe I'm making patterns where there are none. Maybe trauma and loneliness rot the brain in quiet, clever ways.

I gripped the edge of the sink, staring into my own eyes, trying to find something familiar. But all I saw staring back... was her.

Maybe I am being so delusional in my fantasies that I am finally going crazy but If she really was my twin-then why do I feel like I'm the one who doesn't belong?