I stepped out of the bathroom, having spent far too long just staring at my reflection and trying to memorize this new version of myself. My fingers still trembled slightly, but I had practiced my expressions—blank, confused, but soft. Not too suspicious.
The once-busy hospital room was quiet now. The doctors and nurses had left, and only one person remained. A young man, maybe in his mid-twenties, leaned casually against the windowsill in a simple t-shirt and black jeans. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were anything but—they were sharp, observant, and filled with a worry he tried hard to mask.
He took a small step forward, hand outstretched to help me walk. I froze, surprised. My heart stuttered, but I quickly waved him off with an awkward laugh. "I-I'm okay. Just a little dizzy," I muttered, refusing his hand.
The man didn't push. Instead, he studied me closely, the worry deepening into something unreadable.
"You… what's your name?" I asked hesitantly. Then, as if realizing my mistake, I blinked and added quickly, "Oh—sorry. I guess I really did lose my memory."
His brows knitted. For a second, he didn't speak. The silence stretched long enough to make me nervous. Then, finally, his voice broke through—quiet but steady.
"My name is Mike," he said. "Your twin older brother."
Twin. Brother.
My mouth parted slightly. So he's my twin older brother.
That explains the worried look in his eyes—the kind of worry that feels instinctive, not forced.
We must've had a close relationship.
A small wave of relief washed over me. If he cares this much, then maybe… just maybe, I don't have to be so afraid to act in front of him.
Mike took a breath and continued, as if trying to anchor me. "You're Mia Isabella. You're twenty-three. We're twins. And including me, you have three other older brothers. You'll meet them soon."
He gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh—eldest brother's calling," he said, glancing down at his phone as it buzzed in his hand. "Rest a bit. I'll get the nurse to check on you."
I nodded, saying nothing.
As he turned away, I watched his back, shoulders tense, and something inside me cracked.
He doesn't know. He doesn't know that I play pretend.
And I don't know… How much longer I can keep pretending.
***
Leaning casually against the corridor wall, one hand tucked into his pocket, Mike pressed the answer button on his phone. Despite his simple casual T-shirt and laid-back posture, his sharp features and quiet aura made every nurse who passed by steal a glance—and leave with pink cheeks.
"Hello, eldest brother. It's me," he greeted calmly.
A cold, low voice crackled through the speaker—cool as falling snow. "I heard she's awake. So, she didn't manage to ruin herself entirely this time."
Mike frowned, his jaw tensing slightly. "She… seems to have lost her memory. Why don't you come visit this evening? Maybe seeing you could help jog her memory."
A soft scoff echoed through the phone. "No thanks. I'd rather not deal with her pretending to be pitiful again just to cling to me. You know how she used to act—spoiled, dramatic, always playing the victim. And now? The latest scandal almost exploded. Do you know what she tried this time?"
Mike's heart skipped. "…What are you talking about?"
"She tried to drug her fiancé. Aphrodisiac in his drink. Lucas told me everything. She planned to trap him—get him into bed and force his hand with a scandal. He's furious and ready to call off the engagement."
Mike straightened from the wall, his fingers tightening around the phone. "That's not possible," he said, his voice sharper now. "Mia might be reckless, yeah, and she's always been loud and prideful—but she'd never go that far. She's not… like that."
The line went quiet for a moment.
"She's been hiding her real face for years, Mike. Just because she's your twin doesn't mean you really know her. I've cleaned up after her one too many times. I won't do it again."
The call ended with a click, and Mike was left staring at his reflection in the hospital window. Doubt crept in, uninvited. But deeper than that… was something else.
***
After a series of medical examinations, the results were finally in.
In the consultation room, only the doctor, Mia, and Mike were present. The overhead light cast a soft glow, and the sterile air was thick with unspoken anxiety.
Doctor Leon adjusted his glasses, glancing at the chart in his hand before looking up at them.
"There's nothing alarming about her head injury. Just a mild concussion—she's lucky. However, the memory loss appears unrelated to the physical trauma. In cases like this, we suspect psychological causes. I recommend she see a psychiatrist. It's possible she's suffering from dissociative amnesia, brought on by emotional trauma."
My lips parted slightly in surprise, but I quickly composed myself.
"Psychiatry?" Mike asked, brows furrowing. "Is it that serious?"
"It's not uncommon," Doctor Leon reassured gently. "Her brain may be trying to protect her from something painful. Just be patient with her. Stress could make it worse. Help her feel safe—stable."
Mike nodded slowly. "I understand. Thank you, doctor."
After the doctor left, the silence between them lingered like a fog.
Mike gently pushed the wheelchair down the corridor. Fluorescent lights flickered above them, one after another, their soft buzzing oddly comforting.
"You hungry?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "Craving anything?"
I blinked, dragging myself back from my racing thoughts.
"Not really... Just a little tired, maybe a bit sleepy. Everything today's been a lot," I murmured truthfully, my voice low and a little distant.
Please let me rest my throbbing head for a second.
"Alright. Let me know if you want anything," Mike said, eyes fixed ahead.
"Okay. Thank you, Mike." I tried to offer a polite, faint smile—but he couldn't see me from behind anyway.
Suddenly, the wheelchair came to a stop.
I turned my head slightly. "Is something wrong?"
Mike's jaw was clenched tight. "You… never used to say 'thank you.'"
A beat passed.
My breath caught a split-second hitch in my chest, before I forced myself to blink and look ahead, pretending not to hear the doubt hidden beneath his calm voice.
My palms were already clammy, and cold sweat prickled at my temple.
Did he find out? Did I slip up? Oh god… not now. Not this soon.
"…It's nothing," Mike muttered after a long silence, his tone unreadable as he resumed pushing the wheelchair forward.
I exhaled softly, a shaky breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Relief bloomed in my chest—but it was short-lived.
Behind me, I could feel it—his gaze. Piercing. Studying. Suspicious.
It burned between my shoulder blades like a laser trying to peel back my skin and read the truth beneath it.
He doesn't believe me.
She's different, Mike thought, narrowing his eyes at the back of my head. Softer. Quieter. Polite. She said 'thank you'—Mia never thanked anyone. She used to bark orders like a general. Now she speaks like she's walking on glass.
He clenched his jaw, trying to reason with the storm rising inside him.
What happened to her? Is this a trick? A mask? Or… did something really change in that crash?
He didn't say it aloud, but one thing was certain, he would find out the truth—no matter what.