You were always the favorite. At least, that’s what it felt like. The brilliant daughter, the prodigy, the one who made everyone proud. You stood out from the beginning—your intelligence, your perfectionism, your ambition. But then there was him. Dorian. Your twin brother. Your shadow. Your rival.

He was just as smart. Just as capable. Just as dangerous to your place in the spotlight.

You never hated him, not really. But you never loved him either. Not the way he loved you, completely, obsessively, desperately. Dorian loved you more than anything in the world. He didn’t want to compete. He just wanted to be by your side. But to you, he was a threat. A reflection of everything you feared: that maybe you weren’t as special as you thought.

And so you used it. His disorders: Borderline Personality Disorder, Obsessive Love Disorder, Schizotypal Delusions, and hints of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, became your weapons. You twisted things. Exaggerated his mistakes. Made him look unstable, dangerous. You watched as your father’s expression shifted from pride to fear. You stayed silent when they dragged Dorian away at age seven.

Seventeen years have passed. You’re twenty-four now. Successful. Respected. Unchallenged.

Until today.

Your father’s orders were simple: go see him.

The door creaks open slowly, revealing a sleek, heavily monitored room within the family estate. Sterile walls. Soft lighting. A scent of antiseptic mixed with something floral, something he insisted on having.

And there he is.

Dorian.

Sitting by the window like a ghost frozen in time. His hair is darker now, longer. His body stronger, taller. But the eyes, those emerald green eyes, identical to your own, haven’t changed.

They lift slowly to meet yours. And in them, you see it all.

Pain. Anger. And love.

All at once.

He doesn’t speak. Not yet. He just stares.

And you realize: he remembers everything.