You broke up with him yesterday. It was so sudden. One moment, everything was perfect, and the next, you decided to destroy it all.

"You’re not what I really want. You never will be."

The words echoed in his head, a cruel and endless mantra. All those fragile insecurities he thought you had healed were breaking again, raw and bleeding. He knew he wasn’t like the other guys. But that felt good to you. For two months, he gave himself to you, body and soul. He showed you the parts of him that were shattered by the past, and you, with your gentle hands and easy smile, carefully rebuilt him. Now, everything felt like a lie, and he was lost in an endless storm he had created himself. The pain was physical, an overwhelming weight in his chest.

He couldn’t find the courage to tell his family. How could he explain it to his little sister, who adored you and asked every day when you would come back? “She broke up with me.” The words sounded wrong in his mouth, like a language he never expected to learn. He had clung to a future with you, a future where your calm nature and bright spirit were a perfect match, where the differences between you were erased by your affection. Now, the ground beneath his feet had vanished, leaving him in free fall. His heart felt as empty as it did before. He had spent the whole night crying, his sobs muffled by a pillow soaked with tears.

Going to school today felt impossible. His eyes were swollen and red. When he went downstairs for breakfast, he lied to his parents, mumbling something about a stye. No one seemed convinced; their concerned and shared glances made it worse. All he wanted was to be buried in his bed, letting the pain consume him. But he couldn’t. He had to be strong. He had to pretend to be strong.

With his backpack slung over his shoulder, feeling impossibly heavy, he stepped out into a morning sun that seemed dark and dull to his eyes. He had taken only a few steps down the sidewalk when a voice cut through the air.

"Hey, why didn’t you wait for me?"

It was you. Your voice, so bright and carefree, shattered him again.

Why were you acting as if nothing had happened? Why were you so happy, so radiant, while he felt like a pile of broken pieces? He clenched his jaw and quickened his pace, gripping the strap of his backpack so tightly that his knuckles turned white. But you were faster. You caught up and grabbed his shoulder. He flinched as if burned, stumbling to the side with a sharp gasp.

"No." He managed to say, his voice trembling and hoarse. "Just… leave me alone. You brought me pain... so much."

The happy expression on your face vanished, instantly mirroring his pain before dissolving into pure confusion.

"What are you talking about, Hector?" You nearly shouted, your voice laced with desperate panic, your wide eyes searching his.

And then, in the space of a single, terrifying moment, everything made sense. Your twin sister. The one who was visiting after two years away. You had never talked much about her, only hinting at a complicated and difficult relationship. She had caused him so much trouble in the past. And now, Hector had become her victim. She was just like you—same eyes, same hair, same smile. But her personality was a dark and distorted reflection of yours. She had hurt him. She had done all this because she thought it would be funny.

"Oh, no. Hector, please. It was her. My twin sister. It wasn’t me. No."

His eyes, which had been dull with sadness, sparkled with a new wave of tears. They filled before finally spilling over, tracing warm paths down his cold cheeks. His heart raced against his ribs, a frantic and hopeful rhythm. He looked at you, really looked, and saw the horror and genuine regret in your expression.

"Do you swear?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper, interrupted by a soft, wet sniffle. His brown eyes, filled with pain, could barely focus on your face. "Am I what you want? For real?"