Chapter 2

I truly believed we were in love. I thought our life, our future, was real. I dreamed of a family, of a home filled not just with expensive furniture but with warmth.

Then Derek Chen came back.

He had been Olivia' s fiancé before me, another dancer. He left the country five years ago for a bigger opportunity, leaving her behind. I knew the story. She had been heartbroken. I thought I was the one who healed her.

His return was quiet at first. A mention here, a text message there. Then he was at our home for dinner.

The night he came, I was in the kitchen when I heard voices from the study. Olivia and her brother, Alex. I didn't mean to listen, but the door was slightly open.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Liv?" Alex's voice was low. "Bringing him back into the picture? What about Ethan?"

Olivia's reply was cold, sharp. "Ethan served his purpose."

My blood ran cold. I pressed my ear closer to the door.

"He was a good distraction," she continued, her voice void of any emotion. "And he looks enough like Derek from a distance. It was comforting. But the original is back now. There's no need for a replacement anymore."

Replacement.

The word hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, my hand covering my mouth to keep from making a sound. All this time, all the love I thought we had, was it all because I looked like him?

Later that evening, I watched them. Olivia and Derek. They sat close on the sofa, talking about old times. She laughed, a genuine, happy laugh I hadn't heard in months. A laugh she never shared with me anymore.

Derek looked over at me and smiled. It was a charming, easy smile, but his eyes were cold. I looked from his face to my reflection in the dark glass of the window. The same dark hair. The same jawline. The same build. We weren't twins, but the resemblance was undeniable. I wasn't her husband. I was a ghost. A stand-in.

The next few weeks were a nightmare. Derek started telling stories about his time away, painting a picture of hardship and struggle. He said he was cheated by a foreign company, that he lost everything. He cried in front of Olivia, talking about how he never stopped loving her. It was a performance, and Olivia was his captive audience.

He played the part of a broken man perfectly. He would talk about his ex-wife who left him and took their son, leaving him with nothing. It was a sad story, designed to pull at Olivia's heartstrings.

One night, he made a show of saying he should leave, that he was causing too much trouble between Olivia and me.

"I can't stay here," he said, tears in his eyes. "It's not right. I'll go. I don't want to ruin your happiness."

Olivia grabbed his arm, her face a mask of panic. "Don't you dare leave, Derek. I won't lose you again. I'll protect you. You'll stay here, with me."

I stood in the doorway, watching this drama unfold. I felt like I was fading, becoming invisible. I turned and walked out of the apartment, out into the cold night. I just needed to breathe.

I walked for hours, my mind a blank. I didn't know where to go. The home I thought was mine was no longer a home.

I didn't go back that night. I slept on a bench in a small park. When I finally returned to the apartment the next morning, my key no longer worked. The doorman looked at me with pity.

"Mr. Stone, Ms. Stone changed the locks."

I waited in the lobby. An hour later, the elevator doors opened. Olivia walked out, holding the hand of a small boy. Derek was right behind them, his hand on Olivia's back.

The boy looked about four years old. He had Derek's eyes.

Derek saw me standing there. A triumphant smirk played on his lips. He walked right up to me, the boy still holding Olivia's hand.

"Ethan," Derek said, his voice loud enough for everyone in the lobby to hear. "I want to thank you. You did a great job keeping my seat warm while I was gone. But I'm back now. You can go."

The lobby staff, the other residents, they all turned to look. Their eyes were full of curiosity and pity. I stood there, frozen, my face burning with shame.

I looked at Olivia, waiting for her to say something, to defend me, to tell him he was wrong.

She just looked back at me, her face a blank canvas. She said nothing. Her silence was louder than any insult. It was an agreement. My heart, which had already been cracked, shattered into a million pieces.