My best friend always said that checking your partner’s phone was a basic requirement in any serious relationship. So, one evening, I decided to conduct a surprise inspection of my boyfriend’s phone. He seemed completely calm, handing it over without a moment’s hesitation. It wasn’t until I tapped on that pinned group chat, “Brothers United,” and used his account to send a message: “Hey guys, guess which girl I’m with right now.” Three seconds later, the screen exploded with replies: [????] [Holy hell! Serena’s back?] [Serena’s back?! Seriously?! Where is she?!] Serena. I’d never heard that name in Leo’s life before. A chilling premonition crept over me. I snapped my head up. Leo, who had been lounging on the sofa, had somehow straightened his back. His gaze was fixed, unblinkingly, on the phone in my hand. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no sound came out. The phone vibrated frantically in my grip, new messages popping up one after another, buzzing relentlessly. I don’t know how long passed, but then he suddenly sprang up, practically lunging across the sofa. “Give it back!” His voice was hoarse, laced with an urgency and panic I’d never heard from him. Instinctively, I hid the phone behind my back, stood up, and took a step back. “Who is Serena?” I heard my own voice ask, dry and raspy. I looked at him, the man I had loved for two years, the man I thought I knew so well, the one I’d given my complete trust to. Yet, in that moment, he felt like a complete stranger. “Leo,” I repeated, my voice trembling uncontrollably, “Serena, who exactly is she?” “Just… just an old friend,” he finally managed to say. “Honestly, sweetheart, you have to believe me.” His voice softened. “It’s all in the past. I… I just didn’t want to bring it up, afraid you’d overthink things. I promise you, there’s absolutely nothing between us anymore.” He tried to approach me again, his tone urgent and earnest: “Don’t you know who’s truly in my heart? These past two years, haven’t you felt how I’ve treated you? Are you really going to completely dismiss everything we have just because of a thoughtless joke from my buddies?” It was true. For the past two years, he had been exceptionally good to me. Thoughtful, understanding, he remembered all our anniversaries, would buy me my favorite late-night snacks, and stayed constantly by my side when I was sick. Those warm, sweet memories flooded in, clashing fiercely with the icy suspicion, threatening to tear me apart. My hesitation seemed to register with him. He seized the opportunity, stepped forward, and gently pulled me into his embrace, his arms tightening around me, his chin resting on my head, his voice muffled: “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kept things about her from you. But I just thought there was no need to let past issues affect our present. I was wrong, please don’t be angry, okay? I’ll tell you everything from now on, hmm?” That night, he coaxed me with extreme tenderness, explaining that he and Serena had a brief, undefined relationship in college. They broke up due to personality clashes, and it ended on a sour note, which was why his friends remembered her so vividly. He said he no longer cared about her, and the only reason he hadn’t mentioned it was because he feared my jealous nature would make me upset. He sounded utterly reasonable, his eyes sincere, even a hint of being wronged for being misunderstood. I chose to believe him. Or perhaps, I chose the two years of emotional investment I had made, and the care he had shown me every day. I deleted the message from the group chat, pretending nothing had happened. He seemed to sigh in relief, treating me even better than before, more cautiously. Life, it seemed, had returned to its peaceful rhythm.
But some things, once shattered, can never truly be mended. I found myself involuntarily observing him. After he fell asleep, I would secretly pick up his phone. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself. His SnapChat, texts, and call logs were eerily clean. It wasn’t until a week later that, on a strange impulse, I tapped into his phone’s cloud drive. It required a password. My heart suddenly pounded. I knew all his common passwords, I tried them; they were wrong. A powerful intuition drove me. With trembling hands, I typed in his and Serena’s names. The screen flashed, and I was in. In that instant, my blood ran cold. Inside the cloud drive, there was a folder named “Project.” I clicked it open, revealing countless photos, and a subfolder within it, named “Her.” My hands trembled so hard I could barely hold the phone. I clicked on “Her.” There was only one photo. It was a girl’s back, wearing a white dress, standing in a field of sunflowers. Sunlight streamed down on her, making her look like something out of a painting. Even though it was just a back, I knew almost immediately: that was Serena. What chilled me to the bone even more was that back, that slightly curly long hair, the style of that dress… it was exactly what I had worn three years ago, on my first date with Leo. Shaking, I went back to the main “Project” folder and opened another subfolder. It was full of photos of *me*. Eating, sleeping, reading, laughing, angry… all kinds of moments of me. I used to think they were proof of his love, his sweet way of documenting our life together. But now, looking at these photos, a chill ran from my feet straight to the top of my head. Because in these photos, his camera angles, and the way he guided my poses… subtly, whether intentionally or not, they were replicating that back in the sunflower field. I abruptly looked up, at Leo sleeping soundly beside me. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, his features soft and relaxed. But in that warm bed, I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. With trembling hands, I returned to the “Project” folder and started checking other folders. Their names were simple and clinical: [001_J], [002_L], [003_M]… like cold, numerical codes. My fingers were icy, I could barely grip the phone, and subconsciously, I clicked on the closest one, [002_L]. Inside were more photos. Many photos. Another girl, long, slightly curly hair, wearing various light-colored dresses. She was laughing, reading, drinking coffee… many candid shots. But her hairstyle, her fashion sense, the curve of her profile in some shots… faintly, there was an indescribable sense of familiarity. I backed out and clicked on [003_M]. Same thing. Another girl. Long, slightly curly hair, a fresh, clean style. The number of photos seemed fewer than in 002. So… I wasn’t the first. And I might not… be the last. Was I just the latest in his collection of similar replacements? Did he ever feel an ounce of genuine affection for me? Or was it all just a concession based on my resemblance to her? That tiny spark of attraction, if it ever existed, for “Maya” as an individual, what did it amount to in the face of his massive obsession with Serena? Probably, ridiculously insignificant. I sat on the cold floor, hugging my knees, watching the sky outside slowly lighten.
*Ding-dong* The doorbell rang like a death knell, waking a sleeping Leo. He walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Driven by a strange impulse, I crept to the door and pressed my ear against the cold wood. I heard the door open. Then, a sweet, entitled, and utterly familiar female voice that was etched into my very soul, crisp and clear. “Leo, darling, surprise! I’m back! The freeway from the airport was packed, so I had to leave super early this morning… Oh, why do you look so upset? Don’t you want me here?” My breath hitched instantly. Serena. So, *this* Serena. She really was back. And she had come straight here. Outside the door, Leo’s voice was tense: “Serena? How… how did you find this place? Why didn’t you say you were coming?” “I wanted to surprise you, silly! What, are you hiding someone in there? Is it not convenient for me to come in?” “No… you…” Leo was clearly flustered. “Oh, right,” Serena’s voice suddenly dropped, laced with cunning and a hint of provocation, “my sister… Maya, she lives here, doesn’t she?” “Sister.” The word was like a rusty key, unlocking the long-sealed, dark corners of my childhood. In the backyard, the new swing Dad bought. I hadn’t even had a chance to sit on it once before Serena, in her pretty princess dress, was already on it, with Dad pushing her from behind, her laughter ringing clear. I ran over, but Dad just brushed me off, saying, “Maya, be gentle with your sister, she’s younger.” But she was only a few days younger than me. Dad’s gaze always followed Serena, praising her as smart, beautiful, a little genius. And I was always the insignificant side character, the “senseless” child who “couldn’t hold a conversation” and “whose grades weren’t as good as my sister’s.” My crayon drawings were casually tossed aside, while any numbers Serena scribbled were cherished by Dad like precious treasures. My grievances and tears only earned me the reprimand, “You’re the older sister, you should be more sensible.” Serena’s voice pulled me back to reality: “It’s really quite funny, Leo, darling.” “You chased my shadow for so long back then, and then… how did you end up with her?” “Were you using my sister to miss me?”
The last shred of sanity in my mind shattered. I yanked open the bedroom door. Serena saw me, showing no surprise whatsoever. Instead, she looked me up and down, a perfect, taunting curve on her lips. “Oh, sister, you really are here,” she said, her tone light. “Long time no see. Why are you still…” She deliberately paused for effect, her gaze sweeping over my old, worn t-shirt and swollen eyes, “…so careless about your appearance?” Leo stood awkwardly between us, looking from me to Serena, his lips moving, but not a single word coming out. The helplessness and fury of my childhood instantly drowned me. Why? Why could I never escape her? Why was even the sole happiness I had grasped, the happiness I thought was mine, merely a byproduct of her shadow? “Who’s your sister? My mother only had me,” I said with difficulty. Serena dramatically covered her mouth, her eyes, however, crinkled with amusement: “Sister, why are you still so sensitive? You were like this as a child, always so serious, never cute at all. No wonder Dad always preferred me.” Leo finally found his voice, pleading: “Serena! Stop it!” He then turned to me, trying to take my hand: “Sweetheart, calm down, let’s go inside and talk, okay?” I violently shook him off, my eyes still locked onto Serena. “You’re not welcome here,” I said, each word slow and deliberate. Serena, however, acted as if she’d heard something amusing. Instead of leaving, she took a step forward, watching the tension between Leo and me with keen interest, her gaze finally settling on Leo’s frantic, bewildered face. “Leo, darling,” she tilted her head, her voice innocent yet utterly cruel, “You seem really scared of my sister getting angry, huh? What, do you actually… like her now?” “No way? Have you forgotten what you used to tell me? You said you loved how lively and smart I was, and couldn’t stand her quiet personality, so stubborn and boring, like a block of wood…” Leo sharply gasped, sucking in a cold breath, and cut her off angrily: “Serena! What the hell are you talking about!” My body swayed, almost imperceptibly. Stubborn and boring. Like a block of wood. I looked at Leo; he looked at Serena, his eyes filled with shock, an attempt to silence her, but absolutely no… denial. Serena watched his desperate expression, her smile growing more triumphant and brazen, as if everything was going exactly as she planned. In that moment, standing at the doorway of the apartment I’d lived in for two years, facing my boyfriend and my half-sister, I felt like a complete and utter joke. I said nothing more. I just turned around, walked back into the bedroom, grabbed my suitcase, not even fully zipped, and silently, directly, headed for the front door. “Sweetheart!” “Sister?” Two voices rang out simultaneously, one frantic, the other feigning surprise with playful mockery. I didn’t look back, nor did I stop. I pushed past Leo, who was blocking the doorway, deliberately bumped into Serena, who was still watching the show, and dragging my suitcase, stepped into the elevator. The elevator doors slowly closed, shutting out Leo’s panicked shouts and Serena’s triumphant smirk. The mirrored elevator wall reflected my pale, numb face. How ridiculous, Maya. All these years I’d fought to escape, and it turns out, it had never truly left me.
Dragging my suitcase, I walked aimlessly down the street like a lost soul. My phone vibrated frantically in my pocket, Leo’s name flashing on the screen. I hung up, then blocked him. The world was so big, and I suddenly had no idea where to go. Go back to my parents’ house? That place held even more memories of Serena and my father’s favoritism. I couldn’t do it. Go to my best friend Chloe’s? How could I explain this utterly absurd situation to her? Tell her that the man I loved for two years treated me as a stand-in for the person I hated most? In the end, I just found a quick hotel that looked reasonably clean and checked in. Once I closed the door, shutting out all external noise, I finally allowed myself to collapse, leaning against the door, slowly sliding down to the cold floor. Tears finally welled up, late but unstoppable. Not loud sobs, but silent, desperate streams, soaking my shirt. The next few days passed in a daze. My phone was off, cutting me off from the outside world. I just slept, stared blankly, and mechanically ate a little to sustain myself. Until one morning, I rushed to the bathroom and dry heaved for ages, but nothing came up. This happened for several consecutive days. A terrifying thought suddenly pierced my mind. I stared at the two clear red lines slowly appearing, and all the strength instantly drained from me, and I slid down the wall to the floor. Pregnant. Just as I decided to leave Leo for good, just as my life had been shattered into a million pieces, this baby arrived. What a… cruel irony.
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