The Other Twin

CHAPTER TWO

NADIA'S POV

Three Years Ago

The first day I saw Elias Brooks again, it rained heavily. The type that threatened roofs and shattered glasses.

I sat down, looking over my journal, tracing the little details of my parents’ death for the hundredth time, when my mind drifted to him. Elias Brooks.

I was twenty-one, but I still had to consciously train myself not to think of the boy who once stood between me and the world after I lost my parents.

My coffee had gone cold. I rose and moved to the window, looking for any damage the rain might have caused when my phone rang.

It was Judith from the front desk.

Her voice was low.

“Nadia… someone’s here to see you, He says his name is Elias Brooks.”

My knees failed me. For a few nano seconds, the world went silent except for the sound of my heartbeat. Hope… was what I felt, but it was dangerous.

“I’ll… I’ll be right there,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

I walked down the corridor, telling myself it couldn’t be him. The Elias I remembered, stopped writing years ago. This had to be a joke.

But as I stepped outside, he stood there… soaked in rain, taller, broader, every inch a man now. Rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead, then those eyes… God, they looked at me like I was the only thing left in his universe.

“You came back,” I said, forcing strength into my words.

“I told you I would.” His voice was flat, but it still pierced through the wall I had built around my heart. That simple promise broke my walls.

The boy who had protected a lonely five-year-old had also kept his word.

I let every guard fall that I didn’t bother to ask the question burning inside me: “Why did the letters stop?”

The first months of our relationship before marriage was…void, I made myself believe the changes were natural. Thirteen years away from home would reshape anyone. He is quieter now, colder, he rarely smiles.

But I held onto the memory of the boy who once held my hand when the world felt too big. I told myself the warmth was still there, buried below time and hardship.

I told myself this every single day for three years.

Six months later, we married. I wore my mother’s earrings, the only piece of hers I had left, and walked down the aisle with a bright smile, toward the future I had memorised almost everyday since childhood.

I boldly said “Yes, I do,” my voice filled with joy.

Elias’s expression was cool, distant. His gaze passed my shoulder. “He was just nervous,” I told myself.

The first year passed slowly.

Silence stretched unnecessarily, harsh words landed without warnings. He looked at me with that empty expression when he thought no one was watching. Birthdays passed unnoticed, He never slept in our bed.

I noticed every c***k, but I made excuses.

“Marriage is an adjustment, He’s still that boy underneath.”

The second year, I met Seth.

She entered Elias' world like she belonged there, her presence reorganised the atmosphere.

I didn't like her at first, but I ignored the instinct that warned me.

I noticed the way Elias looked at her—with focus, ease. The way he had never looked at me. He gave her presence.

She received gifts, they shared meals, she came to our home uninvited . She crossed every line I had been too afraid to approach.

Still, I held on, telling myself their history from school was innocent. Afterall, he had married me.

By the third year, the pretense ended.

Their affection went into public view. From business trips to hotels, quiet dinners. They looked like lovers who had finally stopped hiding.

I told myself it was nothing. I was still his wife. He still loved me, somewhere deep down.

Then came that unfaithful Tuesday afternoon. I walked into our mansion and found them on the couch, lips pressed in a kiss, his hand in her lower back. They didn’t pull away immediately.

Elias’s eyes were filled with pure disgust. Seth smiled at me triumphantly.

I said nothing. I simply walked past them to my room, my heart beating with every step.

For six months I waited in silence, hoping he would come with an explanation, an apology, or make it feel like I misunderstood what I saw… just anything.

Instead, one Wednesday morning, he slid divorce papers across the breakfast table like he was showing me a casual photo.

“Sign it.” He said without taking his eyes from his phone.

I looked at the envelope for a while as a lump formed in my throat.

“E—Elias…”

He stood, wiped his mouth, and said coldly, “You should move out as well,” before walking away.

I didn’t sign immediately. I waited for the man I loved to return.

That evening, they forced the pen into my hand, and threw me out like trash.

I went back to beg.The first time Seth answered the door, she smashed the door to my face.

The second time the maid turned me away.

The third time, Elias finally appeared, his face was blank as if I were a stranger.

“You know you should stop coming here.”

The fourth time… it drizzled light, I barely remember walking there. I just found myself standing before him again, shaking.

“I told you not to come back,” he said.

“I…I know,” tears mixed with rain in my eyes.

“I just want to know what changed. Please, Elias… What happened to us?”

He slid his hands into his pockets, signaled a bodyguard, the only word I heard was “ger rid of her.” and I was pushed away… then the beating.

Present Day

“Dia.”

I froze.

He was the only one who had ever called me that. The private name my parents called me before they died. The name I had waited three years for my husband to say again.

The man sitting across from me now said it carefully, like a prayer he had never forgotten.

My head spun, questions coming in one after another with no answers.

Before I could speak, his voice came, low and steady.

“Your name was my signature in every one of our letters.”

Air left my lungs. I clutched the edge of my shirt.

“You… you stopped sending them?” I whispered.

He held my gaze without flinching.

“No,” he said. “I did not.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Then who did?" I whispered.

He did not answer immediately, he looked at me like he was about to say something heavy.

I watched his jaw tighten slightly, then he released.

"The man who stopped those letters," he said quietly, "is the same man you married for three years."

Some part of me had already known it since I woke up.

"He has known you," Elias continued, "before you knew who he was."

The air in the room changed.

"W… what does that mean?" I stammered.

He looked at me calmly.

"It means," he said, "you were never a coincidence, Dia…finding you was the plan."

The green line on my monitor jumped. So did I.