His Dead Wife’s Twin

“Our hearts don’t lie. It’s the things we try to hide deep inside them.” Elias Vaughn didn't even realize he had said the words out loud before they slipped out from his lips. It is the kind of truth that slips out when the world is quiet enough to hear your soul. Then the heart monitor let out a long, flat sound. One sharp note that didn’t end. The patient was gone. Elias didn’t move. His hands were still in the air, and his gloves were slick with sweat and blood, while his eyes locked on the lifeless body in front of him. No one said a word. The silence wasn’t just quiet, but it was loud, crushing and choking the room like smoke. It pressed down on their shoulders and their lungs. No one dared to breathe too loudly. No one dared to look at Elias. They had done everything. But it wasn’t enough. And now the failure was alive, sitting there with them and watching. His fingers shook only a little as he removed his gloves. "Death time," he said quietly, "Seventeen forty-three." Someone behind him wrote it down without saying a word. Just another body. Another name. Another goodbye. Elias turned away and left the operating room, the lights above him buzzing dimly like a swarm of bees trapped behind glass. Every time someone died at his hands, a picture kept returning. A picture of a broken glass and charred metal framing a ring that is still adhered to bone. It was more than just a picture; it was a sensation, a smouldering fire in his lungs, a searing sting of smoke in his eyes, and a chilly burden of powerlessness rooted in his stomach. That was how he had seen Serena once Or at least how he thought he had. He pushed through the double doors and stepped into the hospital hallway. He heard everything at once as nurses shouted orders, patients moaned, and phones rang. Life was moving loud and it didn't care. His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he approached the emergency wing. He didn’t come to this floor often. His sole purpose was to supervise the opening of a new surgical ward The one they were opening in his name. Dr. Elias Vaughn. His name was inscribed on each plaque. It was all part of the charity work, for the cameras, for the applause and the legacy The usual things that didn’t mean much After adjusting his cufflinks, he turned the corner and stopped. A woman in scrubs walked past a group of interns. She was holding a tablet in one hand and a pair of latex gloves in the other. Her voice was calm, firm, and steady as she spoke quickly to a young nurse who appeared to be having trouble keeping up. Then she raised her head. She was the one. “No…” he whispered, but it came out hoarse and broken. “It isn’t possible.” Her face remained motionless as she met his stare, blinking once and twice again. Her eyebrows pulled together a little, she looked confused but not scared, no flicker of recognition, no feelings, but just a small tilt of the head like she was trying to remember where she had seen him before. Then her eyes went back to the tablet in her hand like nothing had happened at all Instinctively, he moved forward. "Serena?" She squinted. "Pardon me?" With a clipped tone, she inquired. “ Do I know you ?" He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Not precisely the same, but slightly rougher, and softer like gravel under silk. However, her eyes and face were the same stormy gray color that had once gazed into his soul. Breathing heavily, he managed to say, "You look like someone I... knew." Her smile was clinical and aloof, but courteous. "I often understand that, I guess it's a common face. “No”, his mind screamed it even if his lips didn’t move. “her face wasn't anything but ordinary”. She turned away before he could reply, her shoes squeaking slightly as she disappeared around the corner, the hem of her scrubs fluttering behind her. He stood paralyzed as nurses and doctors rushed by him as though he were invisible. His heartbeat was audible to him. Serena had passed away. She had been buried by him; he saw the burned body himself, and they had verified it was her because of the ring. However... With his mind racing, he started going down the hall in the direction she had taken. She worked as a nurse in his medical facility. A living and breathing version of a ghost that tormented him each night. Once more, he located her using a patient chart at the nurse's station. She was composed, concentrated and alive. He took a step forward. "What's your name?" Angrily, she raised her head. "Mason Sierra." “Sierra, not Serena” The name slammed into him as the sharp edge in her voice made him blink. Trying to maintain his normal tone, he asked, "You work here as a nurse?" She raised an eyebrow. "Obviously." Being sarcastic hurts, but Serena never was. But her hands, her movements, even the freckle under her left eye, were all too accurate. After a moment, she felt his eyes on her and inquired, "Have we met before?” Elias said, "No," too hastily. "I simply... You make me think of a person I lost. Her eyes flickered, maybe with compassion, or she was just exercising caution. "I apologize," she said. Then, with a tablet in one arm, she turned and left once more. This time, he didn't follow. Slowly backing away and he turned down the side corridor and leaned against the wall with his heart thumping as if it were trying to burst through his chest. This wasn't sorrow. There was more to this. This was impossible. --- Breathing shallowly, Sierra gripped the edges of the break room sink with trembling fingers. The fluorescent light above flickered, making her reflection in the mirror tremble a little. She stared at herself Harder with stormy eyes and high cheekbones carved like marble. A face that looked too perfect to be real She had previously seen the man at hospital fundraisers and medical conferences from a distance, always. The legendary Dr. Elias Vaughn He is untouchable, cool, and detached. But he appeared broken up close. He hadn't looked at her with admiration. They were in mourning. She balled her fingers into fists. She had no idea who he had lost, but it wasn't her. He was someone she had never met. She was certain of it. Was she not? With trembling hands, she took out a bottle of water from her locker and unscrewed the cap. Her stomach growled but she didn’t feel hungry. Then, out of nowhere, a picture appeared behind her eyes. Fire. The scream of a woman. A hand extending through shattered glass. Her breath caught, and she was feeling lightheaded, so she leaned over and gripped the locker's edge. No. Never again. She occasionally experienced these flashes. Small pieces of something hidden deep inside, but she was unable to identify the shadows. She had been informed that she was found alone with injuries and with a memory. Sierra was the name they had given her. She had agreed to it. However, now... Now, a stranger with eyes that seemed to have witnessed her death was calling her Serena. --- Elias returned to the executive lounge and gazed at her file on the screen. Sierra Mason. DOB: not specified. Six years ago, after being discovered lost on the side of the road, he was admitted to St. Joseph Shelter. No family is known. And no records before. Serena passed away in the same year. The fingerprints did not match. Not a single dental record. No identification. A ghost with a fresh start. The pieces were starting to fit like they were pulled together by grief. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he reclined in the chair. He couldn’t talk about this yet Not without proof. He accessed Serena's last known medical records, including her DNA profile, by opening a new tab. Then revealed Sierra's most recent blood work from the hospital was revealed. He paused. The following actions would be considered a breach of privacy. He didn't care, though. He must have known. He conducted the test. He stood and moved toward the large window that looked out over the city while the system processed it. The glass buildings were covered in long shadows as the sun began to set. His cell rang. He picked it up and looked at the screen. Lila sent a message. Dinner at eight o'clock. Avoid being late. There will be press soon. Put on the new tie. We need to look like a real couple. He gazed at it, feeling queasy all of a sudden. The dinner had slipped his mind. He forgot about the fake smiles. The perfect couple act. He had a bride-to-be waiting. Additionally, the woman he believed he had lost simply passed him in blue scrubs without knowing his name. --- Sierra waited in the corridor outside the elevator, leaning against the chilly steel. Two guests left in whispers as the elevator doors opened. "Is she there?" One said, gesturing toward her. "The one who resembles the deceased wife?" Sierra stopped. She was nudged by the other woman. "Shhh. It's merely rumors and most likely nothing”. They laughed and brushed past her. Her hands shaking, she entered the elevator. She didn't push any buttons. She remained motionless. The doors shut. It was silent inside. Too silent. Unaware that she was holding her breath, she released it. Then she muttered the name to herself. "Serena..." She was also unsure of the reason. But when she said it, a small c***k appeared in her heart.