THE DOUBLE

AURORA “Mrs. Hale!” voices yelled from the crowd in front of me. “Please turn to the left!” “Turn to the right!” “Give us a big smile!” Despite being dizzy from the constant lighting from the camera, I maintained a very wide smile, waving and posing for the camera. “Pull her closer Mr. Laurent!” one of the paparazzi yelled at my husband who only chuckled and did as told, pulling me closer to his side, making me feel instantly safe. Yes, I know you must be wondering why he goes by the last name Laurent, and I go by the name Hale. I’ll answer that. My father Victor Hale had insisted I keep my last name after the marriage. That was his only condition to let me marry Damien, who wasn’t exactly in the same social status with us then, and Damien, being so crazily in love with me, saw no need to object, so here we are, sharing the same name only on marriage certificate, but on legal documents, my name remains Hale, and I guess that stuck with the press too. “Are you okay?” Damien’s soft voice and breath on my face pulled me back to reality. I blinked rapidly and nodded at him, trying hard not to think about the pulsing behind my eyes. “I’m fine.” His eyes roamed my face and he shook his head. “You’re not fine. Let’s get you inside.” Hand still on my waist, he led me into the event hall, and straight to our table. The server walked past us with a tray of champagne, and I stopped him to pick a glass, but Damien shook his head. “A glass of water would be better. You haven’t been feeling fine lately.” He snapped his finger at the other server who quickly hurried over with a glass of water. “You should see the doctor again.” My nose crinkled as I took a sip. “I did see him last month, and he said I was fine.” Reaching for my hand on the table, Damien squeezed it gently. “I can’t help but worry Aurora. The headaches, the dizziness, the constant throwing up_” “It's all stress,” I interjected. “Thomas already told you that. He is your best friend and also our family doctor, he won’t lie to you.” “But_” “Can we not talk about this here?” I interrupted again. “We are here to donate to the orphanage kids; let's do that and stop worrying over my health.” Clicking his tongue, he nodded and leaned into his chair. “Please, for the sake of my sanity, tell me if something feels wrong.” “I will.” The evening progressed as usual until my alarm reminded me I was supposed to make an important business call. Excusing myself from the women who kept cooing on how perfect Damien and my marriage are, I walked out of the hall and into the gardens. It wasn’t until I was far from the noise that I stopped walking. Standing in the middle of beautiful plants and flowers, I stared blankly at them, wondering why I had left the hall in the first place. Slowly, I glanced down at my phone, then to my purse, but still couldn’t remember why I had walked out here. My fingers trembled, the throbbing behind my eyes becoming even more painful the more I tried to remember. With a sigh, I walked over to the bench and sat down, cradling my head. Forgetting things I wanted to do isn’t something new to me. It is something that has been happening for six months now, and though Thomas assured me that I am fine, just super stressed, I wish this could actually stop. “Babe?” I turned to the left, my lips stretching into a smile when I saw Damien approaching. “What are you doing out here alone?” he whispered, taking a seat next to me, his other hand absently dropping the bottle of water in his hand to the other side of the bench. “I have been searching for you inside.” Exhaling heavily, I stared down at my dress. “I knew I came out here to do something important, but I can’t seem to remember it anymore.” Blinking closely to keep the tears suddenly forming in my eyes away, I turned to Damien. “You think there is something wrong with me?” Damien shook his head, his hand moving up to my cup my face and I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing involuntarily. “Stress,” he whispered, “you are just stressed.” Yeah, work is stressful, but I need to be there. “Maybe we should finally take that vacation we have been planning for years now.” Damien mused, pulling me from my thoughts again. “I think it is overdue.” Opening my eyes, I chuckled and moved my chin away from his hold. “I think you are right, it is long overdue.” He snickered too. “Well, that’s by the way.” He reached for the water beside him and passed me the bottle. “It is time for your drugs. Should help you feel better.” Accepting the bottle from him, I watched him dip his hand into his breast pocket and retrieve a small transparent daily dose pack. “You think that is actually working?” I have been taking that for almost a year now, and I don’t seem to be getting any better. If anything, I think I am getting a bit worse… for example, this forgetfulness. It was never there before. If the board finds out that I am suddenly forgetting things, it will be a huge mess for me, and if the public finds out, it will be a huge mess for the company. “You don’t think it’s working anymore?” Anymore? I don’t think it ever worked. “Yes.” “Which is why we should see Thomas.” He suggested. “Let him get you checked out again. Or we seek a second opinion. Damien never agreed to this… though I understand his reasons. Thomas may be bound by both oath and contract not to reveal my medical file to the press, but he is also my husband’s best friend, and I am sure he won’t snitch, but I can’t say the same for other doctors out there. “We're meeting with Thomas tomorrow,” Damien stated pointedly. “There is no arguing it.” Forcing a smile, I nodded, accepted the pill, gulped it down, and stood to my feet. “I am tired, maybe we should call it a night and head home.” “Are you feeling drowsy?” I nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yes.” “I really can’t leave yet.” He mumbled and my head tilted in question. “Mr. Rabith wanted to have a meeting with me later.” Oh… “What’s your deal with him?” They seem to be having too many meetings these days. Damien shrugged. “There is this company I am trying to invest in, but at the same time trying to be careful. Rabith is helping me out.” My brows furrowed. “You should have come to me. I would have helped.” “You are already stressed as it is.” He argued, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll have Jet drive you home.” “It’s fine.” I dismissed the offer. “I’d rather Ryder drive me home.” I am more comfortable with him than the new security guards Damien hired, besides, I also have something important to discuss with Ryder that I don’t want Damien overhearing. He nodded. “Sure.” He helped me all the way to the car, kissed me goodbye, then closed the door after warning Ryder to drive carefully. “Did you find her?” I asked Ryder the moment the car rolled out of the driveway. “Yes, I found your mother,” he replied, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror. My father told me my mother died during childbirth and I believed him until recently when I learnt she is very much alive and was involved in a messy divorce with my father in the past. Bless his soul, but I really wish he were still alive so he could look me in the eye and tell me why he lied to me. “And?” I prompted. “What is her address?” “I don’t think that is necessary.” He mumbled, shifting slightly in his seat. “She’s already dead.” My hand tightened into a fist. “How? Why? When?” I wasn’t sure what I was feeling at the moment, but it sure wasn’t grief. I can’t grieve someone I do not know. “Five years ago,” Ryder answered. “Cancer.” I scoffed. “And she didn’t think it right to find me, or at least see me one time before she crossed the bar?” Ryder glanced at me through the mirror again. “There is something else you need to know.” I arched a brow. “Which is?” “You have a sister.” I froze, my eyes batting rapidly. “I beg your pardon?” What is this? Exchange of siblings? “Did my father know?” Ryder nodded. “He did know.” Chuckling bitterly, I leaned into the seat and looked out the window. “How old is she?” Ryder exhaled heavily. “She is the same age as you.” My eyes snapped back to him. “What are you trying to say?” “She is your twin,” Ryder muttered, his hand reaching for his breast pocket. “An identical twin.” My mouth dropped open, I was still trying to process his words when he passed me a picture. Slowly reaching for it, my fingers wrapped around the picture as I turned it around and stared at a replica of myself.