MATED TO MY TWIN'S MATE

I...I KNOW YOU

(A YEAR LATER)

She fixed her eyes on the mirror and watched her reflection stare back at her. Her eyes traced the contours of her face, the curve of her lips, and the strands of hair framing her face. Yet, in the depth of those eyes, there was a sense of disconnection. A void.

She was aware that a chunk of her life was missing, but was very curious to know what it was. The more she reached into the recesses of her memory, the more everything seemed to pull her into an abyss of nothing but blackness.

Her fingertips traced over the burn scar on the left side of her face. She had sustained the burns while she was at a hospital, although she couldn't remember how she got there in the first place.

She had no memories about her past.

All she remembered was being stirred up from a burning dream with the strong smell of thick smoke choking her nostrils and sneaking its way into her consciousness. When her eyelids had parted open, she saw fierce flames dancing around her and licking at the walls like angry spirits.

She had woken up to a burning room.

The initial shock glued her to the bed and left her no time to run before a part of the burning ceiling sliced open and crashed down over her, scalding her face.

She escaped for her life and cried for help, in pains and bleeding from her scalds. But everyone else was busy trying to save themselves too. She had managed to get out of the building and was later found by a good Samaritan who took her in and treated the severe burns she'd sustained. Even when she healed quickly from her injuries, that black scar on her face remained, like a curse.

She knew that the face behind that scar was a huge part of her missing life. She needed to get her original face back as her first step to remembering who she used to be and find her family if she had one.

She'd heard that getting her original face back was possible with plastic surgery.

This was why she was determined to get a job, to save up enough money for her surgery, even if it took her years to accomplish it.

When someone walked into the bathroom, she quickly pulled the face cover on and sighed, then turned on the tap to wash her hands. There were a lot of new faces around her, both men and women, even children.

She was truly intimidated by everything. It was her first time since she could remember, coming out to a place filled with so many people. She'd lived the last fourteen months with her foster mother, the widow who'd taken her in since the day she escaped from the fire.

With her fingers clenching firmly around the strap of her handbag, she looked around for the office she'd been directed to, before she had made a quick visit to the bathroom.

She walked into the first one her gut told her to. There were about a dozen people seated there, as though waiting for something to happen.

“Excuse me?” She called politely, cautiously putting her hand over her mask, “Is this the waiting room for applicants?”

One of them nodded affirmatively.

“Oh thank you,” she chuckled in relief and went to take a seat next to the person.

She got a few more stares than needed from others, obviously because of her ugly face. It bothered her, but it wasn't like she had any other choice. This Sports Agency was the only company, of all the hundreds she'd applied to, that gave her an invitation.

Those seated were called in one after the other until she was the only one left. She was nervous and her eyes would dart aimlessly around the room every five seconds. She incessantly tapped her cold fingers against her thigh.

“Miss Elara Johnson?”

Her head snapped up immediately, “Yes that's me,” she answered and got up.

Elara was her new name and her adoptive mother's last name was Johnson. Hence, Elara Johnson.

Elara adjusted the mask over her nose, pulled down a few flying strands of her short hair and heaved a heavy breath before following the young man into the room where a stern looking woman sat behind the desk.

“Hi. Good day,” Elara greeted.

The woman's gaze flickered for a second as she registered the unsual face and the unconventional choice of a face mask alongside it.

Elara noticed this and immediately said, "I hope it's alright that I wear a mask. It's just a personal preference," she explained, her eyes meeting the interviewer's.

"Of course. Have your seat.."

Elara sat in the chair, her palms slightly clammy. Across the polished table, the interviewer began scrutinizing her resume, whilst she waited in silence.

"I see that you don't even meet the basic qualifications for this position. Are you sure you received an invitation from us for an interview?"

Elara knew she should have figured out the invitation was too good to be true. She only had a middle school qualification, which infact wasn't hers. It belonged to Elara Johnson, the dead daughter of her foster mother, whose name she now bore.

Elara swallowed hard. “I did get the invitation.”

With her sweaty palms, she fumbled for her phone and pulled up the invitation email.

"I got this email,” she showed it to the woman.

The interviewer studied the email, a moment of contemplation passing over her eyebrows. "Well, that's an oversight on our part. I apologize for any confusion."

The admission felt like a verdict. Elara's heart sank.

"Currently, there are no openings for someone with your qualifications. It's a competitive field, and we look for specific skill sets."

The room seemed to close in on Elara, and a knot tightened in her stomach.

"Please, I'll do anything. Absolutely any work you tell me to do, I don't mind. I'm a quick learner. I just need a chance."

There was another pause.

"We'll keep your application on file, and if an opportunity arises, we'll get back to you," the interviewer offered.

Elara nodded, although disappointed. “Thank you. I'll be expecting,” she said and walked out of the office.

Elara stepped out of the waiting room and shut the door behind her as though sealing another unfulfilled chapter of her life. She knew that there was definitely no “getting back to her”. That was the end already.

She continued into the hallway with her gaze hung low and not noticing the person coming towards her until she bumped her head into them.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, cradling her head.

“I'm so sorry—”

Elara's attempt at an apology froze as soon as her eyes met those of the tall man standing in front of her, whom she'd just walked into.

Something stirred in her mind; a peculiar recognition coming alive in her consciousness, like a distant memory trying to surface, but all she could see was a pit of black.

His eyes were deep and searching, staring straight into hers.

"I... I know you," she blurted out.