A Night With My Boyfriend's Twin Brother

“Why on earth did you buy something like this?” Steve shouted at me as I turned around to show him the red gown I had purchased for his parents’ anniversary. Those were not the words I had expected. I had hoped for a compliment, but instead, his words pierced my heart. I continued to stare at him as he went on, “Is it because I didn’t accompany you to the boutique? Is that why you chose something like this? Did you buy it yourself, or did some young man at the boutique buy it for you?” His words hit me hard, and it changed the expression on my face. “Why are you saying things like this? I bought it myself,” I blurted out, my hands instinctively spreading wide. He was dead serious as he added, “Did you think I would allow you to show off your figure to other men at my parents’ anniversary? Be honest, did you buy this gown to attract attention at the party? This is the kind of outfit that w****s wear in public places to draw the attention of men.” “What?” I shouted, taking a few steps back. This was Steve, my boyfriend, sitting in a wheelchair. Just a few weeks ago, nobody would have imagined him moving around his house with a broken leg. It was still unbelievable that he had suddenly engaged in rigorous exercises to strengthen his muscles just two weeks before his parents’ anniversary, and at the process broke his right leg. “You seize any opportunity you get to reveal your true colors,” he said with a painful remark. He hadn’t changed, I thought to myself. I wouldn’t have come here to help him, but this was the most crucial time for him, given his broken leg. I knew he had done a lot for me, especially financially supporting my mother’s extensive medical bills. But I couldn’t go on like this. I paused, deep in thought. About four weeks ago, he surprised me by coming to my workplace with my lunch. As I was finishing up my sales, he saw a customer exchanging pleasantries with me. Suddenly, Steve shouted at me, accusing me of cheating on him, just as the man’s wife emerged from the restroom. He even claimed that I wanted to give my number to the man. It was incredibly embarrassing, especially in front of other customers who were waiting to pay, as well as my colleagues. I nearly lost my job because our managing director happened to be present. Thankfully, my manager intervened and took me away from the cash desk to defuse the situation. It was then that I realized we needed more space in our relationship, and if it wasn’t for his injury, I wouldn’t have come to his house. This wasn’t the first time he accused me of cheating whenever other guys turned to look at me. He would claim that I purposely flaunted myself to catch their attention. We would argue for a short while, but I always found a reason to come back, just like now when he needed assistance. When I asked him why he suddenly started going to the gym, his explanation seemed absurd to me. He said it was because his twin brother was visiting. I couldn’t see the connection between the two. Moreover, I hadn’t even met his brother throughout our thirteen-month relationship. According to him, his twin brother lived in London, and both of them would be going to their parents’ place tomorrow morning. I despised Steve’s behavior and couldn’t tolerate his jealousy any longer. Each time it happened, I would forgive him and fall back into his arms. But now, I have reached my limit. If wearing this red gown would break our relationship, so be it. Enough was enough. “You will not wear this gown at the party. You better pull it and give it to me and I will set it on fire.” “Fire?” I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “I’m willing to pay you double the amount you spent on the gown,” he added. “It would be better for me not to go to the party with you than to see this gown set on fire.” I believed that after he promised and genuinely apologized for his actions at my workplace, I had regained my freedom to buy whatever I pleased. But just a few days later, he had made up his mind to either burn my gown or forbid me from wearing it. He quickly maneuvered his wheelchair towards me, determined to drag the gown on me. But I swiftly moved out of his reach, and I could see the pain in his eyes. If he wasn’t confined to a wheelchair, I felt he might have resorted to violence before taking the gown from me. It was the first time I had challenged him to such an extent. For once, he was powerless, and I held a newfound sense of power. If not for his disability, he might have strangled me, I suppose. The agony in his eyes was visible. “Are you doing this to me just because I can’t move freely?” Those words, filled with anger, and these were the sweetest I had ever heard from him. I wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain he had inflicted on me, all in the name of love. “This is the dress I want to wear. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” “Are you challenging me? Are you shouting at me? When did you start this?” His face displayed annoyance and concern. “Why am I even here in the first place?” I exclaimed. I pulled off the gown and began packing the few belongings I had brought. I was ready to leave. Steve couldn’t believe what he was witnessing at first. “Are you leaving me?” “That’s enough. I’m going home. You just called me a whore.” “I didn’t call you a w***e, but wearing this gown gives off that impression. Don’t twist my words,” he finally lowered his voice, realizing that he needed my presence due to his condition. I couldn’t bear it at that moment. I grabbed my bag, slammed the door, and left. As I walked out of his house, I let out a heavy sigh. I didn’t know what had come over me, but I felt a sense of relief as I distanced myself from his grasp. His good looks and tall stature were not worth all this trouble. That’s what initially attracted me to him. I thought I was the luckiest woman when he first showed interest in me. Despite my slightly overweight figure at the time we met, he made me feel like the queen of his world. I decided to work on my body, hoping to make him even prouder of me. My dedication paid off, and I achieved the shape I have today, which he was thrilled about. He would take me shopping on numerous occasions, proudly introducing me to his friends and encouraging me to visit his workplace, all with the intention of showing me off and showering me with compliments. I mistook this for affection, but over time, his words and actions became invisible chains that bound me to him. He had become an addiction for me. Every time I grew tired and wanted to give him some space, something mysterious or unique would happen, pulling us back together again. I became addicted to his methods of winning me back, convincing myself that he was what I needed and deserved the most. I noticed this pattern six months ago, and I knew it wasn’t healthy. But I thought that as the relationship progressed, things would improve, or I would find a way to reshape the relationship according to my desires. I never shared his negative side with my close friends, who only saw the glamorous aspects of our relationship. Deep down, I was trying to find my own footing. It was 11 AM, and my entire weekend had just been turned upside down over a choice of outfit. I stopped a blue taxi, my face filled with anger, as I got into the back seat. A few minutes later, my phone started ringing. I knew right away that it was Steve calling, but I refused to answer. Seconds later, my phone rang again. The driver, a man in his early forties, glanced at me through the rearview mirror, but my expression prevented him from saying anything. After four unanswered calls, the ringing stopped, and there was silence in the car for a few minutes. Then, I received a text message notification. At first, I didn’t want to read it. I had made up my mind to take a long break from Steve, or even end our relationship if possible. I was so determined not to go back, but eventually, curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to open the text message. “Hi Laura! This is the worst time in my life for us to have this misunderstanding. You know about my current health condition, which prevents me from helping myself. My twin brother is arriving in the country later today, and we had agreed that you and I would go and pick him up from the airport. You know I can’t drive because of my broken leg. Who do you expect to pick him up for me? You can wear whatever you want. Please come back. Not just for me, but for the sake of my twin brother who is coming. I need someone to take me to the airport and welcome him. Remember how I helped with your mum’s medical bills, how I almost emptied my bank account. Are you leaving me stranded at home?” After reading this message, my brain froze for a few seconds. What should I do? Should I ask the driver to turn around and go back? I never expected him to send such a conflicting message.