I'm not Her

They say everything happens for a reason. I used to think that was just a way for people to make sense of their messes. But that night, when my sister begged me to cover for her messed up decision in life-to pretend to be her on a date with some stranger... I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was true. That everything happens for a reason. It should've been easy. A single night, a quick dinner, and I'd be done with it. So I did what my sister Amira said, sat across from a woman I'd never expect to met. Sachzna Valeri Heimsworth. I remember her deep blue eyes, her gentle laugh, the way she'd lean forward like she was trying to draw something out of me. And maybe it was the way she looked at me—or who she thought I was—that made it hard for me to admit the truth. In the end, I didn't have to. I left, told her it wouldn't work, that maybe she deserved better. I walked away, convinced I'd done the right thing... for her, for my sister. I told myself it was over. Just one night, a memory to bury. But as the months passed, I'd think about her sometimes, the way she looked when I left, hurt but too strong to show it. I tried to push it aside; I wasn't going to see her again, right? Until my first day of college. When my literature professor walked in, and I felt my heart drop like a stone. It was her. Sachzna. Only now, it was Ms. Heimsworth. The look on her face when she saw me said everything. Anger. Hurt. She recognized me in an instant, and I could almost feel her plotting a dozen ways to ruin my life. I get it. She thinks I played her, and the worst part is, I can't even blame her for it. But she's got it all wrong. I did this for my sister, and now I'm the one taking the fall. No one knows the truth except me. And now, every interaction, every glance she throws my way is a reminder that my life in college won't be easy with her around. Ms. Heimsworth, with that cold, unreadable expression, is just waiting for me to mess up. I can feel it. She'll make sure I fail, even if it means dragging me down with her. I need to find a way to tell her the truth. To tell her I'm not her. ----------- You're so fine I want you mine You're so delicious I think about you all the time You're so addictive Don't you know what I can do to make you feel alright (alright, alright, alright, alright)? Don't pretend. I think you know I'm damn precious And—hell, yeah!— I'm the motherfucking princess I can tell you like me too, and you know I'm right (I'm right, I'm right, I'm right, I'm right) The music thumped through my ears, blasting loud enough to drown out the whole world. I max the volume of the music in my earpods, enjoying the music. I couldn't help but tap my fingers along with the beat, my mind totally lost in the words of my romance novel. I turn to the next page. I rested my back against the headboard, my legs stretched out, the world felt small, contained in just this song and this story. No drama, no worries. Just me, the music, and two characters falling in love on the page. She's like so whatever You could do so much better I think we should get together now And that's what everyone's talking about! Hey! Hey! You! You! I don't like your girlfriend! No way! No way! I think you need a new one Hey! Hey! You! You! I could be your girlfriend Then, a loud knock. Knock, knock. I ignored it at first, thinking it was just the house creaking. But then another knock, more urgent. Knock, knock, knock. Bwesit. Sighing, I took my earphones off, letting the silence rush in. I placed the book on the bed and stood up, rubbing my eyes as I went to the door. When I opened it, I found Dad standing there, looking tired and worried, with lines on his forehead deeper than usual. "Sweety," he started, his voice soft, almost apologetic. "Sorry for disturbing you this late, but... I'm worried about your twin." He ran a hand over his face, sighing. "She said she'd be at some group study, but... this late? Amira still isn't home. I tried calling her, but she's not answering. I don't know where on earth your sister is! Damn it! Can you call her friends? Or text her." I looked at him, and then at the time on my phone. 10:45 p.m. Way past her so-called "group study" hours. I rolled my eyes and let out a deep sigh. "I'll fetch her. I know where she is." My voice came out calm, almost bored. I'd done this too many times. Dad's shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath. "Thanks, Mari," he whispered, stepping forward to hug me. His arms wrapped around me briefly, and I gave him a gentle pat on the back. He nodded, seeming reassured, and gestured down the hall toward his office. I knew he had papers to grade, essays to read. He wasn't going to be getting much sleep either.