Updated Feb 20, 2026 • ~5 min read
LUCIA
This was insane. I was sitting across from Westley Archer at a wine bar in Capitol Hill and he thought I was Carmen. He thought I was my sister. And I hadn’t corrected him.
“So what have you been doing?” West asked. “These past five years. Where did you go?”
I took a sip of my wine to buy time. Think, Lucia. Think.
“I needed space,” I said carefully. “Time to figure myself out.” It wasn’t a lie. Carmen probably did need that, even if I didn’t know the real reason she left.
West nodded slowly. “I get that. I mean—I didn’t get it then. But now? Maybe I understand.” His eyes were so earnest, so full of hope. I felt sick.
“Tell me about you,” I said quickly, deflecting. “What have you been up to?”
He laughed. “Honestly? Mostly working. Threw myself into my career after…” He trailed off. “After you left.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. And I was—for Carmen, for what she did to him, for what I was doing to him now.
WESTLEY
She kept apologizing. Every few minutes, like she couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry.” “I’m so sorry, West.” “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
It was breaking my heart. Because I didn’t want her to be sorry. I just wanted her to stay. I wanted this chance. I wanted to believe we could fix what broke between us.
“Stop apologizing,” I said gently. “Let’s just… start over. Okay?”
She looked at me with those dark eyes and I swear I saw tears forming. “Start over?”
“Yeah. Like we’re meeting for the first time.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“Why not?”
“Because you remember everything. All the history. All the hurt.” She was right, but I didn’t care.
“Then we’ll make new memories,” I said. “Better ones.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then she smiled. And it was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in five years.
LUCIA
He was perfect. That was the problem. Westley was funny and kind and thoughtful and everything I would want in a man if I wasn’t pretending to be someone else.
We talked for two hours. About architecture. About coffee. About stupid movies we’ve watched lately. He told me about a project he’s working on—a community center in Beacon Hill. I told him about my writing, the novel I’m working on.
Wait. Carmen doesn’t write. I do.
“You write?” West said, surprised.
Shit. “I… started recently. It’s new.”
“That’s amazing. What kind of stuff?”
“Romance mostly. It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly. That’s really cool, Carmen.”
Every time he said her name I flinched inside. Carmen. He thinks I’m Carmen. And I’m falling for him while wearing her face.
WESTLEY
When I walked her back to her apartment, I didn’t want the night to end. She lived in a small studio in Fremont. It was cute—very her. Except… it’s not really her, is it?
The Carmen I knew lived in a sleek downtown loft with minimalist furniture, all white and chrome. This place had plants everywhere, books stacked on the floor, a cozy blanket draped over the couch. It felt lived-in. Warm. Maybe she changed.
“This is me,” she said, stopping at her door. We stood there awkwardly. I wanted to kiss her. God, I wanted to kiss her so badly.
“Can I see you again?” I asked.
She hesitated. For a second I thought she was going to say no. Then she nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
I smiled. “Tomorrow?”
“West—”
“Too soon?”
“No. I just…” She looked conflicted. “Yeah. Tomorrow is fine.”
I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She froze.
“I missed you, Carmen. So much.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I missed you too,” she whispered.
And then she turned and disappeared inside.
LUCIA
I closed the door and slid down to the floor. What was I doing? What the hell was I doing?
My phone buzzed.
Paloma: How did it go??
Me: I’m in so much trouble.
Paloma: You told him the truth?
Me: No.
Paloma: LUCIA.
Me: I know. I know. I’m the worst person alive.
Paloma: You need to tell him before this gets worse.
But I didn’t want to. Because for the first time in my life, someone was looking at me like I matter. Like I’m the one worth finding. Even if he thinks I’m someone else.
I put my phone down and pressed my hands to my face. Tomorrow I’ll tell him. Tomorrow I’ll fix this. Tomorrow.
But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. Because I was already in too deep, and I didn’t know how to get out.
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