Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 4: The Obsession
EVERETT
She’s wearing his shirt.
I watch from the hallway as Sloane comes downstairs, drowning in one of Ethan’s old college t-shirts.
My t-shirt, technically.
We bought matching ones freshman year.
Everything we owned was identical back then.
Until Ethan got that fucking tattoo.
Ruined the perfect mirror.
Made himself “different.”
Like he needed to prove he was his own person.
Like being my twin wasn’t enough.
Sloane doesn’t see me watching.
She never does.
She goes to the kitchen. Makes coffee. Stands by the window, lost in thought.
She’s beautiful.
More beautiful than I remembered.
Auburn curls catching the morning light. Those light brown eyes. That curve of her neck.
Mine.
She should’ve been mine.
Three years ago.
That’s when I met her.
Not Ethan.
Me.
I was on leave, back home for two weeks before deployment.
Went to a bar. Saw her across the room.
Confident. Laughing with friends. Architecture student, I’d later learn.
I bought her a drink.
We talked for hours.
She was funny. Smart. Real.
At the end of the night, I asked for her number.
She gave it to me.
“I’m deploying soon,” I told her. “But when I get back, I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
We kissed.
Just once.
Soft. Sweet. Promise of more to come.
I left thinking about her for months.
But then I made a mistake.
I told Ethan about her.
Showed him her picture.
“She’s gorgeous,” he said. “You should call her when you’re back.”
“I will.”
But two months into deployment, Ethan texted me.
A photo.
Him and Sloane. At a restaurant.
“Ran into your girl at a coffee shop,” the text said. “She thought I was you. Took her to lunch to explain. Hope you don’t mind.”
I minded.
But I was eight thousand miles away.
What could I do?
More photos came.
Ethan and Sloane at a park.
At a museum.
At the beach.
“She’s really cool,” he texted. “We’ve been hanging out. As friends. Don’t worry.”
But they weren’t friends.
I could see it in the photos.
The way she looked at him.
The way he looked at her.
She thought he was me.
Or maybe she didn’t.
Maybe she didn’t care.
Maybe she liked Ethan better.
The stable twin. The safe choice.
The one who wasn’t leaving for war.
By the time I got home for the wedding—two years later—they were engaged.
“I’m sorry, man,” Ethan said. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. But we fell in love. I couldn’t not ask her.”
“It’s fine,” I lied. “I’m happy for you.”
Sloane was apologetic.
“I thought you were just a one-night thing,” she said. “A fun kiss with a guy at a bar. I didn’t know… I didn’t realize it was serious for you.”
It wasn’t serious for me.
It was everything.
But I smiled.
Shook Ethan’s hand.
Gave a speech at the wedding.
Went back overseas.
Spent two more years hating my brother.
And loving his wife.
Now I’m here.
In their house.
Watching her live the life that should’ve been mine.
“Morning.”
Sloane jumps.
Turns.
Sees me in the doorway.
“God, you scared me.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up.”
“It’s fine. Want coffee?”
“Sure.”
She pours me a cup.
Hands it to me.
Our fingers brush.
She pulls back quickly.
Good.
She should be nervous around me.
Should question everything.
“Sleep okay?” I ask.
“Fine. You?”
“Great. That guest bed is comfortable.”
Lie.
I didn’t sleep in the guest bed last night.
But she doesn’t need to know that.
Later, when she’s gone to work and Ethan’s in the shower, I go to their bedroom.
Stand in the doorway.
Taking it in.
Their bed. Their life. Their everything.
I walk to her side of the bed.
Pick up her pillow.
Breathe in.
Lavender and vanilla.
Her scent.
I’ve imagined this for three years.
Being in this room.
In this life.
With her.
The bathroom door opens.
Ethan steps out. Towel around his waist.
Sees me holding Sloane’s pillow.
Freezes.
“What are you doing?”
I set it down.
“Nothing. Just looking around. Nice room.”
“Ev—”
“Relax. I’m not going to steal your wife.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“About?”
“Boundaries. You can stay here, but you need to respect my marriage.”
“I do respect it.”
“Then why are you in my bedroom? Going through Sloane’s things?”
“I wasn’t going through anything. I was just—”
“Just what?”
I look at him.
My identical twin.
Same face. Same voice. Same everything.
Except he has the life I want.
“I met her first,” I say quietly.
“What?”
“Sloane. Three years ago. At that bar. Before deployment. I met her. I kissed her. I was going to date her when I got back.”
“I know. You told me. And I’m sorry, but—”
“You stole her.”
“I didn’t steal anyone. She chose me.”
“Because she thought you were me.”
“At first, maybe. But she fell in love with me. Ethan. Not Everett.”
“How do you know?”
“What?”
“How do you know she fell in love with you? She can’t tell us apart. No one can. For all you know, she’s in love with the idea of us. The twin. The face. Not you specifically.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it? Have you ever asked her? What makes you different from me?”
Ethan stares.
“The tattoo,” he finally says.
“A tattoo she only sees when you’re naked. But in the dark? In bed? When she can’t see it? How does she know it’s you?”
“She knows.”
“Does she? Because I don’t think she does.”
Ethan steps closer.
Anger in his eyes.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe you should ask yourself why she’s been so paranoid lately. Why she keeps checking your tattoo. Why she seems scared.”
“Because you’re making her uncomfortable—”
“Or because she’s realizing she can’t actually tell us apart. And that terrifies her. Because what if she’s been kissing the wrong twin? Fucking the wrong twin?”
Ethan’s fist connects with my jaw before I can dodge.
Pain explodes.
I stumble back.
Touch my lip.
Blood.
“Get out,” Ethan says, voice shaking. “Pack your shit and get out of my house.”
I smile through the blood.
“Can’t. Where would I go? I’m broke. Homeless. You said I could stay.”
“That was before—”
“Before what? Before you realized I still want her? I’ve always wanted her, Ethan. You knew that.”
“Wanting and touching are different—”
“Are they?”
His face goes white.
“You didn’t.”
I don’t answer.
Let him wonder.
Let him spiral.
“Everett. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Touch her. Impersonate me. Switch places.”
“Would she even know if I did?”
“You sick fuck—”
“I’m sick? You stole my girl and married her. That’s not sick?”
“She was never your girl!”
“She kissed me first!”
We’re shouting now.
Faces inches apart.
Mirror images of rage.
“Get. Out,” Ethan says slowly. “Now. Or I call the cops.”
“And tell them what? That your identical twin might’ve kissed your wife? Good luck proving it.”
His fist comes up again.
But this time I block it.
Grab his wrist.
“We both know you won’t kick me out,” I say quietly. “Because if you do, you’ll have to tell Sloane why. And then she’ll know I’ve been in your bed. Wearing your cologne. Touching her the way you do.”
“You haven’t—”
“Haven’t I?”
I let go of his wrist.
Step back.
“Think about it, brother. Has she seemed satisfied lately? Has she been responding to you the same way? Or has she seemed… confused?”
Ethan’s breathing hard.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
I walk to the door.
Turn back.
“The tattoo was smart. Really. Good way to differentiate. But temporary tattoos exist, you know. And in the dark? She’d never see the difference.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m fucking your wife.”
I leave before he can hit me again.
Go to the guest room.
Lock the door.
Sit on the bed.
Smiling.
I haven’t actually touched her.
Not yet.
But I could.
And that’s what matters.
The knowledge that I could walk into that bedroom tonight, slide into bed next to her, and she’d never know I wasn’t Ethan.
The power of that.
The possibility.
It’s intoxicating.
I pull out my phone.
Open my photos.
Scroll to the album labeled “S.”
Pictures of Sloane.
From her social media. From Ethan’s phone when he’s not looking.
From the cameras I installed in this house three days ago.
Yes, cameras.
In the bedroom. The bathroom. The kitchen.
I want to see everything.
Know everything.
Learn her.
So when I do replace Ethan—when I finally take his place permanently—she won’t even notice.
There’s a photo from last night.
Sloane asleep in bed.
Ethan’s arm around her.
I zoom in on her face.
Peaceful. Beautiful. Mine.
Soon, I think.
Very soon, she won’t know the difference.
And by the time she figures it out—if she ever does—it’ll be too late.
She’ll already be in love with me.
Not Ethan.
Me.
The way it should’ve been from the start.
END OF CHAPTER 4
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