A year after my mother d!ed, my father announced he was marrying her identical twin—and everyone around us acted like it was a beautiful ending.

At their wedding, my grandmother pulled me aside and whispered, “You need to know the truth about your aunt.” What she showed me changed everything.

My mom died in a car accident. One moment she was here. The next, she wasn’t. That’s how quickly a life can fall apart.

She was the first person I called with good news. The one I sent dumb memes to at two in the morning. The voice in my head that told me I was strong enough when I didn’t feel like it.

A year later, my dad invited me to dinner.

“Just you, me, and Lena,” he said.

Lena—my aunt. My mother’s twin.

She’d been around a lot since Mom died. Helping out. Bringing food. Keeping things running. I assumed Dad just didn’t want to eat alone.

When I arrived, the house smelled like lemon cleaner and roasted chicken. Lena opened the door, smiling, wearing my mother’s apron.

Inside, everything was spotless. Too spotless. The pillows were aligned. Magazines fanned neatly on the table. It felt like Mom had just finished cleaning—which was strange, because Dad had never cared about that kind of thing.

Dinner was polite. Quiet. But I kept noticing details.

Lena refilled Dad’s water before he asked. Passed the salt before he reached for it. She seemed to anticipate him.

Then Dad set down his fork.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. “Lena and I are engaged.”

The words didn’t connect.

“Oh,” was all I managed.

Lena took his hand. “This wasn’t sudden. We’ve been leaning on each other for a long time.”

Dad nodded. “She’s been living here for months.”

Months.

I hadn’t known.

“I didn’t want to waste time,” he said. “Life’s short.”

I said nothing. I couldn’t. I was sitting at my mother’s table, watching her twin hold my father’s hand.

Over the next weeks, everything moved fast. Lena was suddenly everywhere.

“She’s been such a blessing,” people said.
“Your mom would’ve wanted this.”

Would she?

I kept my doubts to myself. I wanted Dad to be happy—even if it felt wrong.

Before the wedding, they held a small family gathering. People talked about destiny and unexpected love. I tried not to cry.

Lena wore her hair the way my mom used to. I noticed. I couldn’t stop noticing.

My grandmother found me sitting alone.

“You look heartbroken,” she said.

“I don’t understand how this is happening so fast,” I admitted. “It feels like Mom didn’t even get time to be gone.”

Grandma’s face changed. She took my hand.

“You need to know the truth,” she whispered. “Come with me.”

At her house, she brought down a box from the attic.

“I never dressed them alike,” she said.

She showed me photo albums. When they were young, my mom was vibrant, confident. Lena smiled carefully, watching from the side.

But as the years passed, the differences disappeared. Same hair. Same clothes.

“She liked being mistaken for your mother,” Grandma said. “Not just in appearance.”