My Boyfriend Gave His Kidney to My Twin Sister

I woke up gasping. My hands flew to my right side. My fingers met smooth, warm skin. There was no jagged scar. No agonizing, hollow ache tearing through my abdomen.

A translucent blue screen hovered in the air above my bed.

*SYSTEM INITIALIZED. TIMELINE RESET.*

I stared at the glowing text, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wasn't dead. I wasn't rotting in that freezing, sterile hospital room while my boyfriend and my twin sister celebrated their secret love. I was back in my Manhattan apartment. Seven years of lies and manipulation had just been erased.

The doorbell buzzed, sharp and loud.

I walked to the door on trembling legs. When I pulled it open, Everett stood there. He looked perfect. His dark hair was meticulously swept back, and he smelled of expensive cedar and mint. My boyfriend of seven years. The man who had gently kissed my forehead before sending me to the slaughterhouse.

Behind him stood Jamison, our mutual friend, looking somber.

“Elaina, baby,” Everett said softly. He stepped inside and reached out to pull me into a hug.

I stiffened. A wave of nausea hit my stomach, but I let his arms wrap around me.

“I have terrible news,” he whispered against my hair. “It's Rosalie. Her kidneys are failing. The doctors say she needs a transplant immediately.”

He pulled back and looked deep into my eyes. His expression was a flawless mask of brotherly concern. “You're her twin. You're the best chance she has. We need you to take the compatibility test today.”

In my last life, I didn't hesitate. I loved my sister. I loved him. I said yes, and I signed my own death warrant.

This time, I looked at his handsome, lying face and let the phantom pain of my past life fuel my performance.

I took a sharp, jagged breath and stumbled backward. I let my hands shake violently.

“A test?” I gasped. “A hospital? Surgery?”

Everett frowned, stepping toward me. “Elaina, it's just a blood test to start—”

“No!” I shrieked. I clutched my chest and collapsed onto the edge of the velvet sofa. I forced my breathing to turn rapid and shallow. I hyperventilated, letting real tears of past trauma spill down my cheeks. “I can't! I can't do needles! I can't do hospitals! They'll cut me open!”

Jamison stepped into the foyer, his eyes wide with alarm. “Elaina, hey, breathe. It's okay.”

Everett's jaw tightened. A flash of irritation crossed his eyes before he smoothed his features into a calm, patient smile. He hated public scenes. He hated when things didn't go exactly his way.

“Elaina, be reasonable,” Everett said. His voice dropped to a low, commanding register. “This is your sister. She's dying.”

I looked up at him through my tears. “But what if I match? I'll die on that operating table, Everett! I can feel it. I know I will!” I sobbed loudly, my shoulders heaving.

Then, I lunged forward and grabbed his hands. His knuckles were rigid.

“But you,” I cried out, my voice echoing in the quiet apartment. “You are so brave, Everett.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

I squeezed his hands tightly, refusing to let him pull away. I raised my voice so Jamison could hear every single syllable. “You love my family so much. You always said you would do anything to protect us. You're the strongest, most generous man I know.”

I looked at him with wide, desperate eyes. “You take the test. Please.”

Everett froze. The color drained from his face. “Me?” he stammered, his smooth charm vanishing. “Elaina, I'm... I'm not related to her.”

“But you could still be a match!” I wailed. I clung to him like a lifeline. “People do altruistic donations all the time! And you have that noble, savior heart. Everyone knows it!”

I turned my tear-streaked face to Jamison. “Doesn't he, Jamison? Everett is always talking about doing whatever it takes for the people he loves.”

Jamison nodded slowly. He looked at Everett with deep respect. “She has a point, Ev. You're the most stand-up guy I know. It wouldn't hurt to just get a swab.”

The trap snapped shut.

I watched the micro-expressions war on Everett's face. He was boxed in. He had spent years cultivating the image of the perfect, selfless gentleman in our elite Manhattan social circle. He couldn't refuse now without looking like a massive coward in front of Jamison. And deep down, he couldn't say no to saving the woman he secretly obsessed over.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He swallowed hard.

“I... I suppose I could get tested,” he forced out. His voice sounded hollow. “Just to rule it out.”

The blue screen flashed in my peripheral vision:

*TARGET SECURED.*

I buried my face against his chest, hiding my cold, victorious smile.

“Thank you,” I whispered into his expensive shirt. “You really are her true savior.”