The Stranger In My Bed

Ethan's POV

Nathan and I were born just a few minutes apart, just like every other twin out there.

But our mum always said I cried first and came out first.

She would tell the same story like it meant something. Like a proof that I was the one meant to stay.

Maybe that’s why I remained with them, while Nathan was sent away to stay with aunt in Manchester.

We were just kids then, barely old enough to understand what being separated meant.

But the memory burned every time I thought of it.

I could still remember the day he left. The way his tiny hands slipped from mine, and how he looked back through the car window as it drove away.

He left on the day of our tenth birthday. And I had never seen him again since then.

Our parents always claimed that it was for our own good, that people didn’t need to know much about two sons.

“It would complicate inheritance,” They always said. So to get rid of their ‘problem’, they arranged the proposal that Nathan would inherit all companies dad had in Manchester while I got the ones here.

And just like that, I and my brother became strangers living parallel lives.

When Dad died, the truth was buried with him. Nathan’s name was never mentioned again. His existence felt like it was erased from our walls, our documents, our stories.

And sometimes I wondered if things would have been different if our parents hadn't separated us. Would both of us be best friends like every other twin out there? Or would we still have landed in the same spot.

And oh my sweet Clara.

She never knew about him. How could she?

How could I tell her about a brother who was practically invisible… Someone even I hadn’t seen in over two decades?

She would’ve asked questions I wasn’t ready to answer. So, I told her my family was small and I was the only son, the company was all I had left.

She brought light into that cold house. For a while, her laughter softened the edges of my loneliness.

I thought I had buried the shadows of my past for good. But when Nathan came back after my accident. Same face. Same steps. Like glancing at a mirror.

The only difference was his gaze. Cold, distant, malicious.

He came back not as my brother, but as my reflection, claiming my name, my life, my world.

But before that. Before everything fell apart…here was Clara.

And there was the truth I hid from her. The truth that could wreck our future. That could lead to her leaving me alone in this bleak world.

She was my achilles heel. My very own ray of sunshine.

After Ryan was born, Dr. Monroe told me the news that changed everything.

I was sitting in that cold office, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air. She spoke in that calm, professional voice most doctors use when they’re about to break your soul.

“Ethan,” she said softly, “You won't have a child again. You're infertile.”

I blinked at her, trying to make sense of what she had said. “Infertile? That’s… impossible.”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” she replied gently. “The tests confirm it. You won’t be able to have children again.”

The words hit me like a slap on my cheek. I walked out of that office feeling less of a man, feeling empty.

For years, Clara and I tried. Month after month, she’d cry in the bathroom, clutching another negative test. And I as stupid as I was. I made her believe it was her fault.

I blamed her. I pushed her away. And my mother, cruel as she was, joined me.

“She can’t even give you another child,” she’d complained.

“A good for nothing. Spineless. A gold digger who used you and your influence to save her parents from the tight clutches of poverty”

I should have told her the truth. Hell, I could have defended Clara in front of my family. But instead, I let my pride rot me from the inside.

Until the morning that changed everything.

It started like any other day. Clara making breakfast, Ryan still asleep. I was already late for a meeting and angry for no real reason. When the coffee spilled on my suit, it was like fire to a fuse.

“Are you stupid, Clara?” I yelled, slamming the cup down. “Can’t you do one thing right?”

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “It was an accident…”

“An accident?” I grabbed her by the arm. “You’re always making mistakes! Always ruining things and giving unnecessary excuses!”

“Please…” The look of hurt written all over her face.

But I didn’t listen. Before she could say a word, I slapped her on her cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the dinning, followed by her muffled sob.

For a second, everything went still. The look in her eyes broke me, but I turned away. I told myself she deserved it. I told myself I deserved to be angry.

I left the house with my heart pounding, my mind spinning. Guilt mixed with rage as I got into my car. I pressed harder on the accelerator, trying to outrun my thoughts, the guilt, the shame.

But you can’t outrun your shadow. No matter how fast you think you are.

My hands grabbed the steering wheel tightly, anger, guilt and an unending wave of fury clouding my emotions.

The last thing I remember was a horn blaring, a flash of headlights and then nothing.

When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital bed. My head throbbed like it was splitting open.

“Ethan?” a voice whispered. It was my mother. Her face hovered above mine, pale and drawn. I could see a sign of relief on herself.

“What… happened?” My voice sounded strange. “Where am I?” I asked.

“You had an accident,” she said, brushing a hand over my hair. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks.”

Three weeks.

It felt impossible. I tried to remember, but my thoughts were like shattered glass. Every time I reached for one, it cut through me.

Then came the doctor, with clipboard in his hand.

He kept on rambling my diagnosis to my mum. I wasn't in the mood to pay any attention to whatever they were saying. The only thing I could do was keep on looking around for her.

Did she know?

What did they tell her?

Does she hate me?

My Clara.

The only thing I could pick up from the doctor was the fact that I had a short term memory loss as a result of the accident. But it would wear off after a few days.

But after some months, when I finally began to recall things together again, my mother suggested that Clara shouldn't know about it.

“She mustn’t know you’ve recovered, Ethan,” she said one evening in the hospital, her tone firm. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” I asked, weakly sitting up. “She’s my wife.” I needed her here. I wanted to see her. To hold her. To apologize.

“We have to do something about your infertility. And this is the right time”.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

That was the moment every shadow of my past resurfaced.

The moment my twin brother, Nathan stepped back into my life.