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The Day I Came Home as My Sister
Novelix
Completed
Summer has spent six years as a devoted wife and mother, only to learn on her birthday that her husband Grant and son Owen have been faking their coldness and Owen's autism—saving all their love for her twin sister Lily. Crushed, she quietly accepts an overseas transfer, gives up custody, and vanishes. Five years later, she returns as a celebrated war correspondent and news deputy director. When Grant and Owen track her down to apologize and beg her to come home, she forgives but refuses to return, choosing her hard-won independence and career over a family that never truly wanted her.
Chapters (3)
第1章
Ever since we were little, the thing my twin sister Lily and I loved most was pretending to be each other.
When I imitated her, I was so convincing that even our own mother couldn't tell us apart.
So on our birthday, on a whim, I told my husband Grant and our son Owen that I had a business trip and went home disguised as Lily.
The moment I walked through the door, Owen threw himself at me in a fierce hug.
"Lily, you're finally here!"
I froze. Lily—that was my sister's name.
Then I looked down, and what I saw made my breath catch. My son—who'd been diagnosed with autism, who could barely stand to be near me—was gazing up at me with eyes that sparkled.
"Mommy's away on her trip, so today Lily gets to be Owen's mommy!"
"Now that you're here, I don't have to pretend to be autistic anymore."
Grant emerged from the kitchen. This man, who was always cold and distant with me, wore an expression so tender it stung.
"We've been waiting for you."
"Can't help it. Ever since Owen was old enough to tell people apart, he's only ever liked you—never his mom."
Watching the two of them so happy together, my heart went ice-cold.
So the autism was an act. The coldness was an act. All of it just because this father and son wanted to save their warmth for someone else.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
I'll play this part to the end. And when it's done, I'll be done too.
...
Noticing the color drain from my face, Grant quickly set down a gift and stepped toward me.
The worry in his eyes was something I'd never seen before.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"
Owen hurried me onto the couch. One of them handed me water while the other pressed a palm to my forehead, checking for a fever.
"Lily, what happened?"
My throat ached with the effort of holding everything in.
"It's nothing. Just too happy about the birthday, that's all."
Grant withdrew his hand and let out a relieved breath.
He sat down in the armchair across from me, keeping a respectful distance, but the tenderness in his eyes was impossible to hide.
"Good."
"If anything's bothering you, you have to tell me. Otherwise I'll... otherwise Owen will worry."
I heard the words he'd swallowed, and my nails dug slowly into my thighs.
Grant had never been this attentive with me. Not once.
Forget handing me water—when I'd been hospitalized for gastritis, all he'd managed was a single, perfunctory phone call. He hadn't visited once in seven days, claiming he was "too busy with work."
And then there was Owen. I couldn't help staring at the son I'd nearly died bringing into the world.
It had never once occurred to me that his autism was fake.
At home, he refused to speak to me. Refused to hug me. Refused to come near me—always keeping me at arm's length.
But I'd told myself it wasn't his fault. He was sick; that was the only reason. And year after year, I'd clung to that consolation.
Now, watching him bounce and chatter in front of me, bright and lively, it was like a knife twisting in my chest.
He wasn't sick at all. He simply couldn't stand me, so he'd kept away.
I drew a deep breath, forcing the rising tide of emotion back down, and held on to my mask of Lily.
Grant brought out the gifts.
"Happy birthday. Owen and I picked this one for you together." He seemed to sense something off and quickly added, "We got something for your sister too."
I opened the box. A necklace. The lily-flower pendant wasn't exactly fine craftsmanship, you could tell right away it was handmade.
Owen scooted over beside me.
"Lily, Owen and Daddy spent a whole day making this!"
"Let me put it on you."
Grant smiled, and the two of them fastened the chain around my neck.
Cool against my skin. Just like my heart.
I couldn't stop myself from asking: "What did you get for my sister?"
Grant opened that box for me too. "Perfume."
A bottle you could grab off any department store counter. Expensive in price. Cheap in every other way.
My gaze dimmed a few shades.
Owen pulled out a drawing next.
I recognized it, he'd done it at preschool a few days ago and earned a gold star sticker. When I'd asked to see it, he'd refused outright, guarding it like treasure under his pillow.
Now, thinking I was Lily, he proudly spread it out and pointed at the three figures.
"This is Daddy, this is Owen, and this is Lily."
With each name he said, my expression stiffened a little more.
"Owen, how come Mommy isn't in the picture?"
Grant chimed in from the side.
"The teacher said to draw your favorite people. You know how it is—Owen's never really been fond of his mom."
Owen bobbed his head, lips pushed out in a pout. "Don't like Mommy."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because when I was little, Mommy wouldn't let me eat snacks and she was always bossing me around about everything!"
My breathing grew heavy.
He didn't like me because... I'd tried to take care of him.
Grant scooped the boy up and turned to "Lily," his eyes full of warmth.
"Your sister's away for work, so it's just the three of us for the birthday."
"How about we take Owen to the zoo after?"
Owen practically leapt with excitement, grabbing one of my hands and one of Grant's.
"Yes! We have to take pictures! We already got the aquarium, the amusement park, and the beach!"
My smile turned to stone on my face.
So all this time, while I wasn't looking, they'd been living like a real family of three—going everywhere together.
A self-mocking glint crossed my eyes.
This home doesn't want me. Then I'll just step out of the picture.
第2章
Even though Lily and I were twins, our tastes were polar opposites.
I preferred mild flavors. She craved heat.
So when I saw the table loaded with Nashville hot chicken, Cajun seafood boil, and Buffalo wings, I knew this meal had never been made for me.
Grant sat across from me. He hadn't crossed a single line, yet my chest ached so badly I could barely breathe.
"All your favorites. Owen picked the lobsters out himself at the seafood market, one by one."
"My hand got pinched."
Owen held up his finger. "It's okay, Lily. It didn't hurt at all."
I glanced at the small cut on his index finger.
Before, I would've panicked—a tiny scrape like that was enough to bring me to tears.
Now, I looked at it with a detached glance and felt nothing but the echo of my own self-mockery.
Still, I bent down and blew on it gently.
His lips pressed together in a shy smile.
"Lily, Daddy made all this food himself, you know! It took him forever."
My mind went blank for a moment.
Six years of marriage, and I'd never known Grant could cook—let alone cook well.
It didn't matter how late I came home from work; dinner had always been my job. On the rare occasion I was sick, I'd hoped he might make me a simple bowl of broth. But he'd just frown and tell me, irritated, that he didn't know how—then order takeout and call it done.
I'd swallowed the hurt every time, digesting it alone in silence.
Yet here he was, a completely different man for Lily.
I forced the corners of my mouth upward. A hollow smile. That was all I could manage.
Neither of them noticed anything was off. They kept piling food on my plate—all Lily's favorites.
I ate. At least for now, I wasn't ready to make a scene.
Laughter filled the dining table—the kind of warmth I hadn't felt once in six years of living in this house.
Grant brought out the cake. Owen set a birthday hat on my head.
"Make a wish, Lily."
I closed my eyes.
Then let me wish for this: that my ties with this father and son end here and now.
I opened my eyes and blew out the candles.
Grant dabbed a bit of frosting on my face, his expression warm but visibly restrained.
Owen "retaliated" on my behalf.
Father and son dissolved into laughter.
And I just stood there, feeling the December cold of New York seep all the way down to my bones.
I texted Grant from my phone, telling him I was almost home.
The moment he read it, his face fell. A crease of irritation appeared between his brows.
I saw it all.
Owen saw it too. His eyes brimming with tears, he flung his arms around me.
"No, no, Lily, I don't want you to go! Why can't you be my mommy?"
"I want you to be my mommy."
He turned to Grant, eyes red and pleading.
"Daddy, can we make Lily my mommy? Please?"
"Owen, don't say things like that."
Grant's voice was stern, but his face was a picture of quiet anguish.
My heart sank further.
"Owen, your wish is going to come true."
His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"
Grant went still.
I nodded, not letting a single crack show. "Really. And it won't be long now."
Just like that, the tears stopped. He beamed and clung to me, refusing to let go.
I managed a small smile, then stood and met Grant's gaze. "I should get going. Still have work to take care of."
Owen's face crumpled with reluctance. Grant's emotions stayed carefully contained.
"Okay."
The door closed behind me, and every last ounce of strength I'd been holding together drained out at once.
I couldn't even remember how I made it back to the car.
All I knew was that my heart felt like it had been crumpled and wrung dry—I couldn't breathe.
I sat with my eyes closed, forcing myself to take deep breaths, until I finally felt something close to alive again.
I changed into a fresh set of clothes and stared at the house in the distance. For the first time, I truly dreaded going back.
Then I pulled up the transfer notice my company had sent the day before.
Yesterday, I'd hesitated. I hadn't accepted the overseas assignment.
But now, I let out a single, quiet laugh and tapped Accept.
I'd leave tomorrow.
第3章
I waited until the moon climbed into the sky before I pulled myself together and pushed open that door.
Inside, everything had reverted to the version I knew. Cold. Distant.
The lively Owen had slipped back into his role as the autistic child—sitting quietly to one side, flipping through a picture book, ignoring me completely.
The tender Grant stepped out of his study, saw me, gave a curt nod, and brushed past without a word.
I stood in the entryway, a sharp flicker of irony in my eyes.
Normally, I wouldn't have thought twice about it. But now that I'd seen with my own eyes what these two looked like when they actually cared about someone, I couldn't bear it for one second longer.
"Did Lily come by today? For the birthday?"
Grant's hand paused mid-pour.
"She did."
"But she saw you weren't home. Stayed for a bit and then left."
Whether out of guilt or reflex, he changed the subject fast and handed me my birthday gift.
"Noticed you were almost out of perfume."
It sat heavy in my hand. I gave a flat, empty laugh. "Thanks."
I walked right past him without asking Owen if he'd had a nice day.
Grant's brow creased.
I knew why. I'd never been cold to him before. I was always the one bending over backward to keep both of them happy.
But I was wide awake now.
That night, before bed, Owen stood in the doorway. This was the time I'd always go read him a story.
He saw me coming down the hall and said, stone-faced, "Mommy, I don't need you to—"
But before he could finish, he realized I'd walked right past without so much as a glance.
He blinked, startled.
I spared him one indifferent look, then shut my bedroom door with a bang.
Grant came in shortly after, eyeing me up and down. "Rough trip?"
"No."
He stood at the edge of the bed, watching me for three full seconds, a trace of displeasure on his face.
"Then don't take it out on a kid."
My hand paused over the visa paperwork I was filling out. A flash of contempt crossed my eyes, but I didn't argue. There was no point.
He lay down beside me, and before long his breathing turned slow and even.
His phone lit up on the nightstand.
I didn't want to look, but my eyes caught the familiar profile picture before I could stop myself.
I picked it up and unlocked the screen. It was Lily.
"Grant, thanks for the thing."
I didn't understand—what thing? But I didn't dig deeper. Almost without thinking, I scrolled up through the conversation.
Nothing improper. Both of them perfectly polite.
And yet, Grant had been texting her almost every day. What he'd had for lunch. What flowers he'd spotted on the way home. Lily shared little stories from work in return, almost daily.
I thought of myself. How long had it been since he'd shared anything like that with me—his wife?
So long that even I could barely remember.
Whenever I tried sharing something with him, he wouldn't even reply. He'd just frown and tell me to grow up.
My gaze drifted for a moment. Then I placed the phone back exactly as it had been, and closed my eyes.
The next morning, I was uploading footage to the station as usual when I realized my camera's memory card was missing.
My heart lurched.
This story was the station's highest-priority package right now. The photos were ones I'd shot on my trip, during which I'd nearly been swallowed by a mudslide.
And now the card was gone.
The blood drained from my face, and just then, the managing editor called.
"Summer! What the hell is going on?"
"I told you we needed to break this as an exclusive, and the other network just ran the whole story!"
The air left my lungs.
"That's impossible!"
I'd been the only reporter on the scene. There was no one else.
But at that exact moment, the TV—already on—was running the story as its lead segment on the morning news. The photographs were mine. The ones I'd lost.
And beneath them, the credited reporter was: Lily.
My pupils contracted.
"Thanks for the thing." The message from last night roared back into my mind.
I looked at Grant, who had just gotten out of bed. My voice shook.
"Did you do this?"
He didn't deny it.
My heart plummeted to the floor.
"Why?"
"Do you have any idea what I went through for that story?"
I nearly died for it.
But faced with my choked, trembling accusations, he just looked at me with that same detached expression.
"She's your sister. Would it kill you to let her have this one?"
Owen appeared too, falling in line behind his father, taking someone else's side.
"Mommy, just let Auntie Lily have it."
My eyes darted between them in disbelief. Then a sharp, self-mocking laugh tore out of me.
"Fine. I'll let her have it. I'll let her have everything."
Including the two of you.
