Chapter 4

   

    

    

    

    

    

    

 Hadzen P.O.V

The cool evening breeze caressed my face as I walked onto the balcony. My mother, Maxine, was standing there, her arms crossed, her body tense with impatience. Her eyes were on me, a constant reminder of the pressure that she placed upon my shoulders. It had become an obsession for her this search for my sister and I knew all too well the weight of her expectations.

I walked with a premeditated elegance, every step a carefully balanced expression of restraint. I was my father's son eyes cut from glass, face chiseled from rock. Where my father's gaze was warm, mine was cold: a shield against the world, and more important, against my mother's relentless demands.

"Where did you go?" Her voice cut through the air, sharp, pointedly accusatory. It was a familiar tone, one which had almost become a backdrop to my life.

"Training," I said with an even voice, a hint of not caring slithering in, trying to sound emotionless. I knew that Winston had spoken otherwise, but I just wasn't about to admit now that I had skipped the session. My mother's frustration was something I had learned to navigate with precision.

Maxine's eyes narrowed and contorted, her face a mask of irritation. "You're lying. Winston told me you don't have a one-on-one lesson with your grandfather today."

An accusation jarring, yet my face didn't change a wit. I passed her, my indifference practiced. Her words seemed a distraction that I didn't need, and I had turned to the edge of the balcony when her voice followed me, becoming insistent.

"I'm still talking, Hadzen," she yelled behind me, a lacing of anger and desperation. I didn't stop but kept my back to the horizon.

"Your sister was found," Maxine said softly, almost reverently. "Your father found her."

The words stung me like a jolt. I could feel my pulse racing, but not out of excitement-more from the weariness of repeated false hopes. I turned around, my eyes cold as ever, although something a bit darker flickered within.

"Good," I said flatly. "Now we can all rest easy. You're no longer preoccupied with the idea of finding her."

I could feel the pain in her eyes. It had been eons since I was the apple of her eye. Her obsession to find my sister had pushed me aside, making me just an afterthought.

"Hadzen, she doesn't remember everything," Maxine pleaded. She was softer now, her tone desperate, urgent. "Please, cooperate. She's your twin, and I'm sure deep inside, you're feeling that she is. You're the only one who can truly help her remember."

It stirred something in her appeal: a concoction of resentment and buried desires for a connection. I had rejected the idea of her being my sister after so many disappointments, yet a part of me still ached with desires for that lost bond.

"Yeah, just like the last girl who came here and you thought was Hannah? How many times are you going to get our hopes up only to be wrong again?" I let my bitterness seep into my words. The cycle of hope and disappointment had become all too familiar.

Maxine flinched at my words; it was almost palpable, her pain, reminding me of how far apart we had grown. I knew the sting of memory from a past failure still burned, but to me, it was hard to look past an obsession that had overshadowed it all.

"I need to rest, Mom," I said all of a sudden, cutting her off. "I've been training hard for the final exams; I have no time for this now."

Her expression changed from sadness to frustration. "You don't care about your sister, do you?" Her voice choked in hurt.

I shrugged, indifferent-sounding. "I'll see her later, Mom. Right now, I need to rest."

Maxine's shoulders sagged, then turned to go. Her heart was heavy with her concern, and I knew from her desire for this reunion, it would bridge the gap between us. It felt as if it were pushing us farther away from each other instead. Her parting words were a last wish, a request wrapped in finality.

She spoke softly, "Don't let the day end without seeing her. She needs to remember her childhood to confirm that it's her. Hadzen, she's different from the rest. This is a time for us to celebrate."

"Alright, Mom, I will see her later," I said with a voice empty of conviction, only because I'd had to say something.

As Maxine went out, I was standing in the hall, battling a perfect storm of contradictory feelings. Unending searches for my sister, the false leads, all that had finally reduced me to an afterthought. In some ways, it was as if I had been made invisible, backgrounded by the increasing obsession in my mother's head.

Hours passed, and long after the sun had gone down, I made my way out of the room. I'd thought a few times about diving off the balcony, but a guard on the ground below had stayed that urge. The more subversive option seemed better in my mind, so I slipped out of my room and began to head downstairs toward the first door.

As I made my way down the hall, a certain smell caught my attention. Subtle, yet unmistakable, it was an odor that seemed to reach deep inside me and touch some primal part of my being. My curiosity was aroused, and with light, purposeful steps, I followed the smell.

The smell was now very much stronger. I approached a room nearby, turned toward the door, and slowly opened it. What met my gaze upon entering stopped me dead in my tracks.

There she was, lying on the bed. The girl that Maxine had talked about, my sister supposedly. Her eyes opened, and they opened like mine; one blue, one yellow. Her features, skin, everything was like a reflection of myself.

She was sitting up beside the bed, her head on her arms, sleeping. Something about her vulnerabilities stirred something in me—something that, for a long time now, I had buried beneath layers of resentment.

"So, it's you," I said in a quiet tone, breaking the silence. "My so-called sister."

That woman's head whipped in my direction, her eyes wide with astonishment. Her eyes locked with mine, the unspoken connection between us palpable-strong, and open for all to see-filled with the aroma of both disbelief and recognition.

I stepped farther into the room, my face expressionless. "I wasn't sure you were real," I said in a low voice. "I thought this was just another one of my mother's wild fantasies."

Slowly, she sat up, still processing me."I don't remember anything," she whispered as her voice dropped with doubt. "Still, they keep telling me that I am your twin."

I studied her face for my lost sister. "You don't remember anything at all? Not even a little?"

She shook her head, her face troubled. "No. It's all a blur. I just. I feel like I'm missing something important."

I laughed the amusement was absent from my voice. "Yeah, well, welcome to the club. We've all been missing something since the day you disappeared."

She looked at me, her eyes clouded with both confusion and sorrow. "I'm sorry. I wish I could remember.”