The Eyes Of Another

Olivia

He was home.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just lay there, staring at the bedside lamp while my mind spun in circles. Same questions. Same ache. Same silence. The bedroom door creaked. The mattress dipped.

Warmth pressed against my back. His body was molding into mine like nothing had changed. But everything had. His breath brushed my shoulder, warm and familiar. His arm slid around my waist, tugging me close with that soft, careful grip. The one he used when he knew he was guilty.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, lips barely grazing my temple. “Work ran late. I didn’t mean to miss our anniversary.”

Liar.

I knew the second his scent hit me. His usual cologne was there. It was crisp and clean but underneath, I smelled something sharp. Hospital air. Bintu Hospital.

My fingers curled into the sheets. Cold metal slid over my wrist. A bracelet. Diamonds, bright and blinding, wrapped in gold. Expensive. Beautiful. Another sorry gift.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. My voice didn’t even sound like mine.

He smiled against my skin. “Bought it in Paris last week. Just for you my sweet Olivia”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to.

Maybe I was paranoid. Maybe Elena was nothing. Maybe love really could survive silence and secrets.

So I reached for him. Let him kiss me. Let him lie to me with his hands.

But then his fingers brushed my face, and something soft and silk slipped over my eyes.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

My heart jumped to my throat. Every nerve lit up, my body tense, senses sharp. I knew this game. Blindfolds. Teasing. Touch.

But this wasn’t the same. There was no playful heat this time.

Only cold.

His touch felt too careful. Too controlled. Like he was distracting me. He didn’t want me to see.

He didn’t want me to think. This wasn’t about our anniversary.

This was about erasing something. And right then, in the dark, I knew.

Leonard wasn’t just hiding a mistake.

He was hiding everything.

**

The knock at the door came sharp and fast, way too early for visitors. When I opened it, my stomach dropped. Patricia.

My stepmother. She always looked flawless like she had been born in designer clothes and perfected the art of cold smiles. I hated that smile. Because Patricia never showed up unless she wanted something.

And today was no different.

She swept past me without waiting for an invite, heels clicking against the floor like she owned the place. She gave the living room a quick scan, eyes landing on my bracelet, Leonard's anniversary gift and her smile sharpened.

“It must be nice,” she said, her voice sugar-sweet, “living in luxury while your father drowns in debt.”

My jaw clenched. “What do you want, Patricia?” Her eyes glittered. “Your father needs help, Olivia. Debt collectors are breathing down his neck. He’s about to lose everything.”

Guilt scraped at my chest, but I pushed it down. I knew about my father’s gambling. I knew he dug his own grave. And Patricia didn’t care about saving him — she cared about saving herself. If he sank, so did she.

“I can’t help,” I said, my voice flat. “And even if I could, Leonard…”

“Oh, please.” She cut me off with a laugh that made my skin crawl. “Don’t act innocent. You’re his wife. You could ask him for anything.”

There was something in her voice, something almost amused, like she knew something I didn’t. And I hated that. Her gaze dropped to my bracelet again. “He’s already so generous.”

I folded my arms. “Why are you really here?”

Patricia tilted her head, fake sympathy plastered across her face. “You know, for someone who’s been given so much, you’re not very grateful.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Her smile sharpened into something cruel. “If your father hadn’t spent a fortune on your eye transplant, maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess.”

My heart stumbled. My throat went dry. “What—what do you mean?”

She gave an exaggerated sigh, like I was slow. “Did you ever ask where they came from?”

The silence stretched. My pulse pounded in my ears. “Where did it come from?”

“Your eyes.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Patricia took her time, dragging out the moment before she said it. “They belonged to a girl named Elena.”

The name crashed into me like a wrecking ball.

“She was in an accident. Left in a vegetative state. Her parents needed money, so they sold her corneas. Your father paid a fortune to give you those eyes.”

My stomach flipped, bile rising in my throat.

Elena.

“Huh? What did you just say stepmother”

“Are you now deaf Olivia? I said your eyes came from a girl called Elena!

I have heard that name so much that now I'm scared. Was it the same girl Leonard lied about?

Were they the same people or was it just a coincidence?

Patricia leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Elena lost everything. And you? You walked through life wearing her eyes like a prize.”

The air thickened. My hands curled into fists so tight, my nails bit into my palms.

“Get out,” I said through clenched teeth.

Patricia blinked, pretending to be shocked. “Excuse me?”

“I said, GET OUT.”

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. This was what she came for to watch me break.

But I didn’t give her the satisfaction of crying. Not in front of her.

She tossed her hair back and sauntered to the door, pausing just long enough to throw one last parting shot over her shoulder.

“You’ll regret this, Olivia. You’ll wish you listened before it’s too late.”

The door slammed behind her.