Twin Brothers

Hazel awoke in the middle of the night, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings of the massive mansion. She was dressed in a luxurious silk robe that was not her own, and it clung to her as she moved. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the room. Her mind was very foggy and she could barely remember a thing.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to explore. She cautiously made her way down the grand staircase, the cool marble floor sending shivers up her spine. As she descended, she heard muffled voices coming from a nearby room. Intrigued, she followed the sounds.

Inside a dimly lit study, a group of men sat around a large mahogany table, their faces obscured by the shadows. They spoke in hushed tones, discussing matters Hazel couldn't even comprehend, the whispered voices behind the heavy wooden door of an office beckoned her closer

She pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear the conversation within. The voices were hushed, but Hazel's curiosity got the best of her. She needed to know what was going on in this enigmatic place.

As she listened intently, her breath caught when she heard snippets of a conversation that sent shivers down her spine. It sounded like they’re plotting something bad, but there was something sinister about the tone and the words being exchanged. She couldn't make out all the details, but it was clear that the people in the room were involved in something illicit.

Just as Hazel tried to piece together what she had heard, the door behind her swung open with a sudden force that sent her stumbling forward. Her heart raced as she fell into the office, her eyes wide with shock.

Before she could regain her composure or attempt to flee, her gaze locked onto a figure seated at the imposing desk. He looked up from his conversation with the men in the room, and Hazel's heart seemed to stop. Her entire world became silent and her throat became dry instantly, “Michael?” she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear her.

Everything made sense to her now, she received a call early hours of today that her husband is dead but what is he doing here?

She gradually strolled towards Jonathan and noticed, he wasn’t Michael. Matter of fact he has a knife scar that marred his face, he appeared even more intimidating. His eyes bore into her, and she felt exposed, as if her presence had disrupted something far more dangerous than she could have imagined.

He had black, straight hair gently hangs over a full, tense face. Shining blue eyes, set elegantly within their sockets,

A knife has left a scar reaching from just under the left eyebrow , running towards his left nostril and ending above his right eye leaves a bittersweet memories.

The men in the room fell silent, their eyes shifting between the two. “I am not Michael, Michael is dead.”

Hazel's world shattered in an instant as the words hit her like a tidal wave. "What?" she gasped, her voice trembling, as if each syllable emerged from a breaking heart. "Michael is de—"

Her plea interrupted the unspeakable truth she couldn't bear to hear. "Don't say it! Don't you dare say it!" Her words quivered, tears welled in her eyes, and her voice cracked with raw anguish. She pinched herself.

Jonathan bit his lower lip and threw Michael’s wedding ring to the floor right next to Hazel. Her legs failed her and she fell to the ground and reached for the ring.

“I already pinched myself hard enough to rip my skin. If it was a dream... I'd be asleep by now." Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, the reality too painful to accept. "It's not a dream, isn't it? He's dead, isn't he?"

Her face, once so radiant, was now flushed a deep crimson, her emotions laid bare for all to see. The devastation had painted her features with the vivid hues of heartache, and in that moment, her world crumbled into a sea of tears and disbelief.

The men looked at Jonathan with the hope he’d something but he just looked at her and took a deep breath in.

“We are all grieving can you just stop?” He said in harsh tone and his men looked away and Hazel didn’t even bother listening to him.

He looked at the disappointment in his men’s faces and he knew he had to fix it but he was never taught to console another human. Never in his life. He stood up and kneeled down. He raised her face and his breath froze.

Hazel possessed a captivating beauty that left an indelible impression on those who beheld her. Regardless of the tears, she was able to lock Jonathan in her eyes. Her face was a symphony of delicate features, where a singular beauty mole graced the canvas just below her button-like nose. This charming imperfection added a subtle allure, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her upper lip.

But it was her eyes that truly mesmerized those lucky enough to gaze into them. Her eyes were, unsurprisingly, the color of hazelnuts—rich, warm, and flecked with hints of gold, like hidden treasures waiting to be discovered but this time they were filled with tears and they were glistening that even the moon cannot outshine them.

They were expressive windows to her soul, exuding a blend of depth and vulnerability. Long, dark lashes framed those beguiling orbs, they casted enchanting shadows because they are flickered with emotion, sadness. Jonathan then understood why Michael married her.

He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her into his hard chest. Immediately she heard his heartbeat she gasped as if it’s something she heard before. It was silent to Jonathan but too loud for Hazel.

“Hush now,” He said pressing her temple so hard that darkness slowly started to crept in and she closed her eyes.

“Should I ask Nancy to prepare her bed?” Chris asked as his slowly walked in and Jonathan shook his head.

Jonathan stood up with Hazel in his arms effortlessly, “No need, thank you though. Let’s resume this meeting tomorrow and… prepare the contract.”

“Whooah— wait up there bud.” Chris tilted his head trying to understand, while at it, he signaled the men to excuse them and he looked at Jonathan as if he had gone nuts but Jonathan's face was a mask of stoic determination, his grief buried beneath layers of icy resolve.

“Jonathan, I understand that the contract is important, but perhaps we should give Hazel some time. She just lost her husband, your brother. It's too soon.” Chris hesitated.

Jonathan's eyes, cold and unyielding, bore into Chris's soul. His voice, laced with controlled anger, sliced through the air carefully trying not to wake Hazel up, “Chris, time is a luxury we can't afford. In our world, every moment is a vulnerability. Hazel needs protection, and the sooner we formalize this arrangement, the better."

Chris sighed, torn between loyalty to his friend and empathy for Hazel's fresh wounds, “I get it, Jonathan, but you can't ignore the grief she's drowning in right now. Pushing this on her so soon... it could backfire. We don't want her to resent us."

Jonathan's jaw clenched, his resolve unyielding, "Resentment or safety, Chris. We can't predict how she'll react, but we can ensure her security. Do what needs to be done. Now."

The intensity of their conversation lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the cold, unforgiving world they inhabited, where emotions often took a backseat to ruthless pragmatism. Jonathan exited the office and Chris in his mind.

“Shit.” Chris cussed as he bit his lower lip nervously. “Michael, what have you fucking done?!” He said as he rolled his eyes and strolled out of the office.