I know you

I know you
Ashley

"I’ll find a way to give you Ashlyn," I said firmly, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to steady it. "But once I do, you must promise to take her far away. So far, Marco will never see her again. I will never allow that to happen."

My brows furrowed when I noticed the slow curl of a smirk forming on his lips, a smirk I couldn’t decipher. Was it amusement? Desire? Or the thrill of chaos? Whatever it was, it made my skin crawl.

But there was no turning back now. I had no other choice. The deal we made felt like a pact with the devil, one that could never be undone. All I could do now was move forward.

He wanted the very person I wished never existed. And yet, I couldn’t erase her, not out of care or kindness, but because I knew this man would never let me rest. His eyes saw, even when closed. His hands reached even when absent.

“Well?” I snapped. “Stop smirking and say something! You think I’m bluffing? Even if I want my twin to vanish from this world, I’m handing her to you. That’s how desperate I am. Just one condition, never let me or Marco see either of you again. I don’t want the illusion I built to come crumbling down.”

He leaned in slowly, and before I could move, his hand was on the back of my neck, warm, possessive, and heavy. There was no pressure, and yet it felt like he was choking me. His voice was cold, slicing through my resolve.

“Between the two of us,” he whispered, “you’re in no position to demand anything.”

I glared at him, fury burning in my eyes, but I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Before I could say a word, he released me.

“But sure,” he added with a dark chuckle, “I’ll take my love far away. We’ll live somewhere no one knows us. No ‘Ashley.’ No ‘Marco.’ Just us.”

Something loosened in my chest. I swallowed hard, and for the first time in a long while, the prison I built around myself cracked open, just a little. Maybe, if Ashlyn truly disappeared from our lives, I could finally have my turn.

But even as that hope flickered, a warning screamed in the back of my mind. Ismael was dangerous. Not just reckless, he was soulless. And if one day he woke up and decided he didn’t want Ashlyn anymore, I was certain he’d bury her alive if he had to.

“Now that we’ve come to an agreement,” he said, flashing a more daring, twisted grin, “why don’t you start making me feel good?”

My eyes widened in shock. I hadn’t expected that. I thought the deal was enough. I thought I could ask him to leave. Damn it. You never bargain with a devil and expect kindness in return.

Marco… he loved Ashlyn too. And even though we looked exactly alike, he never truly touched me, not like this. He wasn’t like Ismael, who treated bodies like toys, stripped of respect or meaning.

I was always the one chasing after Marco. Always the one initiating. Hoping. Begging. But no matter how much I offered myself, he never dared cross that line unless I drugged or guilttrip him. Because he didn’t love me. Even when he thought I was his real wife, it wasn’t me he desired. It was an illusion, he wanted Ashlyn.

I looked at Ismael. I had no more fight left. I took a deep breath and surrendered my body to his demands, but never my heart.

Every tug of my hair, every thrust that reached deep into me, was fire, burning, branding hatred into my flesh. His every move carved one name into my body.

Yes, his touch felt good. I won’t lie. But while he was drowning in pleasure, he was calling her name, Ashlyn. While he grabbed me, caressed me, and kissed me, he was imagining her. Trying to mold me into her soft, modest, sweet.

He had no idea how filthy she really was. How eager, how shameless the woman he idolized became whenever she and Marco were wrapped in each other.

After everything, I was left sprawled naked on the cold floor of my living room, drenched in sweat, tears, and humiliation. But the worst thing wasn’t the physical pain. It was the rage, thick and poisonous stuck inside me like a scream I couldn't release.

I hated her.

I hated Ashlyn with every fiber of my being. But even more than that… I hated myself.

No matter how much venom I spat in her direction…

No matter how many men I used, how many I toyed with to prove a point…

She stayed untouchable. Unbreakable. Untouched by the filth I tried to drag her into.

Why her?

Why did Marco fall in love with her?

Why not me?

We have the same face. The same body. The same lips that men kiss with hunger. But in their eyes, she is the light. The saint. The muse wrapped in innocence. While I am the opposite. The filth. The spare. The one they only remember in the dark.

My nails dug into the throw pillow as I hugged it to my chest, trembling. The ache between my thighs was still there, raw and throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside me.

The ache of being invisible.

The ache of being... second.

I heard Ismael’s footsteps moving away. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him gave me the signal. I stood up, a little shaky, but determined and walked toward the mirror.

There she was.

Her reflection.

Still beautiful. Still flawless. Lips red and full. Eyes deep and magnetic. Skin that glowed. A face to envy.

I looked like her… but I wasn’t her.

I will never be Ashlyn.

“I’ll never let you win,” I whispered to my reflection, no, to hers. I stared as if I could burn her out of the glass. “If I can’t be better than you… I will ruin everything you try to protect.”

And I was already winning.

Ismael, who worshiped you now settles for me. And one day… when he’s sick of you, when he finally sees how shallow and pathetic you really are behind that mask of purity… he’ll discard you. Cold and lifeless.

A smile crawled its way across my face. At first, it was forced, trembling at the corners. But then it grew real. Almost joyful.

There is comfort in madness.

There is purpose in pain.

I picked up my phone, opened the gallery, and scrolled.

Photos. So many photos of Marco and me…

Back when he thought I was her.

Those moments when I touched him, kissed him, held him — and he never doubted.

He looked into my eyes and saw Ashlyn.

But it was me.

It’s me now.

I’ve slipped into her world like a ghost wearing her skin.

I sat on the floor and leaned back on the sofa, ignoring the sting of the cold floor beneath my legs. My mind was no longer in that room. It was already working, spinning and planning. Thinking of ways to kick Ashlyn out of her own home.

She has to go.

This plan… it has to happen. Soon.

I need to be free from Ismael.

I never want to see him again.

Not after what he did…

Not after how little I mattered.

I closed my eyes, my fingers gripping the edge of the couch.

And then, like a spark, the idea hit me. I opened my eyes, and a slow smile crept back to my lips.

I know you, Ashlyn.

I know the real you.

And that knowledge?

That will be your downfall.

And Ismael… he'll be the one to destroy you with his own hands.