Fight for his wife

Fight for his wife
Marco

I didn’t know what to do the moment I saw the twins stepping out of the house.

From where I was parked, my heart began pounding. I saw them. Two identical figures, one standing, one limp in the other’s arms. My pulse stuttered.

Ashlyn’s head was turning, eyes scanning the area like she was being watched… or like she was looking for someone. The way her body tensed, the way her grip on her sister tightened, something wasn’t right.

A sick feeling twisted in my gut.

Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

I bolted out of the car and ran toward them, adrenaline flooding my system. The moment she saw me, her eyes widened in surprise and alarm. Not the kind of shock that came from joy or relief, but the kind that comes when you’ve been caught.

“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, her voice trembling, eyes flicking behind me and around the street like she was expecting someone to appear.

“I should be asking you that,” I said in my head, but I didn’t voice it. I was already focusing on the woman in her arms who is unconscious, fragile, and scarily still.

“What happened to her?” I asked, cutting to the chase, not even answering her question. My eyes locked onto Ashley or no, Ashlyn? Her face looked peaceful, but eerily pale.

Has something happened inside the house? Something violent?

I quickly glanced at the woman’s hands, the one who was standing. No blood. No bruises. The unconscious twin had no visible wounds either. But that didn’t mean anything happened.

“She just... fainted,” she said, and for a second her voice cracked. “She collapsed out of nowhere. I—I didn’t know what to do. I was going to call someone, but I panicked. I didn’t even know how to get her to the hospital.”

She was trembling. Genuinely trembling. But was it fear? Or guilt?

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Marco. I’m falling apart.”

She still held her twin tightly, and for a moment, I wondered, was it because she didn’t want to let go?

Or was it because she didn’t want me to take her?

That made me pause.

Why?

Why was she so hesitant?

I frowned, narrowing my eyes.

“You don’t have to panic,” I said gently, stepping closer. “I’m here now. We’ll take her to the hospital.”

But instead of calming down, her eyes darted away again. Her fingers twitched nervously.

Something was eating at her.

“Why are you here?” she asked again, but this time her tone wasn’t surprised, it was panic, almost like an accusation. “What if Ashley wakes up and sees us together? What if she thinks we’re plotting something?”

Her words stopped me cold.

Plotting?

I stared at her.

“That doesn’t matter,” I replied, controlling my voice. “What matters is getting her help. She’s unconscious. That’s the priority. Not her assumptions.”

I took a step forward, looking her square in the eye.

And at that moment, she looked back at me.

Our eyes locked.

And I felt… nothing.

No heat.

No electricity.

No tether pulling me toward her like it always did with Ashlyn. Like it did the first time I looked at my wife in the hospital thinking she was my sister in-law.

It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger who wore my wife’s face.

And just like that, I knew.

This wasn’t Ashlyn.

She was Ashley.

Without another word, I stepped forward and reached out. “Let me carry her,” I said, voice calm but resolute.

She hesitated, just for a split second. But it was enough. I took the unconscious twin from her arms. She didn’t resist, but the tension in her shoulders screamed protest. I ignored it.

The moment Ashlyn’s body settled into my arms, something clicked deep inside me. A quiet, familiar hum under my skin.

The scent of her shampoo, lavender and something sweet.

The softness of her hair brushes my forearm.

The way her head rested naturally against me, like we were two puzzle pieces falling back into place.

This was her.

This was my wife.

My Ashlyn.

Which meant the woman standing in front of me, the one who had tried to imitate her, was Ashley.

She thought I wouldn’t notice.

She thought she could play me like a fool.

But she was wrong. I wasn’t that naive man anymore. I could tell.

“Marco, where are you taking her?” Ashley’s voice called out, urgent, borderline hysterical.

I didn’t stop walking. “To the hospital,” I replied coldly.

“No! Marco—please—you don’t understand! If she wakes up... she might do something!”

I froze.

What the hell did that mean?

Slowly, I turned back to her, tightening my hold on Ashlyn. “What… do you mean by that?”

Ashley swallowed hard. Her lips trembled.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so confused, Marco. But... but she’s always ruining everything. She’s always in the way. Can’t we just... be happy? Just the two of us? No distractions. No one else between us.”

I stared at her.

And in that moment, something inside me cracked, something that had been straining to believe, to understand, to make sense of everything.

But now... it made perfect sense.

Ashlyn would never say those things about her twin. Never. She would never chase happiness at the expense of someone else. Especially not family.

Especially not our children.

That sealed it.

I took a deep breath, forcing the storm inside me to settle. Not now. This wasn’t the time. I have one job right now: to get my wife out of here.

I didn’t answer her. I just turned and ran.

“Marco!” Ashley screamed from behind me, the sound sharp, breaking, desperate. “Where are you taking her?!”

I didn’t look back.

But just as I reached the car, a screech cut through the silence.

A black SUV slammed to a stop in front of me. Tires burning. The heavy thud of doors unlocking echoed in the air.

Two men stepped out.

Dressed in black.

Broad-shouldered.

Expressionless.

Eyes cold like steel.

I clutched Ashlyn tighter.

My instincts screamed that this wasn't random. This was planned and set up. And I walked right into it.

But they had no idea who they were messing with.

Because I wasn’t just some man.

I was a husband about to fight for his wife.