Chapter 3

He wasn't addressing me; he was attempting to communicate with his Olivi through me. Our only exchange consisted of his relentless inquiry: "Is she coming back?"

Every third day, he would ask obstinately. And each instance, I provided the same response: "No."

"Nathan, nobody wants an alternate personality to supplant the primary one. I am Olivia. The other Olivia will never return!"

"She's not the other Olivia!" Nathan's tone suddenly elevated, almost yelling. It caught me off guard. He rarely displayed such emotion. Typically, he was collected, aloof, and reticent.

I suppressed the resentment in my throat and attempted to divert the conversation with a grin. "Shall we attend the concert? See—it's Lucas Chen's. Didn't you mention admiring his cello playing when we last watched him?"

I produced two tickets from my purse, which had cost me considerably, and extended them. But Nathan recoiled as if I were offering something toxic. He departed abruptly, without uttering a word.

In my desperation, I attempted to mimic the other Olivia, metaphorically drinking poison to quench my thirst. I secretly took up piano, practicing two hours every evening after work before heading home. I devoted another half-hour each night to perfecting my smile in the mirror. The other Olivia had been energetic and spirited—everything I was not.

I even forced myself to consume spicy cuisine, enduring swollen lips and watery eyes. I popped a candy in my mouth and persevered. Eventually, my body succumbed, and I ended up hospitalized.

Upon learning this, Nathan immediately flew back from Japan.

You see, it worked. Previously, when I fell ill, Nathan would merely make a phone call, express polite concern, and have his assistant send over some skincare products. But now? Now I received the kind of attention that only the other Olivia had been given.

Nevertheless, his mood was somber, and his anger and disdain were unconcealed.

"Can you cease this foolishness? No matter how hard you try to imitate her, you're not her!"

"Olivi was a musical prodigy. You've been practicing for so long, and you still can't play even the simplest tune. Her smile was genuine and beautiful, coming from within. Yours is rigid and forced."

"And you're not supposed to eat spicy food, stay up late, or consume alcohol. It's detrimental to your health."

Then, in a softer voice, almost a whisper carried away by the breeze, he added, "What will you do if Olivi returns and your health is compromised?"

But I heard him.

It felt like my vulnerability had been exposed. I seized the nearest cup and hurled it at him.

"She is me! She's all of me! This is my body—I can do as I please with it!"

"She doesn't exist! She's not real!" I cried, tears streaming down my face, repeating the words like a broken record.

It was the first time I had ever lashed out at Nathan. Normally, I kept everything bottled up. I was inherently reserved, avoiding conflict whenever possible. Besides, Nathan had always emphasized that he valued calm and sensible women, stating he despised those who caused scenes.

But at that moment, I couldn't contain it any longer. I didn't know how else to release the frustration and helplessness boiling inside me.

The memories of those two years haunted me, constantly reminding me that being "sensible" wasn't a prerequisite for being loved.

Nathan's obvious favoritism was like a slap to the face, forcing me to confront the truth: she wasn't me.

Even though we shared the same face, Olivia wasn't the other Olivia.

No, I realized bitterly, to Nathan, I was probably the fake one.

That day concluded with yet another unhappy parting between us.

I lacked the courage to ask him to celebrate my birthday with me. Not that it mattered—he wouldn't have agreed, even if I had.

A call from my childhood friend, Mia Thompson, felt like a lifeline. She said she'd return the next day and insisted we celebrate my birthday together.

"Don't you dare abandon me for Nathan!" she warned playfully. "Don't prioritize love over friendship, okay?"