Chapter 1

Ever since we were little, the thing my twin sister Lily and I loved most was pretending to be each other.

When I imitated her, I was so convincing that even our own mother couldn't tell us apart.

So on our birthday, on a whim, I told my husband Grant and our son Owen that I had a business trip and went home disguised as Lily.

The moment I walked through the door, Owen threw himself at me in a fierce hug.

"Lily, you're finally here!"

I froze. Lily—that was my sister's name.

Then I looked down, and what I saw made my breath catch. My son—who'd been diagnosed with autism, who could barely stand to be near me—was gazing up at me with eyes that sparkled.

"Mommy's away on her trip, so today Lily gets to be Owen's mommy!"

"Now that you're here, I don't have to pretend to be autistic anymore."

Grant emerged from the kitchen. This man, who was always cold and distant with me, wore an expression so tender it stung.

"We've been waiting for you."

"Can't help it. Ever since Owen was old enough to tell people apart, he's only ever liked you—never his mom."

Watching the two of them so happy together, my heart went ice-cold.

So the autism was an act. The coldness was an act. All of it just because this father and son wanted to save their warmth for someone else.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

I'll play this part to the end. And when it's done, I'll be done too.

...

Noticing the color drain from my face, Grant quickly set down a gift and stepped toward me.

The worry in his eyes was something I'd never seen before.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

Owen hurried me onto the couch. One of them handed me water while the other pressed a palm to my forehead, checking for a fever.

"Lily, what happened?"

My throat ached with the effort of holding everything in.

"It's nothing. Just too happy about the birthday, that's all."

Grant withdrew his hand and let out a relieved breath.

He sat down in the armchair across from me, keeping a respectful distance, but the tenderness in his eyes was impossible to hide.

"Good."

"If anything's bothering you, you have to tell me. Otherwise I'll... otherwise Owen will worry."

I heard the words he'd swallowed, and my nails dug slowly into my thighs.

Grant had never been this attentive with me. Not once.

Forget handing me water—when I'd been hospitalized for gastritis, all he'd managed was a single, perfunctory phone call. He hadn't visited once in seven days, claiming he was "too busy with work."

And then there was Owen. I couldn't help staring at the son I'd nearly died bringing into the world.

It had never once occurred to me that his autism was fake.

At home, he refused to speak to me. Refused to hug me. Refused to come near me—always keeping me at arm's length.

But I'd told myself it wasn't his fault. He was sick; that was the only reason. And year after year, I'd clung to that consolation.

Now, watching him bounce and chatter in front of me, bright and lively, it was like a knife twisting in my chest.

He wasn't sick at all. He simply couldn't stand me, so he'd kept away.

I drew a deep breath, forcing the rising tide of emotion back down, and held on to my mask of Lily.

Grant brought out the gifts.

"Happy birthday. Owen and I picked this one for you together." He seemed to sense something off and quickly added, "We got something for your sister too."

I opened the box. A necklace. The lily-flower pendant wasn't exactly fine craftsmanship, you could tell right away it was handmade.

Owen scooted over beside me.

"Lily, Owen and Daddy spent a whole day making this!"

"Let me put it on you."

Grant smiled, and the two of them fastened the chain around my neck.

Cool against my skin. Just like my heart.

I couldn't stop myself from asking: "What did you get for my sister?"

Grant opened that box for me too. "Perfume."

A bottle you could grab off any department store counter. Expensive in price. Cheap in every other way.

My gaze dimmed a few shades.

Owen pulled out a drawing next.

I recognized it, he'd done it at preschool a few days ago and earned a gold star sticker. When I'd asked to see it, he'd refused outright, guarding it like treasure under his pillow.

Now, thinking I was Lily, he proudly spread it out and pointed at the three figures.

"This is Daddy, this is Owen, and this is Lily."

With each name he said, my expression stiffened a little more.

"Owen, how come Mommy isn't in the picture?"

Grant chimed in from the side.

"The teacher said to draw your favorite people. You know how it is—Owen's never really been fond of his mom."

Owen bobbed his head, lips pushed out in a pout. "Don't like Mommy."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because when I was little, Mommy wouldn't let me eat snacks and she was always bossing me around about everything!"

My breathing grew heavy.

He didn't like me because... I'd tried to take care of him.

Grant scooped the boy up and turned to "Lily," his eyes full of warmth.

"Your sister's away for work, so it's just the three of us for the birthday."

"How about we take Owen to the zoo after?"

Owen practically leapt with excitement, grabbing one of my hands and one of Grant's.

"Yes! We have to take pictures! We already got the aquarium, the amusement park, and the beach!"

My smile turned to stone on my face.

So all this time, while I wasn't looking, they'd been living like a real family of three—going everywhere together.

A self-mocking glint crossed my eyes.

This home doesn't want me. Then I'll just step out of the picture.