All my life, I dreamed of having a twin sister.
When I was 14, my parents divorced, and my dad remarried a woman who had a daughter my age. Suddenly, I wasn’t an only child anymore—I had a stepsister who looked a bit like me, dressed like me… and even had the same name.
My stepmother made sure of that.
She bought us identical clothes, styled our hair the same way, and treated us like we were some kind of matching set. At first, it felt like my childhood dream had come true.
But something about it started to feel… off.
One day, we went to a beauty salon together. The stylist smiled and asked, “Are they twins? What are their names?”
My stepmother answered with one name—ours.
The stylist blinked, confused. “Wait… why do they have the same name?”
And without missing a beat, my stepmother calmly said:
“So we don’t get confused.”
That was the moment it stopped feeling like a dream…
…and started feeling like I was disappearing.
