Chapter — Shadows Beside the Light
The friendship between my twin brother Leo and Micah was as strong as ever. From kindergarten to now, nothing had changed between them. If anything, they had only grown closer. Even fate seemed to conspire to keep them together—they both ended up in the same department, Art, while I was left in another, far away, alone.
In my department, I had no friends. Just acquaintances, people who smiled politely but never lingered, who never asked me to join their group. The only true friends I had in school were Leo and Micah, though truthfully, even "friends" was stretching it in Micah's case.
Still, every lunch break and after school hours, we reunited—the three of us. Always together, always inseparable. At least on the surface.
Micah's world
Micah's parents were nothing like ours. They weren't just wealthy—they were in a league of their own. Billionaires. His mother was a world-renowned fashion designer, and his father the owner of one of the largest companies in the country. Their names carried power; their influence stretched across industries.
Micah was born with a diamond spoon in his mouth. He could inherit an empire without lifting a finger. That's what made his choice confusing—why study art instead of business? Why pour himself into sketchbooks when he had a company waiting?
Sometimes I told myself he probably wanted to go into fashion like his mother. But when I looked at him, really looked, I knew that wasn't it. He wasn't chasing fashion or business. He was simply… himself. A boy who did what he wanted, when he wanted, untouchable by expectation.
And more often than not, what he wanted was Leo.
There were moments when I wondered if Micah saw my brother as more than a friend. They were never apart. He was possessive in ways that made my chest tighten—hovering close, scowling if anyone else got too near, monopolizing Leo's time with a casualness that made me feel like a third wheel.
Our parents were working-class people—successful, yes, but constantly traveling, rarely home. By middle school, it had become routine for Leo and me to stay at Micah's mansion whenever they were away. More often than not, Leo requested it himself, happy to be where Micah was.
And me? I tagged along. Always the extra piece. Always included because Leo insisted on it.
Growth…
At sixteen, we were no longer children. Our bodies had shifted, voices deepened, features sharpened. But while Leo and Micah had grown into tall, striking young men—both easily 180 cm—I was left behind, barely 170 cm.
It was another reminder of our differences.
No one believed we were twins. We were fraternal, yes, but standing beside Leo, I looked more like a distant cousin than a brother born just two minutes later. He was tall, handsome, and magnetic. I was short, average, and forgettable.
Leo and Micah together were the faces of our school. Students called them ML, the abbreviation of their names but also short for male lead—as though they were the protagonists of some grand story. Everywhere they went, eyes followed. Even the younger students whispered their names like celebrities.
Our school wasn't just any school. It was one of the best in the country, filled with children of wealth and power. And while we weren't as rich as Micah's family, our father's company was successful enough that we were considered second-generation rich. We lived comfortably, given every opportunity our parents could afford.
Still, I never forgot the gap. Between Micah's world and ours. Between Leo and me.
Brothers..
Despite everything, Leo treated me with the same affection he always had. He loved Micah, yes, but he never stopped caring for me. He showed his soft side to both of us, something most people didn't realize he even had.
He called me "brother" with warmth, and he called Micah the same.
But I could never call Micah that. I never saw him as a brother.
By the time we entered Grade 10, I understood why.
It happened one afternoon in Leo's room. The three of us had gathered after school, as usual. I was seated at the study table, neat and organized, working quietly through assignments. Leo and Micah were sprawled across the bed, papers scattered, their heads bent close as they solved problems together.
The sight was so familiar, so ordinary, that I almost missed the moment that changed everything.
"Micah, why did Nyla call you out again?" Leo asked casually, pencil tapping against his notebook.
Micah didn't look up. His voice was bored, impatient. "Same as usual. And I gave the same reply."
Leo chuckled. "Persistent, isn't she?"
"Yeah, I guess. What's the answer to number forty-five?" Micah muttered, clearly uninterested in pursuing the topic further.
I froze.
It wasn't the words themselves, but the way they fell from his lips. Cold, dismissive, sharp. Over the years, I had come to know Micah's real personality—his indifference, his detachment. Unlike Leo, whose coldness was just a mask for a warm heart, Micah's coldness seemed to run to his core.
He was polite enough with his parents, even playful, almost babyish. But outside of them and Leo, his warmth evaporated. To everyone else, he was distant. Untouchable.
And yet, despite his sharp edges, he was beautiful. His face hadn't changed much since childhood—still delicate, still striking—but his body had grown, sculpted into that of a young man. Standing beside Leo, they looked like a pair of male leads ripped straight out of a novel.
Students adored them. Girls swooned. Even some boys whispered their names with flushed cheeks.
And hearing Nyla—one of the most popular girls in our year—confess to Micah, again and again, was like a knife twisting in my chest.
It shouldn't have mattered. Micah barely spoke to me outside of Leo's presence. He never sought me out, never spared me a glance unless my brother was beside me. Our conversations, when they happened at all, were shallow, functional.
But the ache was undeniable.
That was when I realized it.
I liked him.
I had liked him for years, in the way I once thought he was a fragile, beautiful girl in kindergarten. But now it was different. Now I understood. I wasn't mistaking him for someone else. I wanted Micah as he was—his coldness, his beauty, his indifference. All of it.
And I knew, just as clearly, that my feelings would never be returned.
I leaned back in the chair, staring at the half-finished equation on my paper. My pencil hung limply in my hand.
Across the room, Leo and Micah laughed softly at something on the page, their shoulders brushing, heads bent close together. The sight was ordinary, casual. But to me, it was unbearable.
I pressed a hand against my chest, as if I could stop the strange ache there.
"Hmm." The sound slipped from my lips, a sigh, a whisper no one heard.
If life is like this now, what will the future be?Leo and Micah, side by side, untouchable. And me, forever in the shadows, watching.