It's not that I lack ambition. Or that I'm afraid of hard work. I'm just… different. A twin born thirty days after the first can hardly be called a twin at all. Mike is older than me by thirty days. Thirty days… and an entire lifetime.
His powers awakened when he was ten. Mine? I can't even make the wind listen. Like that's not bad enough I'm always blamed for my mother's pain, she was In labor for thirty days, she passed out from the pain and exhaustion but she didn't want to give up on me. I've learned to be content with a quiet life. Or at least, I've learned how to pretend. In this family, I've always been the omen. The crack in the glass. Something people look at… but never too closely.
"Levi?"
My mother's voice pulled me back.
"Levi… didn't you hear us?"
I blinked, the world snapping back into place.
"Sorry… what did you say?"
Part of me wasn't sure I wanted to know. My father didn't hesitate.
"I'm sending you to Earth."
The words didn't land immediately. They hovered… then shattered something inside me.
"I hope you live a peaceful life there. Among mortals." He added
Why me? The question burned in my chest, but when I opened my mouth, it came out smaller. "Why do I have to leave?"
"It's what's best," he said simply. "You can't stay locked in this house forever."
And this… this was the solution, I'm not the one practicing magic
"Sending me away is what makes sense?" I asked, my voice tighter now.
"It's better if you and Mike spend time apart," he continued. "Find something you enjoy. Be free." A pause. Then the final blow, delivered like it meant nothing. "You don't have powers anyway."
Something in me flinched. I tried to speak.
"I—" But the words tangled in my throat, then sank back down where they belonged. Useless people don't argue. They accept. They endure and silently nod their head That's how it's always been.
"…I'll leave tomorrow," I said quietly.
No one stopped me.
"Maybe we should reconsider" mother spoke softly to father but his silence was clear enough.
I turned and walked out before they could see what was left of me.
*************
"Why would you accept being sent to earth" Lazarous stormed into my house, our place. Ignoring all my boundaries. He tried to convince father but rumor has it, he was struck out of his office. Now I have to deal with his outburst
"When you think about it, it's not a bad idea"
He glared.
Somehow, his reaction brought me comfort. Like someone actually feels my pain.
"It's not fair" he complained. "I'm going to speak to father again"
"One strike wasn't enough? I pointed at his obvious limp.
He hesitates. "I'm going to break Mikes legs for this" but paused midway "it's a bad idea isn't it. Let's drink to it "
He gave up before asking the maids to bring the wine.
I Didn't sleep. Not even for a moment. No matter how many drinks I drown myself in, I lay there replaying it… how easily they let me go. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just a quiet decision, like moving an object that no longer belonged. And how I will miss seeing you in these walls, your silhouette slowly walking away from me too far to reach.
My last morning, I came to the garden. Our garden. One last time. The air was still, the kind that remembers things. I let my eyes wander over every corner, trying to memorize it… or maybe trying to let it go. I don't even want to know anymore
"Taking in the view one last time, brother?"
Of course. Not the voice I wanted to hear… but perhaps the one I needed to. "Good morning, Mike," I said lazily, not bothering to look at him.
"It is a good morning," he replied, far too pleased with himself. "I actually came to introduce you to my wife. You didn't get the chance yesterday." A pause. Then softer, almost theatrical. "She insisted on meeting my almost-twin brother. Didn't you, dear Monicah?"
"Yes," she said gently. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you this morning…"
That voice.
Soft.
Polite.
Nothing like hers. I looked up. And there she was. That face. The same one I had once memorized like scripture. The same one I had… loved. And now— Now it sat on someone else like a stolen crown.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," she continued. "I had no idea I looked like your… late wife."
I stared at her, blank. That face didn't belong to her. It shouldn't belong to anyone else. And yet here she was, wearing it so casually. It made something twist inside me. Something ugly. Something I didn't want to name.
"You can always come find me," she added softly, "when you miss her."
That did it. A flicker of something dark rose in my chest, sharp and sudden. For a moment, I imagined tearing that face away, peeling it off until the illusion broke—oh how satisfying it may be. But I swallowed it. Buried it. Because that's what I do.
"I will never desire another man's wife," I said evenly. "And even if I did… it would never be you."
Her expression faltered, just slightly.
"I hope we never meet again, Miss Monica." I stood. "If you'll excuse me… I have other matters to attend to."
And just like that—
I walked away. From everything, everyone.