“You forgot? We got our hair permed together!” she teased, tossing her curls dramatically before slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, I’m treating you to dinner! Oh, and I brought you a gift!”
Yes, we had gotten our hair permed together once.
Back then, if Edna had dragged Kim to the salon, she would’ve emerged smiling, praising “me” for my impeccable taste.
During dinner, Kim did most of the talking while I listened. She noticed something was off and asked a few probing questions, but when I avoided answering, she eventually let it go.
Before we parted, she handed me an out-of-print piano CD.
The fake Edna had mentioned it to Kim just once, and yet Kim remembered.
I couldn’t help but recall a similar moment from years ago when I told Kim I wanted the limited edition Lego “Snow Mountain Cabin” set for my birthday. She’d simply laughed and said, “What’s fun about Lego?” before gifting me an expensive set of cosmetics instead.
Her smug expression as she handed over the gift left me feeling hollow.
But I had learned to let it go.
Don’t fight it anymore, Edna, I told myself. Accept your fate.
No one’s happy to have you back—not Kim, not my mom, and certainly not Hector. They all prefer the lively, charismatic Edna.
No, in their minds, I’m the fake Edna.
It was past ten when I returned home. The house was dark, save for the faint glow of a single candle on a cake resting on the coffee table.
Hector was there, sitting in the shadows. The flickering light danced across his face, softening his features in a way that made him look almost tender.
“Eds, is that you?”
He must’ve heard me approaching. Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting through the dim light. When he realized it was me, his expression shifted. He stood abruptly, crossing the room in a few quick strides before pulling me into a tight embrace.
“I knew it was you. You’re finally back.”
The strong scent of alcohol mixed with the crisp night air hit me as Hector pulled me into a tight embrace. His arms were firm, his voice soft, almost pleading.
I froze. I didn’t dare hug him back. This moment, this tenderness, didn’t feel like it belonged to me—it felt stolen.
“Hector, you’re drunk. I don’t think—”
Before I could finish, his lips pressed against mine, silencing my words.