I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. At the quiet rise and fall of Michael’s chest beside me. I felt like I was losing something I couldn’t name.
Look, I knew that Abby didn’t want my family, they were hers after all. But she was… unnerving. And I couldn’t understand it.
I was close to my husband, sure. My girls were my entire universe. But why was Abby trying to mirror me?
Why did she want to be me? Did she think that she’d find her own version of a loving man? I could understand why she’d want someone with the same qualities as Michael.
He was as kind, generous, and loving as they came. More so to Abby since their father passed…
I knew it was wrong. But I did it anyway.
I went into the guest room. I opened drawers slowly. I checked under the bed.
And then I found it. A shoebox tucked in the closet, beneath one of her bags. Inside, there were photos of me.
Some were clearly taken from behind. There were photocopied pages from my journal. There was a list.
And a page of repeated affirmations:
“Be her. Be better. Be happy.
Be successful. Be her. Be better.
Be happy. Be successful.”
Written over and over and over again. “What the actual hell is this?” I muttered.
And then it got worse. At the bottom of the shoebox was an old letter. It was folded, yellowed, and frayed at the edges.
It was dated almost ten years ago. And it changed everything. My entire perception of Abby changed in that moment.
“Dear Michael,
I stayed behind. You left. I gave up university for you.
I gave up my friend, Sasha, for you. I came home so that Dad wouldn’t have to die alone. So that Mom wouldn’t collapse into a heap on the Persian carpet in the living room.
You got your dorm. You got your freedom. You fell in love with my classmate before we got to be better friends.
I got a part-time job at a spa and gray roots by twenty-five. I met Jared and he seemed to distract me from my life. It was… little.
But it seemed like it was enough. I was supposed to have what you have. I was supposed to have the life Sasha has.
The career. The house. The man who notices when you’re tired and rubs your feet.
I told myself I didn’t need it. That you needed it more because you sent money to us when you got paid for tutoring. But I lied.
Watching your life now… watching Sasha… it’s like I’m staring through a window into a life I almost lived. And I can’t stop reaching for the handle. You just announced your engagement, and I should be happy for the two of you.
You did it the right way. At the beach at sunset. What did I get?
Jared slipping on a plastic ring behind a fast-food joint. Why did I sell myself short? Why did I let my life go?
-A”
I sat on the bed, shaking. This wasn’t just obsession. Abby wasn’t obsessed with me.
She was grieving an entire life that I hadn’t even thought about. And that broke my heart. I hadn’t thought about our time in college in years.
But after reading that letter, it hit me like a punch to the chest. We weren’t best friends. But we shared a few classes, Women in Literature, a brutal 8 A.M.
Statistics course, and a mutual love of pretentious coffee shops. Abby was a year ahead of me, smart and quietly funny, always scribbling poems or doodling in the margins of her notes. I liked her.
I really did. She introduced me to Michael one rainy October afternoon outside the library. He was visiting for the weekend, two years younger, a little shy, with a lazy smile that made me nervous in all the right ways.
“This is my little brother, Michael,” Abby had said, rolling her eyes but smiling like he meant the world to her. “He thinks he’s too cool for school.”
I remember the exact outfit she wore that day. An oversized sweater and leather boots.
She looked tired but I didn’t ask why. I fell for Michael fast. It was intense, magnetic, the kind of all-consuming first love that drowns everything else.
We spent weekends wrapped up in each other. Abby started disappearing from campus events, then from our classes. By winter break, she’d dropped out completely.
I never called. I told myself it wasn’t my business. That she probably needed space.
But now, reading her words… I gave up university for you. I gave up my friend, Sasha, for you… I realized she wasn’t disappearing. She was falling.
And I didn’t notice. I was so caught up in what I was gaining, I never asked what she was losing. Maybe I could’ve called her.
Visited. Sent a text message, for goodness’ sake… I could’ve offered comfort, even just a cup of coffee and a place to talk. But I didn’t.
And now, years later, she’d come back into my space. Properly, not just to visit. Not to reconnect.
But to reclaim something I didn’t even know she’d given up. Did Michael know about all of this? Had Abby sent him that letter?
I was… confused. I slipped down the hallway to the living room. Michael’s iPad was on the coffee table.
“May as well find out everything…” I muttered to myself. I picked it up, entered the password, and opened his email inbox. I wasn’t proud of it.
But I was obsessing now. I searched Abby’s name first. There were just a few links to cars that she was interested in buying.
Nothing more. Then I searched Carol, their mother. The most recent email was a photo of the girls.
The one before that nearly stopped my heart. “Please don’t let her stay here, Michael. You know how she gets when she doesn’t feel in control.
She clings. And Sasha won’t understand it. You’ve never explained Abby to Sasha.
You’re not a kid anymore, Michael. Abby needs to sort herself out. I know she’s grieving her marriage but you don’t have to rescue her.”
Dated two weeks before Abby moved in.
I stared at the screen, cold all over. So, Michael knew. His mother knew.
And neither of them said a word to me. Not even when Abby started dressing like me. I closed the email, placed the iPad back on the desk, and walked out of the room with my chest on fire.
The next morning, I sent the girls to school with their favorite chicken and mayo sandwiches. I hadn’t been able to sleep, so I spent hours making their lunch. I pulled Michael aside.
“I found the box,” I said, pouring him a cup of coffee. “What box, love?”
“The one with pages from my journal. And the photos.
And a letter from Abby… to you. An old letter.”
His face paled. “You knew,” I said, my voice low.
“You knew that Abby wasn’t okay!”
“It was years ago, Sasha,” he swallowed. “I didn’t think… She took that letter back years ago.”
“And what about your mother’s email?”
“She was alone, Sasha,” he said, rubbing his face. “I didn’t think she’d unravel.
I felt bad. She sacrificed a lot for me.”
Abby announced that she was leaving the next day. We stood in the kitchen, just the two of us.
She looked freshly washed, hair curled, face serene. “I realized that this life isn’t mine,” she said. “And it never was.”
She turned and walked away without a goodbye.
I still couldn’t cope though. It troubled me. Abby was hurting.
Drowning, even. Abby met me at a coffee shop down the street a few days after. The one with the mismatched mugs and sunlight that always looked warmer than it felt.
She looked different. Less polished. More real.
Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. No makeup. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said.
“But I need you to know, I read the letter. The one you wrote to Michael.”
We sat in silence for a moment. The hum of soft jazz, the clink of ceramic.
And then…
“I know,” she confessed. “Michael told me. He told me everything.
I’m so sorry, Sasha. Not just for everything I did, but for… the way I made you feel in your own home. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.”
I didn’t speak.
“I didn’t mean to become you,” she continued. “I wasn’t trying to steal you. I just… I’ve lost so many versions of myself over the years.
And when I saw your life, it was like looking through a window into a house where the lights were always on. Warm. Whole.”
She swallowed and looked at the brownie in front of her.
“I didn’t want to take anything from you, Sasha,” she said.
