Rewind

sudden vulnerability and sadness tainting his eyes as he replies, “She was the love of my life.”
“Was? Does that mean s-she…?” I gulped suddenly feeling that I was stepping into a private territory by asking questions I know that I have no right to even ask in the first place.
“She died in a car accident a few years ago.” He looks away, for he was desperate to shield the emotional vulnerability that’s so clear in his eyes that even a stranger like me could notice a mile away before saying that he has to go.
I tug at his arm once more, holding him back from leaving again. “Listen, I’m sorry for your loss; I can’t even imagine how difficult it must’ve been for you to lose her, but just answer me those last two questions please, and I promise I’ll leave.” I eye him with sympathy because I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been be for him to deal with the loss of a loved one.
“Do you know if I’m related to her? Did she ever mention me before? I mean: how do we share the same features? I’ve never seen anything like this in my whole life.” Just as I spoke the words out, I couldn’t help but notice how crazy yet real the situation suddenly looks like.
“I wish I knew; she never mentioned her family before.” He taps his feet to the floor multiple times and urges me to ask the last question I have for him.
“How do you know my name?” I asked, confusion lacing my voice.
“I don’t.” His eyes matched my bewildered ones.
“But you said ‘Evie’ when you opened the door; that’s my nickname, so how did you know?” I press on the subject.
“I thought you were her.”
‘Who?’ I thought.
 As if he read my thoughts, he looks up at the stars as he says, “I thought you were Evelyn.”
   Later that night, I lay with my back on the bed, my arms tugged under my head and my eyes staring upwards at the ceiling. Today’s events rush through my brain and I can’t help but think about them- relive them. I feel so confused.
   Never have I ever felt so lost in my life. Whenever I try closing my eyes shut to succumb to my drastic need of slumber, the image of the picture flashes through my mind. Either that or my earlier conversation with Adam about Evelyn, and I can’t help but feel that his actions were rather suspicious.
    At first, when he looked surprised that I knocked on his door and when he said ‘Evie’, it drove suspicion into my heart that he actually knows me; when his expression seemed to be confused by how alike we are physically yet didn’t question it aloud, but one can’t always believe nor act on what he feels. There’s a boundary between reality and emotions that we cannot break, and reality is?
Only God knows.
      What he told me and the emotions his eyes portrayed when mentioning Evelyn made me close to believing him, but what are the odds that his past lover had the same looks and nickname as mine? I don’t even know which is more relieving: me having some sort of a past connection to him that I, for some weird reason, have no knowledge about or him being truthful about losing his girlfriend, fiancée or wife who, for some other weird reason, looked exactly like me?
    All of this thinking started to give me a headache that I thought I was about to drop unconscious, so I decided to head to the kitchen and make some hot chocolate to soothe my mind before I lose my sanity or head to sleep. After I tiptoed downstairs, careful not to make any creak that can wake my parents or brother up since it was midnight by now, and finished preparing it, I slowly returned back to my room.
      Just as I was passing by Trevor’s room to reach mine, I heard a sound coming from inside his room.
Isn’t he supposed to be sleeping?
    Slowly, I stepped closer to his semi-closed door and just as I was about to push it open, enter to question him about the reason why he’s not yet asleep, I stop dead in my tracks as my eardrums vibrate with the words escaping him.
“No, you can’t- not now. I don’t care! Better make her pissed than finding out the truth.”
Who is he talking about?  Why is he even yelling at this time of the night? I shift closer to the door, making sure to stay hidden as I eavesdrop on his conversation.
“Listen, I’m telling you: I went to check up on Evangeline in her room, and I found a picture of Adam and ‘her’ on the floor.”
He’s talking about Evelyn? How the hell does he know Adam? When the hell did he even get the chance to break into my room?
“God knows what she’s thinking right now. Just do it! If she calls you and asks about it, you won’t be able to lie to her!” I jump a little at the sudden rise of temper in his voice.
     Who is he talking to? And why the hell does he want a person to lie to me? My heart clenches in pain at the thought of my brother keeping secrets from me. We’ve always been close to each other; what happened?
“Listen.” He takes a deep breath trying to calm down. “Just avoid her till the day before the wedding, okay? Avoid calling her, meeting up with her, and all that stuff you guys usually do. We can’t put her under such stress and confusion the week before her wedding. If she finds out…” He gulps before he continues in a shaken voice, “If she finds out about Evelyn, it- it’ll destroy her.”
Apparently