When I opened the door, my breath caught in my chest. The man standing there looked exactly like my husband—same brown eyes, same slight scar above his eyebrow, even the same warm smile. Yet something in his presence felt heavier, older, as though he carried years my husband never had.

He looked at me with quiet intensity and repeated, “It’s time for you to know.” My knees weakened. “Know what?” I whispered, gripping the doorframe.

He stepped inside, and my heart pounded with dread. He handed me an envelope, yellowed and worn, with my name written in my husband’s handwriting. “Your husband never went on a work trip,” he said. “Because… I am him.”

My head spun. “That’s impossible,” I cried. “You can’t be him. He left three days ago!”

The man nodded solemnly. “The man who kissed you goodbye isn’t who you think. He’s… a part of me. A twin I never knew existed until recently. We were separated at birth, raised in different worlds. Fate has brought us together again—but not without danger.”

I tore open the envelope. Inside was a letter, trembling words scrawled across the page: “If you’re reading this, it means you’ve met him. I didn’t tell you the truth because I feared losing you. My brother found me, and I went to learn the truth about our family. If anything happens to me, trust him. He carries the answers to everything we never knew.”

My chest tightened with both relief and fear. The man—my husband’s mirror—took my hand gently. “He’s in trouble. We don’t have much time. I need your help to bring him back.”

And in that moment, I realized my life would never be the same again.