A letter to the post man

I went straight to my room, my heart pounding with hope and determination. Tonight was going to be a turning point—a chance to reclaim the life I'd been piecing back together.

On the bed lay a shimmering red dress my father had chosen for me. I traced my fingers over the fabric, marveling at its beauty and elegance. It was a perfect fit for the woman I was becoming.

As I slipped into the gown and straightened my long hair until it fell smoothly down my back, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognized myself. The months I'd spent recovering and rebuilding had brought me back to life. I had regained my strength, my confidence, and even a touch of glamour.

I descended the staircase slowly, feeling every gaze in the room turn toward me. My father stood proudly at the bottom, his smile broad and filled with love.

"This is my daughter, Reina," he said, his voice carrying across the room.

The guests murmured their approval, their compliments washing over me.

"She's breathtaking."

"What a transformation—she's stunning!"

Some of the guests whispered to my father, casually suggesting introductions to their sons. But he shook his head, his protective nature shining through. "She's just come home. Let's give her time," he said with finality.

At twenty-two, I was beginning to find my place again, but the ground shifted beneath me as another figure appeared at the top of the staircase.

She descended gracefully, her red silk dress gleaming under the chandelier. Her golden necklace caught the light, and her black hair, straightened to perfection, fell like a curtain down her back. Her blue eyes sparkled like gems, commanding the attention of the room.

It was Geynie.

She was stunning—but more than that, she looked like me. The resemblance was uncanny. The same height, the same delicate features, the same elegance. Only her darker hair and piercing blue eyes set us apart.

My father introduced her with as much pride as he had me. "This is my eldest daughter, Geynie," he said warmly.

The words lingered in the air, and I felt a strange knot form in my stomach. I wasn't the sole heiress anymore. We were mirrors of each other, but I couldn't shake the unease I felt.

Before I could dwell on it further, Alex walked into the room. Relief washed over me at the sight of him—my brother, my anchor in this whirlwind of change.

Dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, he looked every bit the reflection of our father. But my eyes drifted to the woman by his side—a redhead with vibrant emerald eyes. The way Alex spoke to her, his tone softer than I'd ever heard, sparked my curiosity.

With a playful grin, I approached them and looped my arm through Alex's. "Oh, Alex, so you've left your sweetheart all alone tonight?"

He froze, his cheeks flushing as he tried to regain his composure. "Reina, don't start," he muttered under his breath.

Feigning innocence, I pressed on. "Why are you telling me not to start Alex? You're the one who seems to have moved on!"

Alex groaned, running a hand through his hair. Finally, he turned to the redhead and cleared his throat. "Leticia, this is my sister, Reina."

"Nice to meet you, Leticia," I said warmly, extending my hand.

Her grip was firm, her eyes studying me with curiosity. I gave her a small smile before leaving them to their conversation, the playful victory over Alex still making me grin.

As I stepped back into the crowd, my thoughts returned to Geynie. The resemblance between us gnawed at me. It wasn't just a coincidence—it felt deliberate, almost too perfect to be natural.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flicker of movement—a shadow slipping past the edge of the room. My heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, I followed it, weaving through the dimly lit hallways until I found myself in a secluded part of the estate.

A figure stood ahead, partially shrouded in darkness. My chest tightened when I recognized him.

"You'll get yourself kidnapped again if you keep sneaking around like this," he said quietly, his tone both familiar and teasing.

My breath caught. "Damian," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He turned, his features illuminated just enough for me to see his expression—half exasperated, half amused.

"Keep your voice down," he muttered.

I didn't hesitate. I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him from behind, holding him tightly. "I've missed you," I said softly, my emotions threatening to spill over.

He stood still for a moment before stepping out of my embrace. "You shouldn't be here," he said curtly.

But I wasn't letting him slip away again. I steadied myself, the whirlwind of questions and suspicions swirling in my mind.

"Damian," I began, my voice firm. "We need to talk."

He gave me a sharp look, his expression unreadable, but he nodded.

And with that, the moment lingered, heavy with unspoken words.