When the Real One Returns

My name is Ava, and I have willingly been Rose's stand-in, married to Cameron for seven years. During these seven years, I learned to speak like Rose and imitate her tastes in clothing. Throughout Cameron's villa, Rose's photos were everywhere—things I never dared to touch. When he called me, his voice always held a faint, almost imperceptible haze. I know—it wasn't me being called, but the person in the photo. Seven years—enough time for me to get used to this kind of life, yet not enough to fool myself. That day, the butler said Ms. Rose had returned to the country and wished to visit Cameron. My heart tightened; I knew Rose had come back. She is the first love in Cameron's heart; my role as her stand-in must come to an end. I didn't go to meet Rose; instead, I quietly returned to my room to pack. My luggage was light—mostly items I had brought with me, with few additions in these seven years. I packed my suitcase and, without saying goodbye to Cameron, headed straight for the villa's front door. Just as I reached the door, Cameron rushed out from the study, his face dark. "Where are you going?" He grabbed my wrist, his grip uncomfortably tight. I pulled my hand free, my voice steady: "Rose has returned. It's time for me to leave." Cameron's eyes flickered; he seemed about to speak but swallowed the words back. "Ava, things aren't as you think." His voice carried a hint of panic. I shook my head, lifted my suitcase, and kept walking. "Don't look for me anymore. We don't need to see each other again." I didn't look back, afraid my heart would soften. Stepping out of the villa gate, the sunlight was harsh, and I couldn't help but squint. I didn't know where to go, so I instinctively called Patricia. Patricia was my only friend; over the years, she never approved of me being a stand-in. After I called, Patricia immediately rushed over and took me to her apartment. "I told you to leave that man a long time ago." Patricia said as she poured me a glass of water. I sat on the sofa, hugging my knees, my heart hollow and empty. Seven years of youth ended just like that; to say I'm not sad would be a lie. Patricia noticed my despondence and sat beside me, gently patting my shoulder. "Don't dwell on those unhappy thoughts anymore. Start afresh." She suggested I find a job to fill my days with meaning. I nodded. Having stayed at home all these seven years, I had long since become disconnected from society. Patricia brought me a computer, urging me to begin by revising my resume. Staring at the blank resume, I felt bewildered, unsure of what to write. Patricia patiently guided me, helping me to sort through my past experiences. Although I never held a formal job, managing Cameron's household affairs over seven years honed certain skills. After refining my resume, I began submitting applications on job websites. Most of the resumes I sent vanished without a trace; occasional interview invitations came, but none were satisfactory. I did not lose heart; Patricia continually encouraged me not to give up.