The knock came at 2:07 p.m.
Marissa remembered the time clearly because she had been scrubbing the kitchen backsplash, her hands covered in lemon-scented foam. She had been wondering if Hayden, her husband, would remember to pick up oat milk on his way home. He usually did—and often brought croissants too.
But Hayden wasn’t supposed to be home for another three hours.
Frowning, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked to the door. When she opened it, there he was. Hayden, wearing a gray hoodie, his work lanyard still hanging from his neck.
“Why are you home so early?” she asked, her stomach fluttering with unease. “Is everything okay?”
Her husband didn’t smile. He didn’t step forward to kiss her or call her by one of the sweet names he usually used. Instead, he looked past her into the house, scanning the space like he was trying to familiarize himself with it.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” he said. “My boss let me go.”
Something in Marissa’s chest tightened. Not full-blown alarm… just a sense that something was off. He still hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t called her “sweetheart” or “Mouse” or any of the things he normally did.
He moved past her, down the hallway, like he was seeing it for the first time.
“Did something happen?” she asked, trailing behind him.
He didn’t answer.
Marissa followed him to their bedroom. The bed was still neatly made from earlier, but in seconds, the covers were in disarray as he rummaged through the nightstand, then the dresser, then the closet. He didn’t even glance at her.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
He froze, like he had only just remembered she was there.
“Something for work.”
“That specific?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, just… give me a sec, babe.”
Her stomach dropped. Hayden had never called her “babe.”
He called her “Mar,” or sometimes “Mouse” when he was in an affectionate mood. But never “babe.”
Her arms crossed over her chest as she studied him. Waffles, their cat, slunk into the doorway, her tail twitching. She adored Hayden. She slept curled up at his feet every night. But now? She stopped short. Her fur fluffed up, and she let out a sharp hiss.
“We still have that thing?” he asked, glancing at the cat in confusion.
Marissa’s blood turned to ice. Hayden would never say that. In fact, she was certain he loved Waffles more than any child they might have in the future.
“Hayden,” she said carefully, “are you feeling okay? Do you need to go to the doctor? I’ll drive. Or would you like some soup?”
He straightened, plastering on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t we have an emergency cash stash? I need it for work.”
She hesitated. “Our… what?”
“The stash. You know… the emergency cash we keep?”
She had no idea what he was talking about. But her instincts told her to play along.
“Oh! That. We moved it to the basement, remember? After the break-ins down the street.”
For the first time, he looked satisfied.
“Show me,” he said.
Her heart pounded as she led him downstairs. She flipped the basement light on and stepped aside.
“It’s in the vanity under the stairs,” she said. “Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you. Just need a drink of water first.”
He hesitated, then nodded and stepped inside.
The second his back was turned, she slammed the door and locked it. Her breath came in short gasps. Then she bolted for the front porch and dialed Hayden. The real Hayden.
He answered on the first ring.
“Mar? Everything okay?”
“There’s a man in the basement pretending to be you,” she said, voice shaking. “Come home. Now.”
Silence. Then, “I’m coming. Marissa, don’t go near the basement. Lock the door and call the police. Stay outside.”
She did exactly that, jamming the door handle with an umbrella before stepping onto the porch to wait. Twenty minutes later, Hayden pulled up, pale and breathless. Waffles bolted from the house and wound herself around his legs, flicking her tail as if to say, I know the real one.
“What happened?” he gasped.
She told him everything, her hands trembling as she spoke. Inside, the basement remained eerily silent.
The police arrived soon after. The man came up quietly, his hands raised. No struggle.
He looked just like Hayden. Same face. Same eyes. But different.
His name was Grant. And as the police questioned him, the truth unraveled: they were twins, separated at birth due to a clerical error. Hayden had grown up with loving parents. Grant had bounced through the foster system.
“I never had a family,” Grant murmured. “Never had a home.”
Later, as they sat in silence in the living room, Marissa crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. “You met someone who looked exactly like you, same birthday, same city. And you didn’t think I should know?”
“I didn’t think it was real,” Hayden admitted. “I thought he was lying. But when I realized… I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Even after everything, Hayden kept in contact with Grant. Something had cracked in his voice when he spoke about him.
A week later, he offered Grant a job at his warehouse.
“He needs a chance, Mouse,” he said. “He deserves one.”
A few days later, Marissa agreed to have him over for dinner. She cooked too much—roast lamb, mashed potatoes, salad, homemade sourdough. Maybe she needed the distraction.
Grant arrived early. He was cleaned up, his posture guarded.
“This smells good,” he said hesitantly.
“I hope you like rosemary,” she replied, offering a small smile.
They ate mostly in silence. Grant picked at his food like he wasn’t used to having so much. Hayden asked about work. Grant answered in one-liners.
Then, over dessert, Grant cleared his throat. “I know you didn’t have to do this. Either of you.”
Marissa focused on her ice cream.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Hayden said. “That matters. I’ll help you find an apartment soon.”
Grant’s eyes flicked to Marissa. “You cooked like someone who wanted me to feel welcome. Thank you.”
She just nodded.
After he left, Hayden wrapped his arms around her. “I know it’s messy.”
“It’s real,” she murmured.
Weeks passed. Grant never returned to their house. But sometimes, Marissa still scrolled through the security footage late at night, watching that version of Hayden who wasn’t him.
And every night, she found comfort in the way Waffles curled up at Hayden’s feet, purring.
She still knew the difference.
And so did Marissa.
