Vera lay with her eyes closed. On the opposite bed, Olivia sat cross-legged, reading aloud from a textbook. Vera’s phone erupted with a popular ringtone. Olivia slammed the book shut and shot her friend a disapproving look.
Vera answered reluctantly. A moment later, she was sitting up, then tossing the phone aside, jumping to her feet, and dashing around their cramped room, shoving clothes from the wardrobe into a sports bag.
“Where are you going? What happened?” Olivia asked, alarmed.
“Neighbour called—Mum’s been taken to hospital, heart attack,” Vera said, zipping the bag and heading to the door where their jackets hung and boots sat scattered.
“You’ve got an exam tomorrow! She’ll be looked after. Sit it, then go,” Olivia said, standing as Vera tugged on her boots.
“Liv, explain it to the dean’s office for me. I’ll sort everything when I’m back. I’ll retake it in the holidays. My bus leaves in forty minutes,” Vera said, already zipping her coat.
“Call me when you know how she is,” Olivia said, but Vera was already out the door. The sharp click of heels faded down the corridor.
Olivia sighed and turned back, spotting Vera’s phone charger on the bed. She grabbed it and bolted barefoot after her.
“Vera! Wait!” she called, racing down the stairs.
The front door slammed below. Olivia leapt the last few steps, shoved the door open, and nearly tumbled outside.
“Vera!”
Vera turned, saw the charger in Olivia’s hand, and jogged back.
“Thanks,” she muttered before dashing off again.
“Honestly, you two! One nearly breaks the door, the other runs out barefoot. Having a laugh, are you?” The dorm supervisor, Mrs. Wilkins, glared from her desk.
“Sorry, Mrs. Wilkins—Vera’s mum’s in hospital. It’s freezing, can I go?” Olivia said, rubbing her bare feet against the cold, grit-covered floor.
“Oh Lord!” The woman sank into her chair and made the sign of the cross. “Heaven help us.”
Olivia trudged back upstairs, shook the gravel off her feet, tidied Vera’s mess, slipped on slippers, and went to fill the kettle. Exam tomorrow—tea first, then back to the books.
By nightfall, a timid knock came at the door.
“Who is it?” Olivia called, but no answer. She sighed, got up, and opened it.
“Hi.” Anthony stood there, holding a small bouquet.
“Come in,” Olivia said, letting him step inside before adding, “Vera’s gone home.”
“But she’s got an exam tomorrow?”
“I’ll talk to the dean. She’ll retake it in the holidays.” Olivia’s gaze lingered on the flowers.
“These are for you,” he said, handing them over.
“Thanks. Want some tea?” She took the bouquet to the windowsill, grabbed a jar.
“I’ll get water—you get comfy,” she said with a smile before slipping out.
Anthony only took off his shoes, then sat on Vera’s bed, running a hand over the cheap bedspread like he was touching her.
Olivia returned, set the jar with flowers on the table, stepped back to admire them.
“Pretty. What are they?”
“Sweet peas,” Anthony said. “I should go.” He stood.
“Did you and Vera have plans?” Olivia asked quickly, not wanting him to leave.
“Yeah. Got tickets to a gig.”
“Really? Take me instead. No point wasting them.”
Anthony hesitated.
“You’ve got an exam tomorrow.”
“So? I’ve been studying all day—I need a break.”
He wavered. Vera was gone, tickets going spare. They’d only just started seeing each other—nothing serious. Going with her roommate wasn’t betrayal, right?
“Alright,” he said.
“Yes!” Olivia jumped, clapping. “Wait outside—I’ll get changed.”
Five minutes later, she emerged, mascara and lipstick freshened, hair styled.
“Come on, we’ll be late,” Anthony said.
At the gig, Olivia danced, arms in the air, shouting along with the crowd. Anthony caught her energy, loosened up, joined in.
After, they walked back, buzzing.
“That bit was my favourite,” Olivia hummed a tune.
“Yeah, and the—” Anthony hummed too, even mimicking the lyrics.
Back at the dorm, Olivia tugged the locked door.
“Mrs. Wilkins is on. She’ll never let us in. What now?”
Anthony grabbed her hand. “This way.”
Round the corner, two girls were climbing through a ground-floor window.
“Quick—before they shut it.”
He hoisted Olivia up. Hands pulled her inside. Then a whistle shrilled.
“Hurry!” Olivia hissed.
Anthony scrambled in just as the whistle faded. They all froze.
“Thanks,” Anthony muttered, nudging Olivia toward the door.
Giggles followed them as they bolted upstairs, collapsing into Olivia’s room in laughter.
“I should go,” Anthony said, catching his breath.
They stood in the dark, the light still off.
“Stay. I like you. A lot,” Olivia whispered, pressing close, tilting her face up—
Vera returned to the silent dorm at the end of the holidays. Olivia and Anthony hadn’t come back yet. She arranged her missed exam with a doctor’s note. The crisis had passed, but her mum was still recovering.
She scraped through the exam. Term started, but Olivia never returned, didn’t answer calls. The dean’s office said she’d taken leave for health reasons.
Soon, a new girl moved in. Studies, Anthony… No time to wonder about Olivia. Eventually, everyone forgot. Anthony never told Vera about the gig, what happened after. Even he wondered if it was real.
Twenty-one years later.
“Mum, Dad, I’m home!” A girl—Anthony’s double—walked in.
“How was uni?” he asked, lowering his paper.
“Let her change first,” Vera called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s heating.”
At the table, their daughter said, “I met a girl at uni today—she looks just like me. Everyone noticed.”
“That happens. They say everyone’s got a double. More potatoes?” Vera asked.
Anthony froze.
“Dad?”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Claire. Claire Lightwood.”
Vera’s gaze sharpened. “Olivia Lightwood—we shared a room first year. She left after that. Remember, Anthony?”
“That’s her! Claire Lightwood—pretty name, right?”
Anthony choked on his tea. “How many times have I said—don’t pour boiling water!”
Vera sighed, added cold water. He pushed it away.
“Honestly, that alike?” Vera murmured as he left.
“Everyone says so.”
Anthony pretended to nap on the sofa, mind racing. *Coincidence? Or—no, it happened. Why did she leave? Idiot.*
Vera’s voice cut in. “You’ll ruin your sleep. You sick?”
“No.”
He barely slept. Next morning, he called in sick—dentist, he lied—and drove to the dorm.
“Claire Lightwood—does she live here?”
The new supervisor eyed him. “Who’re you?”
“Uncle. Just visiting.”
Three girls descended the stairs.
“That’s her. Claire, visitor!”
Claire’s glance skimmed him. “Who are you?”
Anthony hesitated. “Was your mum Olivia Lightwood? Born September 25th?”
Her expression shifted. “You’re him, aren’t you? Where’ve you been?”
Outside, he confessed. “I didn’t know. It was once. Tell me when you finish—I’ll wait.”
At 3:30, Claire slid into his car.
“Hungry? Café?”
“Just talk.”
He told her everything. “If I’d known—”
“What would you’ve done?”
“I don’t know. Is she—?”
“Died giving birth. Grandma said it was Rh incompatibility. She made Mum keep me. Regretted it after.”
Anthony handed her his card. “If you need anything—call.”
“Won’t your wife mind?”
“No. Tell your—our daughter if you want.”
That evening, he told Vera.
“You kept this secret—why now?”
“Because Claire exists. If you can’t forgive me—”
“You’d have left me for her?”
“No. I wouldn’t have left *her*.”
Vera’s voice cracked. “Why tell me?”
“Claire might’ve told Marina. I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“You think I didn’t guess when Marina mentioned Claire? All these years—”
“I won’t wreck our family. It was years ago. But I don’t know if I can forget.”
Marina took the news well. “A sister? Cool! Will she live with us?”
Claire visited weeks later.Eventually, as the seasons turned, the weight of the past softened into quiet understanding, and though some wounds never fully healed, they learned to carry them together—not as a burden, but as a part of the story that had shaped them all.
