Episode 1

LEILA

Ever since I can remember, my mom has worked as a chef for the Villarreal mansion. At the age of four, I simply thought that was her job, nothing more. But by the time I was six, I caught her in bed with Mr. Villarreal. That's when I understood that she was his mistress. Even as a child, my intelligence was above average, and as someone who started online studies early, I grasped the situation. Yet, because I never had their attention, they never realized how smart I was.

I have a twin brother. His name is Leo. He gets to go out, attend school, and play with other kids, while I must remain hidden in the small house at the end of the mansion ground where they keep me. At first, I didn't understand why, but now it's crystal clear: Mr. Villarreal is our father. How do I know? My brother is the spitting image of our mother. There's nothing from that man in him, but I'm an exact female replica of him. That's why my brother can go out and I can't. If people saw him, they wouldn't think he's that man's son, but it'd be obvious with me. I have everything from him, from hair to skin color and eyes. Even our expressions match. We both have allergies to seafood and a love for strawberries.

I don't spend much time with Mr. Villarreal. He only visits this small house when his wife and children head out to the grandparents' for the weekend. Then, he'd come and dine with us and spend the night with mom. I'm forbidden from interacting with him. He converses only with my mother and brother and even celebrates my brother’s birthday. To Mr. Villarreal, I'm invisible, as if I'm not there—a reminder of his infidelity to his wife. My brother doesn't resemble him, so while his wife has seen my brother occasionally, she'd never guess he's her husband's child. But with me, she'd know immediately.

His three other sons with his wife don't bear as much resemblance to him as I do. They may have inherited his nose, hair, or eyes, but I am his mirror image. And that's why I am confined to this little cottage at the end of the Villarreal mansion garden.

Today is the day I detest most: my birthday. Since it’s Saturday, that man will come for dinner and celebrate my brother's birthday. Because to him, I don't exist, as if we're not twins. So today, I'll be made to sit at the table while he gives my brother his birthday present, chats with him, and they cut the cake.

"Leila, hurry up and set the table," my mother Leonor instructs.

"Mom, can I go to bed early?" I ask, trying to escape the dinner.

"You know you can't, Leila. So hurry up," she replies, and I lower my head, arranging everything on the table. Today we turn ten, and only my brother is celebrating.

I don't hate my brother. He tells me all he does in school, always buys me ice cream, and brings things for me. He also embraces me when I'm down, which is nearly every day. But he's powerless to make that man let me out to study in school. Thanks to my brother, I'm able to study online because that man didn't want to provide anything; my brother convinced him to give me a laptop so that I wouldn't feel as trapped.

"He's here," says my mother as I finish setting the table.

Mr. Villareal walks in, a tall man with blue eyes and blonde hair, a mole above his lip, dressed in tailor-made suits. We're identical except for the costliness of our apparel. I own clothes my mom finds on sale in the market. She's not allowed to spend much on me.

"Leo, happy birthday. Here's your gift," he hands my brother a box which he opens while I lower my gaze.

"A state-of-the-art phone. Thank you, Mr. Villareal," my brother replies, trying to temper his excitement for my sake.

"Alright, let's sit down to eat," my mother says.

The four of us sit at the table, with Mr. Villareal talking to my brother about school grades and various other things. I eat in silence. Afterwards, they cut the cake, and then they go to bed. I do the same, locking myself in my small room to weep as I do on every birthday.

"Leila, please open the door," my brother pleads from the other side.

"I don't want to, leave me alone," I say through tears.

"Please, little one, open the door," he begs, and I let him in.

"Small one, come here," he says, embracing me, and I sob in his arms like there’s no tomorrow.

"When you're older, no one will force you to hide. I'll protect you from them all, and you'll be free, I promise," he comforts me.

"I hate him," I say amidst tears that won't stop flowing.

"I know, little one, but we can't do anything, not yet. We're just kids," he says, trying to console me until we hear shouting from mom's room.

"You're insane, you have to abort. If it turns out like that brat, I can't cover it up any longer. So take this money and don't look for me until you've gotten rid of it," we hear Mr. Villareal yell. Then the sound of mom's room door, followed by the exit door slamming shut.

"Is Mom pregnant?" I ask.

"Yes, but it looks like Mr. Villareal isn't happy, so I don’t think my mom will have it," Leo answers.

That night, my brother slept with me. When I woke, he wasn't by my side, so I showered and readied for breakfast.

"Leila, eat. I have to go do something. Your brother is with Mr. Villareal at a football match. I'll return in the afternoon," my mom tells me.

"Are you going to abort the baby?" I ask as I sit down at the table.

"It's for the best, Leila," she replies.

"For you, or for Mr. Villareal?" I ask, irritated.

"For us all. You know he's your father, he's the one in charge," she says.

"That man is not my dad. If he doesn't want me as his daughter, why should I want him as my father? I hate him," I respond.

"Leila, please, I have to go. We'll see each other tonight," my mom says before leaving.

"Mommy, please don’t do it. Let's leave this place, forget that man. He doesn't care about you," I plead with tears in my eyes.

"Leila, we're not going anywhere. He's the one paying for your brother’s school and all our expenses," Leonor tells me.

"And he's the one who forces me to stay hidden. Because of him, I know nothing but these walls. How long must I be trapped here for something that's not my fault?" I protest, tears streaming down my face.

"I'm sorry, my girl, but I can do no more than obey your father," my mom says.

"I told you he's not my father," I reply. She leaves, wiping tears from her face. I hear the door lock and continue to cry. I don't want breakfast, so I return to my room and grab my laptop.

I enjoy watching videos of world landscapes and animals. They calm me, along with music. I spend all day in my room. I heard my brother and that man come back for lunch, but I stayed inside. There were some cookies in my room, so that's what I ate. For dinner, I came out because my mother returned and made me.

"Mom, are you okay?" I ask, noticing how pale she looks.

"Yes, I will be once I rest," she answers with a forced smile.

We have dinner in silence, but my concern for my mother lingers. At the end of the meal, she goes to rest, and that man leaves. My brother gives me some chocolates he bought for me, and then we head to bed in our respective rooms.

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