I Only Needed Your Face

After the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, the first thing Eliza Lockett did was ask her lawyer to draft a divorce agreement.

"Ms. Lockett, once both parties sign, the marriage will automatically dissolve after the 30-day cooling-off period."

Eliza's expression did not change. "Can I sign his name for him?"

The lawyer hesitated, then quickly shook his head. "No. He must appear in person."

"He agrees to the divorce," she said evenly. "He's just busy with work and can't come. If you don't believe me, I'll call him now and let you hear it yourself."

She took out her phone and dialed Alban Sidham.

"Alban, there's something I need to talk to you about—"

He cut her off before she could finish. His voice was cold and edged with impatience. "Didn't I tell you to handle your own affairs? I don't have time for your trivial matters."

A soft, teasing voice came through the line. "Al, you're peeling them too fast. I can't eat that much…"

A sharp click followed. The call ended.

Eliza Lockett smiled at the lawyer as if she had just proved her point. "See?"

The lawyer's brow furrowed. He hesitated, then finally nodded.

After she signed, a weight lifted from Eliza's chest so completely it almost felt unreal.

She went home in a light mood. She took a framed photo from her collection and wiped the glass with slow, careful strokes.

A maid passed and spotted her at it again. She drifted over to another maid, and the two whispered as if the room itself might keep their secrets.

"Mrs. Sidham really is crazy about Mr. Sidham. She looks at his photo a dozen times a day and polishes that frame like it's a ritual."

"What's the point of loving him? He doesn't like her. He's always ice-cold."

"Exactly. When Miss Buckley was overseas, he flew out to see her all the time. Now that she's back, he's with her every day. He barely even comes home."

Pity colored their voices, the kind reserved for someone clinging to a losing bet.

Eliza did not take any of it personally.

The man in that photograph was not Alban Sidham. The man she loved had never been him.

She had married Alban for one reason: his face. It was the same as Kyran Sidham's. A mirror image.

Alban and Kyran were identical twins.

Eliza fell in love with Kyran in college. They spoke about the future as if it were certain. After graduation, he would take her to meet his family. Then they would marry.

He died before any of it could happen.

It was an accident. A sudden phone call slammed a door on the rest of her life. He left no last words, no farewell, nothing she could hold except the hollow space where he had been.

She had been deeply loved once. That was the problem. After Kyran, she knew she would never love anyone the same way again. She did not try to pretend otherwise.

Thus, she chose something colder. Something she could control.

She wanted a child who looked like him. A small, living proof that he had existed, someone to keep her company in the years ahead.

Kyran's twin brother was the only person in the world who could give her that.

After that, she began to draw closer to Alban. For him, she did things she would once have called insane.

At the time, Alban's secret crush, Davina Buckley, was abroad. His family's pressure to marry had become a constant irritation, and Eliza's proposal offered a clean exit.

He agreed, with terms. She could have anything she wanted from him—status, money, a name on paper. But he would never love her.

It was an ugly condition to state aloud. She accepted it without hesitation.

Alban took that as proof she loved him too much to think clearly. He never bothered to look for another reason.

On their wedding day, Davina called with a cold. Alban did not show up. He left Eliza standing alone before the guests, humiliated under the lights, while he ran to be where he truly wanted to be.

After the wedding, it only worsened. He flew overseas constantly to see Davina. Sometimes, he even made Eliza buy the tickets.

Their bedroom displayed photos of Davina. His study held things set aside for Davina. Even the garden behind the villa was planted with Davina's favorite flowers.

One story after another turned Eliza into a joke among their circle. She never argued. She never explained. She simply played her role as his wife.

The only thing about which she remained stubborn was this: whenever Alban was home, she made sure they slept together.

Alban thought he understood why. He believed she was desperate for him, just as he was desperate for Davina.

He loved Davina deeply, in a way that made him cautious rather than brave. He prized her so much he feared losing her, and because of that fear, he never confessed.

In the end, Davina left the country with someone else.

Eliza never corrected Alban's assumptions. There was no point.

Now she was pregnant. She had what she came for, and that meant it was time to leave.