Tristan Fuentavilla, a young lad who had the physique of a perfect lass—no trace of masculinity and the unknown member of one of the affluent families.
He wasn't a homosexual nor a transvestist, but a living mirror of his very own twin sister—a reflection comprised of hatred.
As his sister—Trish Fuentavilla—embodied every woman's dream, Tristan was an epitome of the green-eyed monster; beauty consisted of insecurity, eyes conveyed absolute acrimony and lips contained an unexpressed sentimentality.
What possibly made him like this?
Well, none other than preferential treatment.
Ever since he was a kid, he had never seen his mother and had been living with his workaholic father.
Young Tristan could barely see him around the house. He was always busy day and night. They couldn't even spend a lot of time together nor during meals.
His parents were separated for almost eight years and his father didn't say anything about it, but he was always wondering. Tristan also didn't intend to ask—he was just patiently waiting for an answer.
When he celebrated his tenth birthday, a woman and a young girl—just his age—showed up. And in his recollection, they were introduced to him as his mother, Sharrie Fuentavilla, and twin sister—Trish Fuentavilla.
Then he realized, they were called a family again.
From that day onwards, he felt happy. They were happy. He saw his restless dad smile so genuinely for the first time. The bond he thought would remain only a fantasy, happened to him unexpectedly. Joyous days and carefree moments filled up Tristan's emptiness and completed his lacking existence.
But their happiness did not take long, as the pillar of their family died just a few months later—Timothy Fuentavilla.
His father's death caused misery to all of them. He left not only heartache but also a huge amount of debt that was causing him to work nonstop when he was still living. Sharrie, their mother, almost collapsed after knowing it.
Timothy was the youngest of the three sons of one of the richest families, the Fuentavilla. He was a runaway child and Sharrie was blamed for it. Her love for Timothy ruined their son. That was why their marriage had never been acceptable for Timothy's parents, especially to his mother.
But, despite all the embarrassment and hurtful words that Sharrie received from his family in the past, she ate her pride and shamelessly faced them with Tristan and Trish. She couldn't pay all of Timothy's debt nor could sustain her children alone, thus she needed help.
In any way, she was still his legal wife. She deserved recognition.
However, they did not expect the table would turn for them. As soon as Timothy's mother—Lauren Fuentavilla—met her grandchildren, Trish got her heart immediately and in just a snap, they were wholeheartedly accepted.
Tristan thought that day would be the start of a new and happiest life, and yes indeed for them, but not for him.
Trish became the center of Love. She was absolutely taken care of. Everybody in the mansion was so drawn to her.
They would comb her hair, dressed her well, and even comfortably giggled with her.
Tristan was indeed jealous.
Every time they were gathered for meals, food was automatically offered to her without her asking, while Tristan needed to struggle to reach food for himself.
When she got messy, she'll be cleaned in a second, while he should wait forever for someone to do it for him.
When he had a wound that needed five stitches, everyone was just calmly treating him. Yet, when she had a scratch, everyone was in chaos.
Trish got lost somewhere within two hours, Sharrie had gone crazy for panicking and never stopped looking for her. But, that day Tristan was lost in the crowd by morning and was found by midnight, he went home without a mother waiting for him in worry.
He was scared of that noisy crowd, but his fear was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he saw his mom peacefully sleeping while he was still missing.
On their fifteenth birthday, Tristan was happy when he got a gift from his mom. She was smiling at him while handing him those gifts. But, his overflowing joy swept in a snap when he saw his sister got a sweet kiss, warm hugs, and a beautifully wrapped gift from their mother.
He wanted that. He wanted that too. Not that gift, but that caress, tender touch, hugs, kisses. Care.
He wanted to be loved too.
There was a huge question that kept on running through his head.
What was he lacking?
After a few months, Sharrie and Trish left their home, and not a long after, they were broadcasted in an interview about Trish's rising popularity.
Tristan could see his mom's happiness in her eyes while proudly talking about his sister. From the way she praised her, and the way she bragged about her in front of the interviewer, Sharrie really loves his twin sister.
Melancholically, Tristan asked himself.
What about him? He was also her child, right? Wasn't he the kind of child to be bragged about? Was he unworthy of her praise? Didn't he reach her standard to make her proud?
Sharrie came home a week after alone. Trish was already working on her career as a model and became eminent.
Tristan thought he could finally bond with his mother in his sister's absence but, he was wrong. Their gap was getting further and further.
He could tell, his sister's absence was the worse for his mom. She definitely missed her.
Tristan's chest crumbled a million times when the news of Sharrie's sudden leave for some sort of business trip for the meantime, greeted him early in the morning. He knew she left not for business, but clearly to console her longing.
Realizing that, Tristan questioned his existence since then even more.
Was he really nothing?
Was he not enough to ease her?
Why still her?
He was the one nearer, but why still look for someone farther?
Was it because he wasn't her?
If that was the reason.
Then.
He wanted to be her.
Will he get love if he'll becomes like her? Will he be appreciated? Will their mother recognize him?
Despite all those questions, he did what he thought was right.
And yes, he did, Tristan replicated Trish—they were identical twins anyway.
Months had passed, and Sharrie finally came home. She was surprised when she bumped into Tristan at the doorstep. She mentioned nothing else but the name, "Trish?!"
"No ma'am, it's Tristan," one of the maids told her which formed a disappointed look on her face.
Tristan thought everything will change when he became looked like Trish, but no. He was still Tristan. He was not her and will never be her.
Nonetheless, a little hope lit up his heart when his mother asked for a favor.
Her eyes the way she looked at him. The way she talked to him. Her voice, her tone. Tristan felt warm. He wanted to feel that kind of feeling again. Therefore, without a doubt, he accepted and agreed to her favor.
He agreed to be Trish's proxy.