Mr. Marsh’s Twins

Over the years, Agnes had written countless short emails to that account. Whenever she thought of him, she couldn’t help but open her inbox. Initially, she asked why he wasn’t active on social media anymore, whether he could still receive messages, if something had happened to him, or if he had gone abroad. During holidays, she sent simple greetings, asking if he was well or sending various similar messages. There was never a reply; he had completely vanished.

Later, even though she knew she wouldn’t get a response, she still logged into her email to tell him about her new comic book releases, the reasons for her school transfer, her graduation, and how she found a job doing what she loved. But there was never any reply.

Agnes treated him like an old friend. After all, during those youthful days, their souls were so in sync. It was late when she left the museum. The rain had stopped, and she used her phone to call for a ride. Standing by the roadside waiting, she wondered if her sister and Spencer had made any progress or if they had been silent the whole time.

Soon, the car arrived. Agnes sat in the back seat of the taxi with the window open. The cool evening breeze blew in, messing up her hair but not clearing her mind. She thought again of the man called “Kitten.” With the rise of text messaging in recent years, like everyone else around her, she rarely logged into social media accounts anymore. She sent fewer emails to him but seemed to think of him more often.

To this day, she didn’t know his real name, his age, what he looked like, or where he was. But during those busy high school days, he was like a guiding light. They discussed comic creation together; his suggestions were always spot-on and significantly improved her work. Agnes admired him deeply; she felt his vision was broader than hers, his aesthetic better, and his knowledge wider. He was both a mentor and a friend to her, and she was filled with gratitude.

But then he suddenly disappeared without a word. She didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye properly. This became Agnes’s only regret from her youth-a regret she never mentioned to anyone and perhaps… her greatest regret.

The next morning.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

At the hospital.

Rupert’s surgery was still ongoing. The doctors were trying to save him because he had been severely beaten and was still not out of danger. A doctor had already informed Rupert’s parents, who hadn’t slept all night on the bench outside the operating room, that they needed to gather the surgery fees immediately or the treatment would stop. After all, this was a hospital, not a charity. Two major surgeries had already been completed without any payment from the Brightwood family.

Mrs. Brightwood’s heart was torn with indecision as she murmured to her husband, “Should I sell my kidney?” She wasn’t joking; they were truly desperate. They had no more credit with relatives or friends.

There are no secrets in this world; everyone in their neighborhood and family knew about Rupert’s gambling problem and felt sorry for him. Mr. Brightwood also considered this as their only option since they couldn’t delay paying the enormous surgery fees any longer.

The couple knew that selling one kidney wouldn’t be enough; both would need to sell theirs. But it was a cruel choice.

At that moment, slow yet firm footsteps approached from afar until they stopped right in front of them. The couple huddled together on the bench with their heads bowed slightly when a pair of shiny leather shoes came into view.

They were startled and slowly looked up along the straight pant legs until they saw a familiar face. Their bodies stiffened instantly; they didn’t even dare to breathe loudly.