ME AND MY TWIN SISTER

The phone went dead before I could answer.

For several seconds, I simply stared at the screen.

“Deepika?”

Nothing.

I pressed the call button again.

The call wouldn't connect.

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of the lock turning.

I rushed toward the door.

“Deepika! Open it!”

Silence.

I twisted the handle violently.

Locked.

I hit the door with my palm.

“You can't do this! Open the door!”

Still nothing.

My breathing became heavier. I stepped backward and looked around the room.

The realization slowly sank in.

She had planned this.

The phone call, the dress on the bed, the locked door, even taking the solvent bottle with her—it wasn't a collection of coincidences. It was another carefully arranged step in whatever ridiculous game she had decided to play.

And I was trapped in the middle of it.

I looked down at myself and felt a wave of humiliation.

Only yesterday I had thought the ordeal would end after I returned home. I had imagined taking off everything, putting on my own clothes, and finally feeling like myself again.

Instead, Deepika had simply moved the finish line.

I walked to the bed.

There it was.

The outfit she had left for me.

Folded perfectly.

Waiting.

I picked it up and threw it back onto the mattress.

“No.”

The word came out quietly.

Then louder.

“No!”

I paced across the room.

There had to be a way out.

I checked the door again. Then the window. Then the wardrobe.

Nothing.

The window offered the only obvious possibility, but when I looked down, the distance to the ground made me hesitate. Even if I managed to climb out, where would I go?

I had no money.

No proper clothes.

And, worst of all, no way of removing the things Deepika had attached to me.

She had made sure of that.

I sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

For the first time, I stopped thinking about the embarrassment of the clothes and started thinking about Deepika herself.

Why was she doing this?

She could have played one harmless joke and stopped. Instead, every time I thought I had reached the end, she produced another surprise.

And somehow, she always seemed to be three steps ahead of me.

I clenched my fists.

“Fine,” I whispered.

If she wanted a game, then I would play.

But I wouldn't play by her rules forever.

I began searching the room carefully.

I opened every drawer, checked beneath the bed, looked behind the curtains and examined the shelves. Most of what I found was useless—old magazines, stationery, a few books and a collection of things that had probably been forgotten years ago.

Then I found something interesting.

An old mobile phone.

I stared at it.

My heart jumped.

I pressed the power button.

Nothing happened.

I tried again.

The screen remained black.

I searched the drawer again and found an old charger. It seemed to fit.

I connected it.

Nothing.

I waited.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Finally, a tiny symbol appeared on the screen.

I almost laughed with relief.

It was an ancient phone, but it was something.

I waited for it to charge enough to turn on.

While I waited, I heard a sound outside.

Footsteps.

I froze.

Someone was walking down the hallway.

The footsteps stopped directly outside my door.

A key slid into the lock.

I quickly placed the phone beneath the pillow.

The door opened.

It wasn't Deepika.

One of her friends stood there carrying a breakfast tray.

She looked at me.

I looked at her.

Neither of us spoke.

She slowly entered and placed the tray on the table.

“You haven't eaten anything,” she said.

“I don't care.”

“You should eat.”

“I want my clothes.”

She looked away.

“Deepika said—”

“I don't care what Deepika said.”

My voice echoed through the room.

She flinched slightly.

I immediately regretted shouting, but my anger had been building for too long.

“Where is she?”

“On the camping trip.”

“She left me locked in here and went camping?”

“She said you'd be safer here.”

I gave a bitter laugh.

“Safer?”

The girl didn't answer.

I walked toward her.

“Look at me.”

She reluctantly raised her eyes.

“Do you honestly think any of this is funny?”

Her expression changed.

“No.”

That answer surprised me.

I waited.

She looked toward the hallway.

Then she lowered her voice.

“I don't agree with everything she's doing.”

I stared at her.

“Then help me.”

She swallowed.

“I might be able to.”

For the first time that morning, I felt something other than anger.

Hope.

“What do you mean?”

She closed the door carefully.

“Deepika expects you to fight her.”

“She knows I'm angry.”

“She expects you to shout. She expects you to try the window. She expects you to refuse the clothes.”

I frowned.

“And?”

“And if you do exactly what she expects, she'll always be ready.”

I sat down slowly.

The girl continued.

“But if you make her believe you've stopped fighting…”

I looked at her.

“…then she'll stop watching so carefully.”

The room suddenly seemed much quieter.

“What are you suggesting?”

She gave me a nervous smile.

“Pretend you've surrendered.”

I stared at the closed door.

For days, I had been trying to escape every trap as soon as I discovered it.

Maybe that was my mistake.

Maybe I had been fighting too loudly.

Maybe the only way to defeat Deepika was to make her believe she had finally won.

I looked at the pillow where the old phone was hidden.

Then I looked at the dress lying on the bed.

A strange calm settled over me.

“All right,” I said.

The girl raised an eyebrow.

“All right?”

I nodded.

“Tell my sister whatever she wants to hear.”

“And what will you do?”

I smiled for the first time that day.

“Something she won't expect.”

Outside, somewhere beyond the locked bedroom, the house was completely silent.

But inside that room, something had changed.

For the first time, I wasn't simply waiting for Deepika to decide what happened next.

I was making a plan.

And when she returned that evening, she would believe she was walking into the same game she had designed.

She wouldn't know that the rules had already changed.