Freedom

Sarah's POV:

I leaned against the wall, my body trembling as he towered over me, his gaze piercing through my defenses.

"You're not my wife. You're not Elma," he spat out the words, and my throat tightened with a lump, making it impossible to speak.

"Why would you dare to impersonate my wife?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger and betrayal. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I knew there was no way out for me.

"Please, let me explain," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Answer me," he punched the wall next to me. This made me flinch in fear, and I closed my eyes tightly.

"I will make sure you rot in jail. Spend the rest of your miserable life locked away, and then maybe you'll find the answers I seek," Anthony Wistold said with a tone filled with anger and hatred for me. Elma had approached me with the offer to be her replacement, and reluctantly, I had agreed, and now I will be going to jail.

"I am sorry," I said, but he chuckled painfully.

"Sarah," my mother called from the kitchen, her voice pulling me out of the haunting memories that plagued my thoughts. I took a deep breath before I walked to her.

"I called you countless times; what was on your mind?" She frowned at me before she handed me some pancakes.

"The train will soon leave; you should go now." Then she hugged me tightly. I had lied to her that I was going to work at the government office in the city to repay them for the favor they did by sending the doctors to our community.

"Goodbye, mother." I picked up my purse and walked out of the house. I felt like backing off, but it was too late.

Then my phone rang. I checked the caller ID, and it was Elma Wistold.

"Hello?" Finally, I decided to pick up the call; she had called more than five times already.

"Get out of the slums and meet me in the park in ten minutes; don't be late, sweety." Elma Wistold said that two months ago she approached me with an offer that I couldn't reject. Her offer was good, but the price I had to pay was so stupid.

She wanted me to pretend to be her; just because we look the same doesn't mean we are the same.

I walked a few miles before I arrived at the park, then looked around and spotted the white, luxurious car there that could only belong to a woman like Elma Wistold. I wore a veil covering my face before approaching the car and knocking on the window, and it rolled down.

"Get in already." She sneered, and I nodded before I sat next to her before she closed the windows. Even though we looked alike, I had to admit she had fairer skin compared to me; her blonde hair made me think mine wasn't blonde.

"You are three minutes late; I could have been dead by the rotten smell here," Elma said, and I frowned before taking off the veil.

I looked like her, and she was so beautiful; the articles and cameras didn't do her justice. "The air here is so clean compared to that of the city," I retorted, and she rolled her eyes. "I didn't come here to discuss the air," she added.

"After two months of training you to be like me, you still showed up with a red skirt on a yellow blouse? Poor fashion," Elma hissed.

"Coming from a designer and a fashion influencer like you, it sounds funny. Yellow on red is a thing," I explained with a sarcastic tone, and she scoffed.

"Well, I made a list of colors to wear while pretending to be me. And the most important rule: never... I repeat, never repeat an outfit in an event." She said it firmly, and I nodded.

"Also remember to reject invitations to music concerts and accept actor events," Elma kept explaining. "Music events are so crowded, and I cannot be in a crowded place."

"Oh, always visit the spa once a week. Go shopping twice a week."

"You have been telling me this for the past two months; I also know you are a mother. Won't you tell me about your kids?" I questioned, What type of woman is this? She only talks about herself; what about her husband and kids?

"That won't be necessary; they have maids, and we don't meet often as I am always busy."

"And about your husband? Won't you tell me my boundaries?" I asked, and she frowned. Was I wrong in asking about her husband? "Why will I care about Anthony? I just want the court to know that we lived together for 180 days, and then I will be back on the day of the divorce to sign the papers," Elma said with an irritated tone.

"When it comes to Anthony, never apologize for anything because Elma Wistold is never wrong," she warned loudly, hoping that it stuck in my brain, and I guess it did.

"That's all. Now let's exchange clothes, and my driver will take you back home," said Elma, and I looked at her for a while.

"We both look alike; the only logical explanation is that we are twins. Don't you want to find out if you were adopted?" I asked, How could two people look so alike, from the color of their hair to the structure of their teeth?

"Then lucky me, I didn't get to grow up in the slums with some dirty people."

"Don't call my family dirty." I scolded, and she frowned.

"That family of yours is still breathing today, all thanks to me, and if you mess this up, then I won't spare you and your family... Don't make me angry; it gives wrinkles," she said, trying so hard not to be angry.

I nodded before taking off my blouse.

A few minutes later, we were done with the exchange, and she took out the lavender perfume before spraying it on me. "Now you are ready; I have a flight to catch." She covered her face with the veil.

"Oh, and here is my phone." Elma handed her phone to me, and I sighed heavily.

"How will your husband not know that I am not you? You have both been married for sixteen years," I asked, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"The marriage was a mistake; even fate supports my plan. I mean, you are a fashion major, so you could fit into my job, and I don't trust any of my friends. We all know we are deceiving each other," she said on a serious note before walking down the car.

She had a huge smile, as if she just breathed in the air of freedom, and then she turned to leave.

"Elma," I called from inside the car, and she crouched at the window.

"Before you leave, I want you to know that you are the most selfish person I have ever met," I blurted, and she rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for the compliment, sweety," Elma said with a sarcastic tone before leaving.