One Soul Between Two
When twin daughters were born into the family, though it was no surprise, Marina felt a flicker of fear in the hospital at first. The nurses brought the identical girls for feeding and left them in her room.
“How will I tell them apart?” she wondered. “Knowing twins were coming was one thing, but now they’re here—my sweet girls, two of them, so alike.”
Yet Marina soon grew accustomed to her twins, distinguishing them by subtle signs only she could see. Everyone else mixed them up.
Emily and Lily grew up inseparable, attending nursery and school together. By their teenage years, they knew the old legends—how the ancient Greeks believed twins were children of the gods, how there was even a constellation named Gemini. Most of all, they’d heard the saying: twins share one soul between them, thinking as one.
And it seemed true. If Emily fell ill, Lily would follow. They stumbled into similar scrapes, and with their matching faces, even their own family sometimes confused them. Their personalities, their habits—barely a difference. As they grew older, they fancied the same boys.
When the time came to leave school, both excelled and planned to attend university. But during the Christmas holidays, Lily fell terribly ill. Emily waited, certain she’d catch it too. Days passed, and Lily suffered alone. Their parents rushed her to hospital, where the diagnosis came swiftly—a vicious blood disease.
“You should have come sooner,” the doctors said bluntly. “Though we understand—without symptoms, who would?”
Lily fought for six months. By spring, she was gone.
Emily was in class when it happened, but at the very moment her sister died, a sharp pain tore through her chest. Her heart hammered as if trying to break free. She nearly fainted.
Their parents feared for Emily. Would she survive the loss? She herself waited, half-expecting to fall ill just as Lily had. They rushed her to hospital, but the tests came back clear.
Grief crushed the family. Emily kept asking, “Why Lily? Why her and not me? It’s like part of me is gone.”
Her mother fretted. “Darling, your exams—you must focus. Do well, for yourself and for her.” Emily nodded, gritted her teeth, and passed with flying colours.
Through the sorrow, one thought crystallized. “Mum,” she said one evening, “I’ve decided. I’m going to medical school. Suddenly, I feel this need—to fight these wretched illnesses, to help people.”
Her mother hugged her tightly. “Then your father and I will do everything to support you.”
Time dulled the pain, but Emily missed Lily terribly. No one had ever understood her like her sister. “Mum,” she confessed once, “it’s like my life split into ‘before’ and ‘after.'” Her mother understood—she felt the same.
Years passed. Emily was nearly done with university when love found her. Thomas made her smile properly for the first time in years, breathing new life into her.
They’d been together three months when Lily appeared in a dream. She waved, as if pointing somewhere. Emily woke unsettled—it was the first time she’d dreamt of her since the funeral.
“I should visit her grave,” she thought that morning. “Light a candle in church too.” Her mother agreed.
On her way to lectures, she called Thomas. They’d planned for her to come over after class.
“Tom, I’m sorry—I need to visit the cemetery first. Then church.”
“Alright, love,” he said. “If you need to, you need to.”
Two lectures were cancelled. Grateful for the extra time, Emily headed straight to the graveside, then to church. She checked her watch—plenty of daylight left. She’d surprise Thomas, home on his day off.
But his front door was unlocked. She pushed it open quietly—then froze.
Thomas was with another woman.
All three stared, stunned. He’d forgotten to lock up when his “friend” arrived.
“Emily—!” He leapt up.
“I never want to see you again,” she spat, bolting outside.
Easier said than endured, of course. But as the anger cooled, a thought struck her: “Thank goodness it happened now, not later.” He’d already mentioned marriage. What if he’d betrayed her after vows?
Thomas begged forgiveness at her doorstep, swearing it wouldn’t happen again.
“I’ll never believe you,” she snapped. “Get out of my sight.”
He vanished—until friends tracked her down.
“Emily, Thomas borrowed money using your name. Said you’d cover it.”
She wouldn’t have believed him. But this was her closest friend, married with a child. She’d never lie. Emily paid the debt, furious yet relieved—proof she’d been right to walk away.
Then she remembered the dream. Lily pointing, as if warning her. Maybe she’d been steering Emily clear of disaster. The realization settled: Lily was still with her. Always had been.
Years later, Dr. Emily worked night shifts at the hospital. One evening, she left early to beat traffic—only for her car to stall mid-journey.
“Brilliant,” she muttered, lifting the bonnet despite knowing nothing about engines. “What’s wrong with you, old girl?” She’d just had it serviced.
After several failed attempts, the engine roared to life.
“That’s my girl,” she laughed.
A few hundred yards on, traffic crawled. A horrific crash had blocked the road—four cars mangled.
“God… that could’ve been me,” she whispered.
Parking at the hospital, she bumped into a tearful nurse.
“Jen, what’s wrong?”
“My brother—he just died in that crash near here.”
Emily hugged her, chilled. “I saw it. Stay strong.”
Changing into scrubs, the pieces clicked. “Lily stopped me. That stall saved my life.”
After her shift, the garage found nothing wrong with the car. Another sign.
She visited church often, lighting candles for Lily, thanking her.
One afternoon, a friend called. “Em, it’s been ages. Fancy coffee at Fountain Square?”
“Perfect. I’m free.”
Driving over, Emily parked and headed for the pedestrian crossing. But as she stepped forward, her bracelet—Lily’s bracelet—snapped, beads scattering.
“Oh no—” She bent to gather them—
CRASH.
A car had ploughed into the crossing. Three people lay stricken. She’d have been among them.
Her friend rushed from the café, hugging her tightly. “Thank God you’re safe.”
That evening, Emily glanced at Lily’s photo on the dresser. The beads, the stall—her sister was still protecting her.
She wasn’t superstitious. She kept Lily’s things in a trinket box, seeing no harm in it. Some discarded belongings of the dead, but to Emily, they were reminders—not of loss, but of the soul they’d shared.
Lily was with her. Always.
So Emily lived for them both. And she knew—she’d always feel it.
