The Twin's Last Martian Wish

Ada Mcfadden POV:

The chill of the night air seeped into my bones as I stood on the opulent marble balcony, the city lights a blurred kaleidoscope below. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature. Inside, I could hear their muffled laughter, Gisele's shrill voice punctuated by Clayton's deeper rumble. The sound was a familiar torment, a background score to my gilded cage.

My head throbbed, a dull ache behind my eyes. The exhaustion was bone-deep, a constant companion for five years. But tonight, it felt heavier, almost physical.

"Ada?" a voice startled me.

I turned to see Jovan Cross, Clayton's best friend and business partner, stepping onto the balcony. He looked surprisingly out of place in his perfectly tailored suit, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand. Jovan was always cynical, always observing, rarely interfering.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Concern? Or just curiosity?

I nodded, forcing a small smile. "Just getting some air."

He leaned against the railing, gazing out at the city. "The air's cleaner inside, and probably warmer. You look like you're about to collapse."

He knew me. Or, at least, he thought he did. He had been a silent witness to my quiet suffering, to Gisele's public campaigns of humiliation, to Clayton's blatant disregard.

"I'm fine," I insisted, though my teeth had started to chatter.

He sighed, taking a sip from his glass. "You know, Ada, I never understood why you put up with it. The public spectacle, Gisele's antics, Clayton's... well, Clayton."

He turned to me, his brow furrowed. "You're a remarkable woman, Ada. Talented, intelligent. You could have had anyone. Why him? Why this?"

His questions were not accusatory, merely puzzled. He, like everyone else, believed I was hopelessly in love with Clayton, a lovesick fool clinging to a billionaire who barely acknowledged my existence. He remembered the public frenzy when we announced our marriage-the media calling me a gold-digger, the whispers of a rebound bride after Julian's death.

"It was... complicated," I said, a familiar answer that satisfied no one, least of all myself.

"Complicated?" he scoffed gently. "Ada, you tolerated more than anyone I know. You even picked up morning-after pills for them once. I saw you. In the pharmacy, looking like a ghost."

A flush crept up my neck. That memory was a sharp, cold jab. I had walked through the sterile aisles, my heart a hollow drum, my hands trembling as I handed the pharmacist the prescription. It was one of the many performative acts of my five-year penance.

"You should have left him years ago," Jovan continued, his voice softer now. "You deserve better. You always did. Julian would have wanted you to be happy."

Julian. The name was a phantom limb, an ache that never truly disappeared. He was the reason. Always the reason.

"I'm leaving him now," I told Jovan, the words feeling weighty, solid.

He chuckled, a dry, disbelieving sound. "Don't tell me you're finally going to throw a tantrum. After five years of saintly patience? Ada, seriously. Don't make a scene. It's not worth it."

He shook his head, a hint of pity in his eyes. "You tried, Ada. You really did. Everyone saw how much you loved him. How you put up with everything. But some men just aren't worth it. Clayton never was."

"You still think I loved him," I said, a strange lightness in my voice. The misunderstanding was so profound, so absolute.

Jovan looked at me, perplexed. "Of course, you did. You married him, didn't you? After... after Julian. Everyone thought you were a little mad with grief, maybe trying to hold onto a part of Julian through his twin. But you stayed. You were always there, always waiting for him."

He paused, then added, "Remember the rumors? When you practically threw yourself at him after Julian's death? People said you were desperate, that you had loved Julian and then immediately turned to Clayton."

I remembered. Every scathing headline, every whispered judgment. They had called me unhinged, opportunistic.

"I accepted all of it," I confessed, my gaze fixed on the distant city lights. "Every insult, every humiliation. I let them believe I was a pathetic, lovesick fool."

Jovan frowned. "Why, Ada? What was the point?"

I took a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs, sharp and clean. "The point was Julian." I reached into the pocket of my dress, my fingers closing around the small, cool locket. "Julian's last wish was to have his ashes scattered on Mars."

Jovan stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Mars? That's... ambitious."

"NASA's memorial spaceflight program," I explained, the words flowing out, unburdening me. "It's highly classified. Only direct family members of astronauts can access it. Spouses have a five-year waiting period to be granted full clearance."

"Julian wasn't an astronaut yet," I continued, tracing the contours of the locket. "He was a candidate. And I wasn't his wife. We had planned to marry, but his accident happened before we could."

The memory was a raw wound, still fresh after five years. Julian, brilliant, kind, full of dreams, gone in a flash, a training accident that ripped him from me, from the world.

"I had no legal standing to claim his remains for the memorial flight," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "No way to fulfill his wish."

Jovan was silent, listening intently. His usual cynicism was gone, replaced by genuine shock.

"Then I found out about Clayton," I whispered. "His estranged twin brother. A direct family member. If I married him, I'd become his spouse. I'd initiate the five-year waiting period. I'd get the clearance."

"You married Clayton... for Julian?" His voice was barely audible.

I nodded, the truth a heavy, bittersweet release. "He agreed. He saw it as a way to spite his family, I think. To show them he could do whatever he wanted. He didn't care about me. He didn't care about Julian's dream. He just saw a transaction."

"And you made him believe you loved him?" Jovan asked, a strange mix of horror and awe in his tone.

"I made everyone believe it," I corrected, a faint smile touching my lips. "I played the part. The devoted, heartbroken woman who clung to the memory of her lost love by marrying his identical twin. The fool who put up with his affairs, his indifference, his public humiliations."

"For five years," Jovan breathed, shaking his head. "You endured all of that... for a wish."

"For Julian," I corrected softly. "It was his dream. Our dream. He deserved to go to Mars."

I held up the locket, the small, heavy silver gleaming in the faint light. "Today, Jovan," I said, my voice trembling with a triumph that was purely my own. "Today, five years are up. Today, I collected Julian's ashes from the NASA vault. Today, the mission is complete."

I turned to him, my eyes shining with unshed tears, but also with an unyielding resolve. "And today, I am finally free."

Jovan stared at me, dumbfounded, the glass forgotten in his hand. The truth, stripped bare of all pretense, hung heavy between us. The man he thought he knew, the quiet, docile wife, was a phantom, an elaborate performance. And now, the curtain was falling.