My boyfriend Randy and his friends kept a group chat specifically to turn me into a replica of his first love.

"Today’s hairstyle isn’t right. Without that slight curl, she doesn’t look like Audrey."

"And today’s outfit—Audrey would never wear such a tacky shirt." My eyes flickered for a moment.

Audrey Evans was my boyfriend's beloved crush.

Then came the day Audrey returned to the United States.

I secretly changed into a mini skirt, painted my eyes smoky, and spent the night with an attractive stranger I met at a nightclub.

After three years of trying to be the obedient girlfriend, I was beyond sick of it.

***

I arrived outside the bar just in time to hear someone laughing out loud inside.

"It must have felt like a huge accomplishment to transform your girlfriend into your dream girl, right? I bet you're having a lot of fun in bed!"

Upon hearing this, I froze immediately.

Through the crack in the door, I saw Randy, who was supposed to be dead drunk, sitting in the middle of his friends. Smoke curled in the air around him, blurring his expression.

"It's alright. No matter how good a copy is, it'll never beat the original, right?" He smirked and joined in the laughs.

That smile landed cold and harsh in my heart beneath the dark lights.

It felt like I'd plunged into an icy lake as every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze solid.

I didn't know how long I stood there.

Only when their conversation shifted that I finally pushed open the door.

"Randy."

Everybody looked up and exchanged looks before clearing a path for me.

"Debra, you're here. Randy's had a bit too much. Sorry to trouble you."

Their words were polite, but the mockery in their eyes was unmistakable.

I wondered how I had never noticed it before.

When Randy spotted me, his eyes lit up, and he opened his arms wide. "Honey, come give me a hug."

There was so much warmth in his eyes that it made me doubt what I'd just heard.

I struggled to get him back to bed, helped him change his clothes, and made a cup of coffee for his hangover.

"Randy," I whispered. "Get up and drink this, or you'll wake up with a terrible headache."

He opened his eyes slowly and wrapped his long arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder and nuzzling affectionately.

"Feed me," he mumbled.

His hot breath tickled my ear.

I placed the cup near his lips, ready to feed him. But before I could do so, he grasped my chin and pulled me into a deep, lingering kiss.

His breath reeked of alcohol, but his mouth only tasted faintly of tobacco.

I felt a pang of resistance and was just about to pull away when he let go on his own.

"Honey, I don't want to drink that coffee. I promise I will not have a headache tomorrow. I'm just so exhausted. Let me sleep, okay?"

A phone buzzed in the middle of the night, waking me alert. I groggily reached for it on the nightstand and unlocked it.

"I was sleeping when I remembered that we haven't rated Debra's looks today! Wake up, guys! Let's give her a score."

"Honestly, I'd give her a 6 out of 10. Her hair is wrong as it doesn't have that little wave, so she doesn't look like Audrey."

"And what's with the shirt she was wearing? It's so tacky. Audrey would never wear something like that."

Only then did I realize that I had grabbed the wrong phone. Randy and I shared the same lock-screen password.

Scrolling up, all I noticed were their judgments against me.

Randy would occasionally chime in, saying, "I got it. I'll ask her to try a different haircut tomorrow."

Suddenly, all of his odd requests made sense.

"Honey, how about I go to the salon with you tomorrow?"

I hesitated as I stroked my long hair, which had grown for two years. "I don't want to cut it."

But he kept pestering me. If I didn't say yes, he wouldn't stop.

Finally, I gave in with tears pooling in the corners of my eyes and cheeks flushed.

When I saw him seriously discussing with the hairstylist about what cut would suit me, I thought it was a sweet gesture.

Little did I know, all he wanted was for me to look more like her.

I was a stand-in for three years, and I knew nothing about it.

In the dark, the brightness from the phone screen lit up my pale face like a ghost.

The next morning, I resumed my role as the perfect girlfriend, fixing his tie and sending him off with a grin.

Randy gently patted my head and placed a soft kiss on my lips. His mouth curled into a playful grin. "A goodbye kiss for you. Wait for me to come home."

I nodded obediently.

I watched his car drive away down the street through the window. Then I turned away, wiped off my subtle natural makeup look, and replaced it with a sultry smoky eye.

In the mirror, I saw a woman with sharp, seductive eyes and a wicked little smirk.

This was the real me.

I strolled into the backroom of Twilight Bar with familiarity.

"The manager's eyes brightened up as soon as he noticed me.

"Debra! You've finally arrived. Quickly get on stage. You've been gone so long, and the crowd has been waiting just for you!"

I nodded and walked to the stage, meeting the crowd's wild, expectant eyes as I took my place behind the drum kit.

"Debby! Debby!"

"I come here every night hoping to see you! I love you, Debby!"

"Debby, you're so hot!"

The moment I gripped the drumsticks, my whole demeanor changed.

I immersed myself in the rhythm, and each movement I take are confident and magnetic. The beat reverberated throughout the bar, electrifying the crowd.

The shouting continued, and I was completely lost in the music.

After powering through five songs without pause, I stepped offstage under reluctant stares.

As I bowed, I noticed a familiar person on the second-floor balcony.

He was looking directly at me.

It was Randy.

I quickly lowered my head in panic.

He averted his gaze as if nothing had happened, lazily fiddling with the glass in his hand, obviously bored.

I was stunned that he couldn't identify me after three years of sleeping in the same bed.

A quiet ache spread through my chest, hollowing me out, and my whole body screamed with pain.

"Debra?" The manager's voice snapped me out of it.

"Yeah?" I turned to him.

"You saw how it was tonight," he said. "Your fans were going crazy waiting for you. I was just wondering if you could maybe come in a few more times a week. I can..."

"Sure," I cut him off and thought for a second before continuing, "I can come four times a week. You can figure out the schedule."

"Perfect! Great!" He practically skipped away to make arrangements.

As I was heading out, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Randy. "Honey, I saw someone today who looked just like you. But she's not as pretty as you. I miss you so much."

My heart trembled. I was ready to respond when I heard voices behind me.

"Randy, I heard Audrey's coming back."

Randy let out a quiet hum and said nothing more.

His friend must've taken the hint because the conversation stopped there.

After three years with him, I knew Randy better than he knew himself. The way his fingertips turned white told me he was far from calm.

Then came a startled exclamation, "Wait, is it true Audrey has a boyfriend now?"

In an instant, Randy's expression became stormy. He took the phone from his friend's hands, his eyes black and keen with rage.

"He grabbed his coat and rushed out of the bar without saying anything. "

I couldn't dodge in time and was knocked to the ground by him.

"Sorry."

He took out his wallet, pulled a stack of cash, and handed it to me. "I am in a rush and can't take you to the hospital. Take this for your medical bills."

It all happened so fast.

He didn't even spare me a second glance.

The wound on my arm burned, a searing pain that felt like punishment for overstepping.

My eyes stung as tears pooled before they rolled down my face.

That night, Randy never returned home.

My calls and texts went unanswered.

Thus, I went to his friend and asked where he was, and the answer I got was, "Sorry, Debra, I've no idea where he went."

He sounded apologetic, but there was no evidence of it on his face.

After saying goodbye, I turned back and caught him talking casually with a coworker.

"Did you see that woman just now? She looks a lot like my friend's first love, but no matter how much she resembles her, she is not. The moment my friend saw his first love post a photo with a guy, he panicked and booked a flight to France to pursue her."

I don't even know how I made it back home. My face was pale as paper. At some point, my knee injury was torn open again and it was bleeding.

But I didn't care. I kept clutching my phone, calling Randy again and again, desperate for him to pick up.

He didn't answer.

My wrist gave out, and the phone fell from my grasp and landed on the carpet.

The screen flashed and then went dark.

Tears rolled down my face and soaked into the carpet beneath me, leaving spots all over.

In the darkness, my throat tightened, and I let out a choking sob.

***

Randy's friends were waiting to see me break down and spiral into some hysterical mess over him.

However, as they continued to wait, nothing happened.

I had just finished another show when my assistant ran to me, phone in hand.

"Debra, your phone's been buzzing nonstop. I thought it might be important, so I brought it over."

I thanked her and took it, only to find that they were all group chat messages.

That night, I had secretly made a new account and used Randy's phone to add myself to their group.

"Randy, there's something wrong with Debra these days. I haven't seen her at all."

"Yeah, I was waiting for her to come cry and ask about you. I love seeing her look all pitiful."

It took a bit before Randy responded, "Do not worry about her. Let her cool off. She's far too clingy. This is a perfect opportunity for me to spend time with Audrey. She just got over a breakup, and I need to be there for her."

"You got a point. Audrey's far more important. We'll keep an eye on Debra for you. Go win your beauty back, and by then, you won't need that stand-in anymore."

"Randy's just playing it smart by keeping the backup in case the main plan falls through."

Randy didn't respond again and went offline.

I let out a bitter chuckle as pain spread quietly from my chest, suffocating me.

To stop myself from thinking about him, I asked the manager to increase my shows to six per week.

Music numbed the pain and brought memories.

I first met Randy at the Twilight Bar. Back then, I was only a small singer, and few people came to hear me sing.

I had few fans, but I did draw the wrong type of attention.

A man offered to be my sugar daddy. When I declined, he became enraged and created a scene, saying in front of everyone that I was nothing more than public property, free to ride.

The manager was too focused on calming the crowd to care about me, let alone defend me.

I was frozen in place, embarrassed and helpless.

Then Randy stepped in. He defended me and took me away from the chaos.

"Don't be afraid. I believe you," he said, handing me a tissue. His eyes crinkled, kind and bright.

His few words gave me incredible strength.

I couldn't help but fall for him, who appeared in my world as a savior.

Back then, I was a mess, and I longed for someone to save me and lift me up.

But I forgot that the person didn't need to be Randy.

By the third month of Randy's disappearance, I was finally over him.

If two years of living apart were enough to justify a divorce, then surely two months of no contact counted as a breakup.

I started packing up his things.

There were a lot of couple items in the house.

Toothbrushes, glasses, towels, and small figurines were arranged in pairs.

I used to tell him over and again, "See, this is you, and the tiny girl beside you is me. We are meant to be together."

Randy would smile sweetly. "Yeah, we're made for each other."

I'd put my arms around his neck, grinning like a fool and quietly whispering in my heart, "We'll be together forever."

But one day, I discovered that the figurines had been moved.

The pair that once stood so close, shoulder to shoulder, were now turned back-to-back, standing far apart.

I stared at them for a moment before packing them up together.

There was too much of his stuff to pack all at once, and lately, I'd been getting home really late, so I left it for now.

Until one day, the group chat blew up.

"Randy, you're finally returning? I really missed you!"

"That's not even the main point. I heard Audrey's coming back with him. Is that true?"

"No way! That means Randy finally got his dream girl! Congrats on ditching Debra and winning the real deal!"

Numerous congratulatory texts followed.

Then Randy sent a photo in the group chat. It was of him and Audrey.

"Yeah, we're coming back."

They looked like a perfect match, standing side by side.

Just then, I heard a voice urging me to go on stage, so I put down my phone and went on stage.

By the time I picked it up again, it was already late at night.

While I'd been on stage, Randy had sent more messages to the group.

"Is Debra still looking for me?"

"No. As a matter of fact, when I randomly went on her Instagram the other day, I realized she blocked me!"

"I just checked, and she blocked me too. What the hell? Randy, you should check yours. What if she blocked you too?"

"No way she'd block Randy. She's too in love with him to let him go. Anyway, now that Audrey has returned, I think it's time for Randy to officially end his relationship with Debra."

I had honestly forgotten to block him.

"Let's wait a bit. I'm scared she'll cry again," Randy suggested.

After that, all the guys went quiet as no one knew what to say.

I merely treated it like a joke and quickly forgot about it.

There was a group dinner tonight, and I couldn't find an excuse to get out of it. Thus, I sat in a corner and quietly enjoyed my drink.

Without realizing it, I drank too much.

Somehow, I stumbled to the front, grabbed a mic, and wailed into it.

Everyone was grasping their heads as if their brains were going to burst from the noise.

"The alcohol is quite strong tonight. Did Debra drink a lot?"

Suddenly, a man stood and offered, "I'll take her home."

The manager sighed and nodded.

On the way back, I didn't behave myself.

I clung to him like a puppy, sniffing and nuzzling him. "You smell so good!"

He tried to pull me off, his voice rough. "Debra, stop squirming."

I squinted at his face and pointed to his ear. "Why are your ears so red? Let me pinch it."

Then, I threw myself at him again.

If I had been sober, I'd have wondered how a man this tall and broad could be knocked over so easily.

I acted even worse in the elevator. I was basically hanging on him, and my shirt collar slipped off without me even noticing.

His eyes accidentally caught a glimpse of something, and he jerked his head away, flustered.

Even his back turned red.

"I started slipping and scrambled to hold onto his shirt, whining, "Hold me up! I'm slipping!"

He had no choice but to support me under my thighs with one hand and use the other to stop my arms from flailing.

At this moment, the elevator door opened.

Randy was standing in front of my apartment door.

The moment he saw me tangled up with another man, his eyes went red, and he completely lost it.

"Debra! Get down from there right now!"