Ashley didn't recognize herself without makeup.
Not because she looked worse—she didn't—but because she looked unfinished.
She stood in front of the bathroom mirror with the lights dimmed low, the city glowing faintly through the tall window behind her. The red hair was gone. Not dyed back, not hidden—just peeled away.
Brown now. Natural. Boring.
Real.
She pressed her palms against the counter and exhaled slowly.
This was always the worst part.
Not putting Fiona on.
Taking her off.
The lashes came first. Then the contour. Then the lip color. Every small removal peeled away something she'd carefully constructed. Fiona was deliberate—sharp, composed, visible.
Ashley wasn't.
Ashley had grown up being overlooked in rooms where people only remembered one Han daughter.
She wiped the last trace of color from her mouth and stared at the woman in the mirror.
Her phone vibrated.
She didn't need to look to know who it was.
Alice.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she walked back into her bedroom, pulling on an oversized sweater and soft pants—things Fiona would never be caught dead in. Fiona wore structure. Fiona wore heels. Fiona wore purpose.
Ashley wore comfort.
She was halfway through tying her hair back when the doorbell rang.
Once.
Then again.
Then again.
Ashley closed her eyes.
Of course.
She walked to the door slowly, deliberately, as if moving too fast would fracture something fragile inside her.
She opened it.
Alice stood there.
Not dressed for an event. Not dressed for an appearance. Just… Alice. Hair loose. Jacket thrown on hastily. No entourage. No polite smile.
Just concern.
Then confusion.
Then realization.
Her eyes swept over Ashley's bare face. Her brown hair. Her clothes.
She blinked.
"Ashley?" Alice said quietly.
Ashley leaned against the doorframe.
"Hi," she said.
Alice stared.
Then her eyes hardened.
"You've been lying to me."
Ashley winced. "Hello to you too."
Alice stepped inside without waiting for permission.
She always did that.
She turned slowly, looking around the apartment—the minimalist design, the skyline view, the absence of family touches.
Then she turned back.
"So this is Fiona," Alice said.
Ashley closed the door.
"This is me."
Alice laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. "You dye your hair. You change your name. You vanish for months. And you expect me to just—what—accept that?"
"I didn't ask you to accept it," Ashley said.
"I asked you to stop lying."
Ashley folded her arms.
"I never lied to you."
Alice stared. "You looked me in the eye and said Fiona was a business contact."
"That was true."
Alice opened her mouth—
"And I never said she wasn't me."
Silence fell between them.
Not hostile.
Heavy.
Alice exhaled, rubbing her temples. "Why?"
Ashley looked away.
The city stretched out beyond the glass—beautiful, indifferent.
"Because I was tired of being you's sister," she said quietly.
Alice stiffened.
Ashley continued.
"I was tired of being introduced after you. Compared to you. Ranked below you. Ignored because you already filled the quota of 'brilliant Han daughter.'"
"That's not—"
"It is," Ashley snapped.
Alice froze.
Ashley swallowed.
"I love you," she said. "But you have no idea what it's like to be the one people forget."
Alice's voice softened. "Ashley—"
"No," she said. "Don't soften. I didn't ask for comfort. I asked for space."
Alice stepped closer.
"So you built a fake life?"
Ashley laughed bitterly. "No. I built a real one. One where no one knew me as your shadow."
Alice studied her.
"You're angry at me."
"I'm angry at the system that only allows one person to shine."
Silence again.
Then Alice said, "Why didn't you tell me?"
Ashley looked at her.
"Because you would've tried to fix it."
Alice's mouth opened.
"And I didn't want to be fixed," Ashley said. "I wanted to be seen."
Alice's eyes glistened.
"You think I don't see you?"
Ashley's voice dropped. "You see me as safe."
Alice frowned.
"And safe is invisible."
Alice swallowed.
Ashley sighed.
"I didn't create Fiona to deceive you," she said. "I created her so I could exist without being filtered through you."
Alice looked down.
"I didn't know," she said.
Ashley smiled sadly.
"That's kind of the point."
They stood there, two sisters separated by love, history, and the damage of different expectations.
Finally, Alice asked, "What are you doing now?"
Ashley hesitated.
"Building something."
Alice studied her. "What kind of something?"
"The kind that doesn't ask permission."
Alice nodded slowly.
"Are you in danger?"
Ashley smiled faintly. "Probably."
Alice laughed weakly. "That tracks."
They stood in silence again.
Then Alice stepped forward and hugged her.
Ashley froze.
Then exhaled.
Then returned it.
"I don't want to lose you," Alice said.
"You won't," Ashley replied.
"Then stop disappearing."
Ashley pulled back slightly.
"I can't promise that."
Alice sighed. "Figures."
Ashley smiled.
"You're still annoying."
"And you're still dramatic."
They both huffed.
But the tension hadn't vanished.
Only shifted.
When Alice left, Ashley locked the door behind her and leaned against it.
Her heart was racing.
She hadn't expected to feel lighter.
She walked back to the mirror.
No Fiona.
Just Ashley.
She touched her face.
Her real face.
Her phone buzzed.
A new message.
From an unknown number.
I think I know who you really are.
Her stomach tightened.
She didn't reply.
Not yet.
She looked at her reflection.
"I didn't choose invisibility," she whispered.
"I chose survival."
And now—
She would choose more.