The Villa

When a kiss sparks a chilling confession, a traveler is pulled into a love story shadowed by lies — and must decide how much truth she can face

I kicked off my sandals and let out a long breath. The soft rush of the ocean hummed in the background as I opened the front door of the villa.

He glanced up at me. “Hi, love.” 

I noted with dissatisfaction that he was still hunched over his computer, working. 

“Food’s here if you’re hungry,” I said.  

He muttered a thanks before ducking down again into his virtual world. 

Hanging my bag on the back of a chair, I set the plastic bag of styrofoam containers down on the table. Lifting out my dinner, my mouth watered as the aromatics of lemongrass and tomato filled the air. But even this didn’t stir Rory from whatever was consuming him. CSS bug? Awful news? Who knew.

My abs and arms were still sore from a grueling session with my Russian pole dance teacher. The warm-up alone felt like boot camp. Not to mention the hundred pirouettes she’d made us do until they were to her satisfaction. 

I tucked into the tom-yum fried rice from the market, savoring the complex flavor profile. But each passing, silent moment irritated me. 

I looked over at Rory. He told me once he had a twin, laughing about how teachers used to mix them up as kids. Sometimes I felt duped, too, living with a sweet, attentive version of him in some moments, and a dismissive, unreachable one in others. 

Finally, I cleared my throat. “Love, are you sure you’re not hungry? Your food’s going to get cold.” 

He exhaled audibly. “I really need to finish this.” 

Normally, I wouldn’t press. But I had hauled this food all the way home from the market — not an easy task on a tiny motorbike. And if I didn’t say anything now, it would continue nagging at me. 

I got up from the sofa and went over to the table. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Looking up, he took off his glasses and squinted his blue eyes. “I’m fine,” he said with a tight smile. 

“I know. I mean you always say that,” I started. “But are you fine, really? You’ve been on your laptop all day…I —”

His smile fell. “I’m really fine. But when you ask all the time it makes me feel like something is wrong.” 

I shook my head and retreated to the couch. Something had definitely been going on the last few days. But in his typical fashion, he refused to talk about it. And I desperately wanted him to let me into his world — a place he kept carefully guarded — most of the time.

***

I thought back to the night that was the real start of our relationship. 

We got back from the bar to a mostly empty hostel. It was a Friday night, after all. We lay in the hammocks, chit-chatting and snuggling close. There was no AC, so the hot, sticky air surrounded us as he leaned in for a kiss. 

I took a deep breath and kissed him back. It was nice, but there weren't exactly sparks. As we were lying there in the hot hammock, stewing in the aftermath of our mediocre kiss, he made a confession. Like I was a priest and he needed to unburden himself. 

“I've never told anyone this, but in my country's war, there was this moment in combat. I was in a crumbling building, and an older man and I had a face-off. It was me or him.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Did you have a gun?”

He shook his head. “No, I killed him with my bare hands.”

I didn’t know what to say. A cocktail of emotions came over me — I was terrified, of course. Lying intimately with someone capable of killing a man. But it also made me feel closer to him. Chosen, like he had decided I was the one he wanted to share something so raw and personal with. We started kissing again, and it felt like the spark had entered the room. 

***

The chair squeaked as Rory finally got up from the table and headed to the bathroom. It hit me that he had never brought up that war story again. In this whole year of dating, he’d never told any stories from the war. I wondered if that was why he buried himself in his work so often. 

Later, when we were lying in bed about to go to sleep, something pushed me to ask. “Remember that story you told me in Oaxaca? When you were in the war?” 

He turned his head and looked at me, confused. 

“Did that actually happen? Because it’s been a year and you’ve never mentioned it again.” 

He sat up in bed. “What story? I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

I tried to jog his memory, mentioning the man and the life-or-death scenario. He just shook his head, bewildered. It was as if the memory — both the real-life one and him telling me — had been wiped from his hard drive. 

***

The next day started like so many others in Koh Phangan. Rory brought me coffee in bed, and we cuddled before starting the day. After getting dressed, he drove us down the beach road to the coffee shop where we usually worked. 

“Psst,” my friend Hanna said into my ear at the cafe. I turned to her and smiled. “I saw Rory out at the market down the road last night. He didn't even wave back!”

I knit my eyebrows together. “Really? What time? He was with me at home until we went to bed.” 

Her eyes squinted. “I swear it was him. He was with an older man who was dressed super fancy. Handkerchief in his suit and all.”

“Hmm,” I considered. “Maybe his twin brother is on the island? But I would think he'd have told me.” 

She glanced up and closed her mouth abruptly. “Hey, Hanna,” he said, sauntering back to the desk. “Working hard?”

She smiled uneasily. “I gotta go, actually. Bye, babe,” she said, pecking me on the cheek. 

I debated whether to confront him now or when we were alone. Fuck it, I thought. “Rory, I know this sounds ridiculous, but is your twin brother on the island?”

He laughed for a beat. “No, not that I know of.” 

“That's so weird, because —”

“Look, sorry, I have a meeting,” he said, cutting me off. He pressed his AirPods into his ears and clicked open Google Meet. 

How convenient, I thought, turning my attention back to my work. I stared at the words for an article on ‘The Best Underwater Speakers of 2022,’ but couldn’t focus. Was he lying again? Maybe his twin had come to surprise him? If it had been Rory, was it possible he'd snuck out after I went to bed? I was a light sleeper, so that seemed doubtful. 

Later, I eavesdropped as Rory called his brother. They spoke in their mother tongue, so I couldn't understand a word he said. But from his laid-back posture and easy laughter, it seemed like a normal conversation. 

“Yeah,” he said, putting down the phone and shaking his head. “He's still at home, nowhere near Thailand.”

“Okay,” I said. “But what about what Hanna saw?”

He shrugged. “She smokes a lot of weed, doesn't she? She probably just thought it was me.”

I nodded, accepting his explanation for now. A one-time mix-up was one thing. But this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.