Page 13 of You Will Never Be Me

“It’ll take a second. I just need you to pretend that you’re waking up, okay? You’ll get a star for this.”

Noemie puts her iPad aside and slides down from the sofa, and Aspen says, “Good girl.” Then her voice sharpens. “Elea, come on.”

With a frustrated groan, Elea joins her sister. I watch, mouth agape, as they walk down the hallway and go into their bedroom.

“I am NOT putting on my PJs,” Elea snaps once she’s inside. “It’s four in the afternoon. That would be stupid.”

“Don’t say ‘stupid,’ ” Aspen says. “And fine, you don’t need to change into your PJs. But pull the duvet up to your chin so we can’t see your clothes.”

Oh my god. What the fuck am I seeing?

The girls climb into their twin beds, and Aspen turns off the lights. She walks out of their room, then walks in again, the phone camera still in front of her. She turns on the lights and calls out, “Rise and shine, my beautiful babies!”

Noemie opens her eyes and smiles sweetly at the camera. “Morning, Mommy.” Elea opens her eyes and rolls them.

“Elea!” Aspen snaps. “You ruined the shot. Now we’re going to have to do it again.”

I gasp so hard that it startles Luca, who’s dozed off while still latched to my nipple. I shush him and continue watching as Aspen turns off the bedroom lights again before going through the same routine. “Rise and shine, my beautiful babies!” she trills.

This time, Elea refrains from rolling her eyes, though she refuses to give the camera a smile. Aspen’s prepared for it; the camera merely glances over Elea before settling on Noemie, who is smiling obediently and reciting her line: “Morning, Mommy.”

After a beat, Elea says, “Are we done yet?”

Aspen sighs audibly. “Yes. Thank you for humoring me.”

The girls jump out of their beds and run back to the living room. Aspen follows them there, where baby Sabine is in her playpen. She picks Sabine up, carries her to the nursery, and places her in the cot. She turns off the lights. Turns them back on. “Rise and shine, my darling!”

I hit Pause. Holy shit. What the hell did I just…

I—

It’s all fake. All of it.

I mean, okay, as an influencer myself, I’ve long known, of course, that a lot of what we post online isn’t necessarily true. We love to crow about being “authentic,” but our authenticity comesin a highly edited, extremely polished package. That’s okay. Everybody knows we do that, and they go along with it anyway. Kind of a nudge-nudge, wink-wink situation. But this? There isn’t even a shred of truth in her morning routine videos. They weren’t even shot in the morning! I look down at Luca. I put the iPad aside, unlatch my nipple from his mouth, pick him up gently so as not to wake him, and carry him into his nursery. I tuck him inside his cot and close the door, then hurry to the bathroom, where I slap on some foundation and swipe lipstick on my lips and cheeks. Then I rumple up my hair, put on my cutest pajama top, and get into bed with my phone. I start recording, close my eyes, and then open them with a yawn and a smile. “Morning!” I say to the camera. “Come get ready for the day withme.”

7

MEREDITH

Here is where I startsounding like a paid ad for Apple. That iPad changed my life. There, I said it. But it’s not because it’s an iPad. I promise you if it had been an Android or a Huawei it would’ve changed my life as well. Or maybe not? Sorry, but I am a die-hard Apple stan.

Over the next few days, I pore over all of Aspen’s TikTok and Instagram Reels before locating the uncut versions in her cloud storage. I figure out everything. Literally everything.

Take this one, for example: a Reel of her putting together the most beautiful lunch boxes for the twins. She even shows herself making the bread from scratch—low-carb for Noemie, of course. The final version has relaxing music as its audio, but in the original version, I can hear all of them talking.

Noemie:“Mommy, I can’t find my PJs. The ones with the unicorn cupcake on it.”

Aspen:“Oh. I think—uh, hang on, sweetie. It’s in the dryer, I think.”

Noemie:“Can you get it please, Mommy? I really want to wear those ones tonight.”

Aspen:“Ask Daddy to get them. I’m putting together your lunch for tomorrow.”

Here, I have to pause, because Aspen always captions her lunch box posts with something along the lines of “Threw these together in the morning while the kiddos were having breakfast!” But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that these are, of course, prepped well in advance.

Elea:“Are you making that low-carb bread? Yuck. I donotwant any, Mommy.”

Aspen:“I know, I know. These are for Noemie.”

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