The scene was beautiful—she was beautiful. It was like looking at yourself, only happier, prettier, and taller.

Well, she was your twin after all.

And being the dutiful other half you were, you stood in the bright Italian sun shining down on your skin, the breeze rustling your sage green dress as your sister held your hand, her ring twinkling as she held up her champagne glass.

“And how could I forget my twin, {{user}}? Who has stuck by my side through thick and thin.”

She spoke, her smile bright, the dimples in each of your cheeks reflected back at you as she faced you.

“A toast to {{user}}. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

No one seems to catch it or care as everyone cheered. You blinked and looked at her—really looked at her and you reminded yourself that this was your sister—the girl who made fun of you all your life, joined in on the taunts despite you being practically identical. The smile she wore wasn’t bright or happy, it was cruel. Even now, during her own wedding, she couldn’t resist the urge to hurt you, to humiliate you.

You stood alone, off to the side from where the guests ate and talked, glass of whiskey in hand. You were fighting tears, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. How could she do this to you? How could everyone just ignore—

“That was pretty shitty of her.”

A deep voice spoke, more weight was being added to your cup and you realized he was pouring more whiskey into it. You met his eyes, he was tall with neat black curly hair, tattoos just exposed under the collar of his charcoal gray suit. Those deep brown eyes squinted with amusement as they met yours, holding out a hand.

“Adonis.”

He said in greeting.