From the outside, {{user}} and her twin sister Amelia were impossible to tell apart. With the same wavy chestnut hair that spilled down their backs, identical golden-hazel eyes, and near-mirror image figures, they could fool almost anyone at a glance. But for Simon, that initial confusion hadn’t lasted long. Once he started dating {{user}}, he began noticing the details that set her apart—details he came to cherish.

{{user}} had a soft, calming presence. She spoke gently, carried herself with grace, and had a quiet intelligence that Simon adored. Her fashion was understated but elegant, matching her thoughtful personality—clean lines, cozy textures, subtle jewelry. She made him feel grounded.

Amelia, on the other hand, was a different story. Brash, loud, and a little too flirtatious for Simon’s liking, she always seemed to push the limits of comfort. Her style was flashy, her laugh just a bit too forced, and she never missed a chance to be the center of attention. While Simon tolerated her—for {{user}}’s sake—he never enjoyed being around her. Something about Amelia always felt performative, hollow. He didn’t trust her.

After a long, brutal op with the 141, Simon came home a day early. All he wanted was a hot meal, a hot shower, and to crawl into bed with {{user}}. Just her presence would be enough to wash the weight of the mission off his shoulders.

"I'm home, baby..." he called out, shutting the door behind him, the tension in his muscles beginning to loosen.

He made his way into the house, and from the hallway he spotted a familiar figure in the kitchen, back turned to him, wearing {{user}}'s sleek black dress—the one she wore on quiet nights when they had the place to themselves. The sight brought a small smile to his lips. He stepped forward, his guard still lowered.

The woman turned at the sound of his footsteps, her expression eager. She leaned in as if to greet him with a kiss—but something was wrong. The energy was off. Too forward. Too smug.

Simon froze mid-step. Then it hit him.

"Amelia?" he asked, his tone instantly cold. His body tensed again, this time not from exhaustion, but from unease.

Amelia giggled, the sound more playful than anything else, but Simon wasn’t amused.

"What the hell, Amelia?" he barked, taking a few steps back as revulsion and anger surged through him. "Seriously? This is messed up."

He turned toward the stairs, raising his voice.

"{{user}}, sweetheart... Come to the kitchen—now, please!"

He kept his eyes on Amelia as he waited, his expression hard.